The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 606

Chapter 606: The Coronation (I)

[Meredith].

I barely slept.

When dawn finally crept through the tall palace windows, I was already awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to the faint movement of servants preparing the grand halls below.

A few minutes later, a soft knock came on the door, and Azul’s voice followed. "Your Majesty, may we enter?"

I smiled at the title, even though it still felt unreal. "Yes."

Azul, Kira, Deidra, Cora, and Arya entered, no longer as ordinary maids in my eyes. I had elevated them two nights ago to the rank of my Ladies-in-waiting.

Their faces glowed with pride and excitement. Arya’s eyes were already glassy with tears she was fighting not to shed.

"You will make us cry before the ceremony even begins," I warned lightly.

Deidra laughed softly. "Then we will cry beautifully, Your Majesty."

They moved with purpose.

The gown was already laid out, not overly lavish, but regal in its design. White and silver, structured at the shoulders, flowing at the hem. Power without excess. Authority without noise.

Kira fastened the inner layers. Cora secured the embroidered bodice, while Azul adjusted the fabric’s fall so it framed my height rather than swallowing me.

Meanwhile, Deidra stood behind me, comb in hand, preparing my hair. Today, it would be styled as a half-crown, the length flowing but anchored in place with silver crescent-shaped pins.

Arya knelt briefly to secure the soft leather footwear—ceremonial, and practical enough if I ever needed to move quickly. They knew me too well.

"Turn," Azul instructed gently. I did, then they stepped back as one.

For a moment, none of them spoke. Then Cora whispered, "Stormveil will remember this day."

At the same time, Valmora stirred inside me proudly. "This is what was promised," she said, her voice smooth through our bond. "Not just to you. To us."

I felt the weight of her words and exhaled slowly.

"I have no appetite," I admitted when Azul tried to hand me a small tray of fruit and bread.

I felt like throwing up, and my head was half a mess. I was low-key hoping the coronation would run smoothly without any mishaps.

"That is expected," she said. "Even Queens are allowed nerves."

Valmora’s presence warmed slightly. "Nothing will go wrong," she assured me. "The Moon marked us herself. No force will overturn that."

She was right. The ritual still burned in my memory—the wind, the light, the way the Moon broke through the clouds.

I straightened. "Thank you," I told my ladies quietly. "For standing with me." 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

They bowed deeply this time. "Always, Your Majesty."

Just then, a palace attendant knocked once. "It is almost time, your majesty."

My heart skipped a beat. Then, Azul opened the doors, and I stepped out. And directly across the corridor, another door opened at the exact same moment. Draven emerged.

He wore black and silver—tailored, powerful, precise. The ceremonial mantle rested across his shoulders like it belonged there by birthright.

Behind him stood Randall, Dennis, Jeffery, and Oscar. They fell silent when they saw me.

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Draven’s hand was firm around mine as we stepped forward together.

The coronation hall stretched wide before us—high ceilings carved with ancient wolves, silver torches blazing along the walls, banners of Stormveil hanging in solemn dignity.

Every noble house, every Alpha of the territories, every influential family was present. And they were all watching.

A ripple of murmurs spread after we entered. I kept my chin steady as I looked at the elders who had questioned my worth, the same men who had demanded proof of my wolf. Their faces were tight, restrained, and carefully composed.

As Draven and I walked past them, they bowed.

The absence of Reginald Fellowes and his daughter went unnoticed. It seemed like a quiet testament to their downfall.

Meanwhile, former King Alderic sat among the dignitaries, thinner than I remembered, his once-commanding aura dimmed by illness.

Draven and I finally reached the elevated platform where the sacred altar stood. Silver bowls of holy water. Ancient script etched into stone. The crowns resting on velvet cushions.

Then the female priest stepped forward, her robes shimmering faintly under the torchlight. "Your Majesties," she said gently, though we were not yet crowned.

Draven and I released each other’s hands and knelt before the altar. The marble beneath my knees was cold, grounding.

For a fleeting second, I thought about the years I had endured being called cursed, being mocked for being wolfless, and standing alone while whispers followed me. I thought of every insult swallowed, and of every tear shed in silence.

And now, here I was.

Just then, the priest gestured for Draven to speak first, and His deep, unwavering voice filled the hall.