Chapter 143- Whispers Beneath the Cheers

Lexy

The days leading to the celebration passed in a blur of movement, strategy, and careful diplomacy. At the surface, everything gleamed with perfection—flags being raised, kitchens preparing dishes infused with traditions from every allied pack, and the sounds of children rehearsing their welcome chants echoed in the courtyards. But beneath that golden veil, I was orchestrating something far more delicate and dangerous.

Each morning, I wore the smile of a Queen, proud and composed, while walking through the busy halls. Delegates from surrounding packs were excited and hoping to observe the final preparations. I let them see what I wanted them to see—unity, prosperity, and strength. CJ remained at my side through most of it, the perfect image of a supportive King. But when we were alone, our conversations were a flurry of names, locations, and silent fears.

"Adrian will not move during the celebration," CJ told me one night while massaging my swollen feet. "He’s not a fool. But he’ll be watching. Waiting for one slip."

"I don’t intend to give him one," I whispered, watching the moonlight pour through the open balcony doors.

We were able to keep Adrian here with the pretense of learning from each other along with everyone else from the conference. We’ve been able to keep his communication down and it hasn’t been easy.

Tarria was finally back and still healing, though her eyes now burned with a clarity that came only from betrayal. She no longer limped from her leg injury, and though the bruises on her body were fading, her spirit had grown sharper, refined by the fire of everything she had endured. When she wasn’t working with the healers to regain full strength, she was teaching her apprentice or she was by my side—observing, listening, preparing.

We used the volunteers' introduction event to subtly mask our deeper strategy. The exchange program had attracted many young warriors and diplomats eager to travel between allied packs. On the surface, it was a cultural bridge. In reality, it was our test—our method of planting loyal eyes and ears across the territories.

“Let them see this as opportunity,” I told Helio during one of our private strategy sessions. My father leaned back against the stone wall, his arms crossed and his aura steady. “But each of these volunteers must be trained in subtlety. They’re more than students—they’re sentinels.”

Dad’s eyes, so much like mine, studied me. “You're using your influence well, daughter. You’ve built something stronger than fear. They believe in you.”

Tarria nodded from the corner. “Belief is why I came back. And why I’ll never leave your side again.”

I offered her a grateful smile. I trusted her more than I ever had. She had walked through hell and returned with the biggest clue.

While the tribe bustled with decorators, musicians, and council preparations, CJ and I carved out hours in the deepest private room of the southern wing. This space had been Helio’s private room long ago—now repurposed and guarded by our sacred warriors from our motherland pack that is only loyal to the Great Phoenix.

We planned everything there.

CJ led the formation of the new warrior order—an elite task force comprised of both male and female fighters, gifted and non-gifted, all bound by oath to the alliance’s survival. Tarria helped review the final candidate list while cross-referencing names with those she remembered hearing during her captivity. We had to be sure no one within the task force was a sympathizer.

I assigned her the mission of coordinating safe routes for our undercover scouts—volunteers within the exchange program tasked with gathering quiet intel. She would be their secret commander. Her father might have tried to use her as a pawn, but she was now the blade that would cut through his plans.

Each night, the palace grew quieter after the last guests were seen off to their quarters. Then the real meetings began.

We met in the secret room. Only those I fully trusted were allowed inside—CJ, Tarria, Helio, and the great warriors handpicked from the packs that had stood by us during Dion’s terror and the enemies before him. Faces from the Western Cliffs, the Northern Ice Ridges, and the Southern Stone Valley filled the space with quiet power.

“We need to agree on what happens if the alliance is tested during the celebration,” I began one night, my voice steady.

“We strike only if provoked,” one of the warriors, Yane from the Ice Ridge, replied. “But we remain coiled. Ready.”

“We cannot lose the narrative,” CJ added. “If Adrian tries anything, we cannot look like aggressors. We are the united front, not the instigators.”

Tarria nodded. “I can place myself in Adrian’s pack by the night of the celebration. If he breathes wrong, we’ll know.”

Helio leaned forward. “Do you really think Adrian would be that reckless in front of so many witnesses?”

I met my father's gaze. “He already kidnapped one of my own and tried to twist her destiny to suit his lie. I no longer underestimate him. He is desperate, and desperation breeds recklessness.”

That silence—the kind that makes your chest tighten—hung thick in the air for a few moments.

Then Yane said, “Let’s prepare for two paths: one where the celebration brings unity. Another where it becomes our battlefield.”

And that’s what we did.

We trained the guards to be celebratory and alert—smiles masking steel. We revised every inch of the event schedule, ensuring no unknown variable had room to worm its way in. I personally reviewed the guest list three times, Tarria beside me. Each name that brought doubt, we red-flagged. Better cautious than compromised.

The day before the celebration, we held a private run-of the plans. The biggest advantage we had is that no one knows who the volunteers are until the introduction of them.

“This,” CJ whispered from behind me, “is your influence at work.”

“Our future,” I said softly. “And our shield.”

I stood proud of how hard everyone has worked for tomorrow.

That night, I walked through the halls alone.

The sky was littered with stars, and the garden lights twinkled softly through the stained glass. I paused near the phoenix fountain, the symbol of rebirth and transformation.

So much was riding on this.

If the celebration succeeded, we’d cement the strongest alliance in generations.

If it failed… war would no longer be theoretical.

Tarria found me there, silent.

“We’re ready,” she said simply, standing beside me. “Let Adrian come. Let them all come.”

I nodded, placing a hand over my belly, where my unborn pup shifted softly.

“We do this not for vengeance,” I murmured, “but for the peace they tried to steal from us.”

And together, we turned toward the rising moon, ready for whatever the celebration would bring tomorrow.