The Devil's Son and His Fated Bride
Chapter 57: Twelve Clans

Chapter 57: Twelve Clans

Rail, Axe, and Org appeared behind them, their presence a silent promise of protection. "We are here to protect you, Luna Reneira." Axe claimed with his thick solid voice.

Ren offered them a bitter smile. The words did little to ease the storm raging inside her, but Kaisun’s presence, his unwavering support, was already working its way into the cracks of her willpower, soothing the sharp edges of her turmoil.

With that, they stepped forward. The moment they entered, all eyes turned to her. A heavy silence settled over the grand tent, thick with scrutiny. Every gaze dissected her, searching for weakness, looking for an excuse to disapprove. She knew those expressions all too well, human royals wore the same ones, their judgmental eyes always prying, as if peeling back the layers of one’s skull would reveal their intentions or their worth.

The tent was a grand spectacle of power and tradition. Its towering canvas walls, woven with intricate golden patterns, enclosed the space like a royal chamber. Heavy drapes of deep crimson and navy hung from the ceiling, absorbing the flickering candlelight and casting an almost ethereal glow over the gathering. The air carried the scent of aged wood and spiced wine, mingling with the quiet tension that thickened with every scrutinizing glance cast her way.

Candlelight flickered, casting long shadows, illuminating faces but couldn’t expose the concealing motives. Identifying which table belonged to which shifter clan was nearly impossible by appearance alone. Twelve tables filled the space, each adorned with its clan’s sigil. The only unifying mark was the stone throne of Thegara, embroidered above each clan’s emblem. Surely, it was a stark reminder of the kingdom’s hierarchy. Just as Rail had explained to her.

The Bird Clans, three in total, shared one sigil: a Griffin. They occupied three tables close to each other.

The Wolf Clans, four in number, displayed the proud sigil of a wolf’s head, spread across four tables.

The lone Bear Clan bore a sigil of a bear’s paw on their banner.

The Deer Clan’s sigil—a pair of interwoven antlers—was breathtakingly intricate, a symbol of grace and quiet strength.

The Cat Clans, two ethnicities, occupied the far-left table, a diverse gathering of felines ranging from the smallest hunters to the great predators. Their leader, a Lion, a Tiger sat at the head. Their sigil, a star enclosed within a circle, gave nothing away about their individual identities.

And finally, her eyes landed on the last tables, the Serpent Clans. Their sigil was unmistakable: a coiled snake climbing the blade of a dagger. A beautifully menacing design. As soon as her gaze met theirs, their round pupils narrowed into slits. A silent, dangerous acknowledgment.

Ren swallowed hard. Her shoulders tensed involuntarily.

’This is madness.’

’I’m here. Just with you.’ Kai’s voice brushed against her mind, steady and reassuring.

She forced her legs forward. The path to the high table felt impossibly long, stretching with each step like an endless battlefield. The weight of the moment pressed down on her, making every motion feel heavier.

"That is her, grandfather! a frail human. I will not kneel before her."

The sneering voice came from the side—Elaika.

Ren didn’t need to turn to see her expression. She could already imagine the arrogant smirk twisting her face, certain that her words would shake Ren. But Elaika was the least of her concerns. A jealous, foolish woman.

People like her spent their lives at the edge of greatness, watching others bask in happiness, while they’re bitter with resentment, burning with failure. No matter how hard she tried to pull Ren down, she would never succeed.

Instead of reacting, Ren turned to Kaisun and gave him a sweet, knowing smile.

Kai’s throat worked as he swallowed, his gaze darkening at the sight of that smile. How could she do that? A simple, innocent curve of her lips, and he was utterly undone. He had fought battles, and faced death, and yet, with her... he was helpless. His hand tightened into a fist, his control slipping, trying hard not to kiss her.

His focus snapped to the front of the tent, where Agara lounged at his designated seat, a smirk playing on his lips. The mere sight of him stoked Kai’s rage. He had insulted him. He had frightened his wife. And Kai would love nothing more than to wipe that smug expression off his face with his fists.

They reached the elevated platform. The three wooden steps leading up to their seats felt like the final threshold, a place where the weight of her new title would truly settle on her shoulders.

Arkilla was suddenly beside her, lifting the trailing hem of her gown, a silent show of support. Ren met her gaze and found warmth there, a quiet reassurance.

They took their seats.

Ren slid her hands beneath the table, attempting to still their slight tremor. But Kaisun wouldn’t have it. He caught her hand, lifted it, and intertwined their fingers before placing them atop the table, visible for all to see. A message or a warning, either way she could sense it.

She wasn’t alone. She never would be. Only then did the others sit.

A moment later, Kaisun’s voice rang through the tent. "Bring the drinks."

Servants moved swiftly, filling goblets with deep amber liquid. Gloria, ever devoted, approached, serving Ren and the King first. She poured with practiced precision, a soft, encouraging smile lingering on her lips as she met Ren’s eyes.

Kaisun rose, goblet in hand. Ren followed suit, the weight of dozens of stares pressing against her skin. This tradition, this ritual, felt like a test. Like a hunt where she was the prey, surrounded by predators waiting for her to falter.

"This feast is held in honor of my bride, the Luna of Wolves, Reneira D’Orient. The legitimate princess of Alvonia." Kaisun’s voice carried through the tent like a decree etched in stone, each syllable imbued with power. "Tonight, we welcome her among us, not as an outsider, but as our own. Let none waver in their allegiance, for she stands beside me, bound by fate and strength alike. Now, raise your cups and drink in her name."

The command was absolute. Undeniable. It rippled through the venue like a force of nature. Eyes flickered between one another, some filled with doubt, others with defiance. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, the unspoken challenge hanging like a dagger above them all.

The Bird Clans reacted first. Their elders stood, their younger kin following in unison. "To our Queen," they proclaimed harmoniously, their voices like a gust of wind against the silent storm.

Their goblets tilted back as they drank, sealing their unspoken vow. But the rest... hesitated. A thick pause, laden with unspoken defiance, hung in the air like the moment before lightning splits the sky. The tension was suffocating, squeezing against the lungs, making even the act of breathing feel like a silent battle.

Kaisun’s gaze, alight with an otherworldly glow, swept across the surroundings, a mute reckoning.

Then, Calisa moved. He stood beside his father, his eyes filled with quiet determination as he raised his goblet and drank. The gesture was regal, unshaken. "I drink twice, as the first Heir of the Hawks, you have my loyalty, my Queen."

Ren’s lips curled slightly at the sight, a silent acknowledgment. The elder beside him glanced at his son with something close to pride. Calisa blushed under her gaze and bowed his head. Seeing Calisa’s respect for her, the Deer and Bear Clans followed, their goblets rising, their commitment spoken without words.

But Kaisun’s jaw was tight and a bit ticked at the suppressed anger. Ren could see the tension there, the way his pulse thrummed at his temple. He had expected the Wolf Clans to be the first. His own people. And yet, they remained still.

A cold dread curled in Ren’s stomach. ’He earned this throne with blood and battle. And now, because of me, they waver.’

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