The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 73

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 73**

**Aysel’s POV**

A soft murmur rippled through the opulent hall of Moonvale Citadel, a mixture of awe and trepidation hanging in the air like a heavy fog. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken words, as if the very stones of the citadel were holding their breath under the piercing gaze of the Shadowbane Alpha.

Magnus stood beside me, a force of nature barely restrained. Each movement he made was charged with a potent energy—when he filled my glass with wine, when his fingers brushed delicately against my wrist, and when he adjusted the cloak draped around my shoulders, it felt as though he was claiming me in a way that transcended mere words. His presence alone conveyed a powerful message to the entire court: the cast-off daughter of Moonvale was now under his formidable protection.

I could sense the shift in the atmosphere, a palpable mingling of shock and reluctant submission.

Every wolf who had once looked down on me, either with pity or disdain, now bowed their heads in deference.

Initially, a few of the younger Alphas exchanged nervous laughter, mistaking this moment for a jest or an exaggerated gesture of flattery. Others murmured among themselves, speculating about the intricate web of politics and alliances. But the way Magnus regarded me, with eyes that saw me as his equal, his chosen, silenced even the most arrogant among them. He was the storm made flesh, and I was the eye of that tempest, calm amidst the chaos.

Once, they had mocked me.

Aysel Vale—the daughter who had been betrayed by her own kin, supplanted by her sister in the sacred mating vows. I had been nothing more than a ghost haunting my own pack. But now, as Magnus poured my wine before the gathered nobles and affectionately called me his little wolf, the very air seemed to vibrate with a newfound power. I could see the dawning realization on their faces: I would never again be seen as small or insignificant.

The whispers reached me, soft and rustling like the sound of dead leaves skittering across the ground.

Even Damon Blackwood, the Alpha who once vowed to grant me eternity, had turned pale, his knuckles whitening around the cup he held. He could not bring himself to meet my gaze. Once, he had called me his Luna; now, he resembled prey ensnared by a predator far beyond his grasp. In our world, nothing stung more than losing what you once possessed to someone more powerful.

I allowed him to look. I let him choke on the bitter taste of his regret.

Outside, the fireworks erupted with vibrant colors, spilling their brilliance across the marble floor of the hall. Magnus had orchestrated this spectacle for me—each explosion spelling my name in the night sky. I caught my reflection in the glass he held, my golden eyes glowing with intensity beneath the shimmering light. Those very eyes, once deemed “tainted,” now made kings quiver with unease.

At the head of the long table, my father sat rigid and pale, his jaw clenched so tightly that I could almost hear the grinding of his teeth. He felt it too—the danger coiling in the air like a serpent ready to strike. To witness the Shadowbane Alpha seated beside his long-forgotten daughter was akin to watching a wolf god dine among mere mortals.

Then, Magnus broke the silence, his voice low yet deceptively smooth. “I heard that the Moonvale Pack gathered to celebrate the birthday of its true-born daughter,” he said, his words rolling forth like thunder wrapped in silk. “And yet… I see no mother, no brother in attendance. Pray tell, Alpha Remus, has the Vale bloodline lost its appreciation for kinship?”

The hall fell into a deathly hush.

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