The Abandoned Luna's Journey to Power Chapter 278: The Wedding Continues

Cindy's POV:

The entire hall fell dead silent.

No one dared to chime in.

Seriously, this was the Moonridge Martial Arts Academy—the strongest fighters on the entire continent. Who in their right mind tried to reason with that pack of lunatics?

King Ryken sat in the seat of honor, watched the whole scene, and instead of getting angry, he threw his head back and laughed.

"Good! Well said!"

King Ryken stood and waved Dean Dross over. "Old friend, what are you waiting for? Reginald's right. You're Prince Adam's uncle, and you're Cindy's teacher. This seat of honor has a place for you. Come—sit beside me!"

The attendants rushed to carry in an equally ornate chair and set it to King Ryken's left.

Dean Dross didn't pretend to be modest. He strode up and dropped into the seat like he owned it, then shot the minister of ceremony a deliberately provocative look.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Dean Dross said with a grin. "Then I won't stand on ceremony."

Adam watched it all with a smug little curve at his mouth.

I was so moved I couldn't find a single word.

Did Adam understand the ache I carried? He was willing to risk offending the King just to ensure I had an elder representing my side of the family during the ceremony.

He held my hand, led me before the three elders, and dropped to his knees with solemn care.

"I, Prince Adam, with my bride Cindy Spencer, pay respects to my father, my mother, and our mentor!"

That bow wasn't only gratitude for those who raised us—it was also a bow to the courage it took to break stale rules and protect what mattered.

I knelt beside him, looking up at those satisfied, softened smiles, warmth surging through my chest.

These were my people.

They might be unreasonable at times, even overbearing, but they were fiercely protective and truly loved me.

Prince Adam's POV:

After the bows, the real ceremony began.

By then, the last smear of sunset had faded, and a massive full moon rose slowly into place. Silver moonlight poured through the crystal skylight in the dome like a spotlight, landing with perfect precision on the altar.

Cindy and I stood beneath that moonlight.

The priest held an ancient parchment scroll and began to recite the Moon Goddess's Blessing.

The old, obscure wolf tongue echoed through the vast hall, carrying a solemn power that felt ancient and inevitable.

"Now, the groom will lift the bride's breath-veil."

I drew a deep breath, turned, and faced the figure wrapped in a silver veil.

My hand trembled slightly as my fingertips brushed the cool, silky fabric.

Cindy, I whispered in my mind, tasting her name like a vow.

The veil lifted, slowly.

When her breathtaking face was fully revealed in the moonlight, a synchronized breath drew in all around us.

She was too beautiful.

A deep red battle robe set off her snow-white skin, and the silver moon-mark on her forehead shone under the moonlight.

Her eyes—those cool silver-gray eyes—held tears now, fixed on me with a depth that made my throat tighten.

It was the kind of gaze that made a man willing to live for her ... and die for her.

"I, Prince Adam Ryken..."

I dropped to one knee, took her left hand, and pressed my forehead to the back of it.

It was the highest pledge of loyalty among werewolves—an Alpha offering absolute devotion to his Luna.

"Under the witness of the Moon Goddess and all wolves, I swear: I offer my loyalty and my fangs to my Luna. My blade will swing for you. My blood will spill for you. Whether in poverty or wealth, in health or sickness, even in life or death—I will guard you always, until my soul returns to the Moon Goddess's embrace."

Cindy looked at me. Tears slipped down her cheeks, but her voice was steady as steel.

"I, Cindy Spencer..."

She answered, "I accept your loyalty. And I offer my Alpha my trust—and my back. Your honor is my honor. Your battlefield is my battlefield. We live and die together, and we will never betray each other."

The priest brought forth a silver tray. On it lay two mithril rings carved with intricate runes, and a cup of vivid red liquid.

It was blood wine.

Inside it was a blend of blood from both our fingertips—symbolizing shared life.

We exchanged rings. The cold metal slid onto our fingers and warmed almost instantly, as if it fused with flesh and blood.

Then, we drank the Wolfblood Whiskey together.

The taste was sharp and metallic-sweet as it slid down my throat, and it lit the wolfblood in my body like a match.

"The final step—marking."

The priest's voice rose, higher and more resonant.