I Cut Our Secret Mate Bond, Why Are You Begging at My Northern Throne?

The Grand Citadel in the neutral capital was ablaze with light.

Two weeks had passed since the night I walked out into the blizzard, leaving the Red Moon Pack to choke on their own arrogance. Tonight, the annual Inter-Pack Alliance Banquet was underway, bringing together every reigning Alpha, elder, and council member to carve up regional trade borders and assert dominance.

From the quiet gallery outside the ballroom, I could clearly see the center of the hall.

Julian stood beneath the crystal chandeliers, looking every bit the rising star his father had promised he would be. Dressed in a tailored black suit with gold cufflinks, he laughed easily among the southern Beta lords, his hand resting securely on Selena’s waist. Beside them, Luna Evelyn preened like a peacock, flaunting a diamond necklace Selena’s family had gifted her.

"They're calling it the match of the decade," a cold, baritone voice murmured beside me.

Lord Commander Raymond of the Northern Imperial Guard stood at my side, his silver-and-black armor gleaming beneath his heavy woolen cloak.

"Let them celebrate," I replied softly. "False pride always burns highest before it collapses."

Julian raised his glass to toast an elderly Alpha from the western plains. He had completely erased me from his life. In his eyes, I was just a discarded kitchen stray shivering in some ditch, or rotting quietly in a basement.

He had no idea his entire world was about to end.

"Your Highness," Raymond bowed his head, his hand resting on the pommel of his broadsword. "The assembly is seated. The High Chancellor is ready."

"Open the doors," I commanded.

A thunderous horn sounded from the entry hall, cutting through the swell of orchestra music like a war cry.

The massive, iron-wood doors of the ballroom—timbers carved from thousand-year-old pines—groaned on heavy brass hinges and swung wide open.

A crisp, freezing draft swept across the floor, carrying the crisp scent of pine, winter, and fresh snow. The ambient warmth of the ballroom died in an instant.

The chatter in the room evaporated into total, breathless silence.

Twelve Northern Royal Guards marched across the threshold in sharp, synchronized precision. Their heavy boots echoed against the polished marble, their frost-forged halberds catching the torchlight in sharp glints of silver and obsidian.

They split into two flawless flanks, snapping to attention and lowering their spears in rigid salute.

I stepped across the threshold.

The breath went out of the room.

My gown was spun from midnight-blue Northern silk, embroidered with silver threads that formed the constellation of the Frost Wolf. Over my shoulders draped an immaculate, floor-length cape of pure white arctic fox fur, fastened at my collar by a platinum clasp bearing the crowned crest of the Northern sovereign line. At my throat hung the Tear of the North—a legendary raw diamond the size of a raven's egg, glowing with a faint, chilling blue luminescence that cast soft reflections across my cheekbones.

My dark hair fell in deliberate, polished waves down my back, crowned with a delicate silver tiara woven from spun white gold.

I didn't rush. I walked forward with the slow, terrifying elegance of a monarch inspecting her court.

At the center of the ballroom, a crystal flute slipped through Julian’s fingers.

*Smash.*

The glass shattered on the marble floor, dark vintage champagne splashing across his polished leather boots.

Julian didn't look down at the mess. His eyes were locked onto my face, his skin draining of color until he looked like a corpse. His jaw went slack, his mouth slightly open, shivering as if he had just been submerged in freezing water.

Beside him, Luna Evelyn went rigid. Her wineglass hit the floor an instant later, splintering into dozens of sparkling shards.

"J-Julian..." Evelyn choked, grabbing her son’s arm with manic, trembling fingers. "Julian, tell me that isn't... that can't be—"

"Chloe?" Julian’s voice cracked, barely a ragged gasp.

He took a stumbling step forward, his eyes wildly raking over my gown, my jewels, and the imperial guards flanking my path. His mind couldn't bridge the gap between the girl who scrubbed greasy iron pans in his cellar and the breathtaking woman standing before him.

Selena’s smug expression twisted into a mask of pure venom and disbelief. She stared at the diamonds around my neck—gems that made her family’s entire treasury look like costume jewelry.

"What is this?" Selena hissed, clutching Julian’s sleeve so hard her knuckles turned white. "Julian! Why is that filthy kitchen whore dressed like an aristocrat? Guards! Have her thrown out!"

Not a single guard moved.

Instead, the High Chancellor of the Inter-Pack Alliance stepped onto the marble dais at the far end of the room.

He was an elder whose authority surpassed even the strongest provincial Alphas. He carried the heavy brass seal of the sovereign courts, his face stern and reverent.

The Chancellor struck his staff against the stone three times. The chime rang through the cavernous hall like a funeral bell.

"Bow your heads before the blood of the frozen throne!" the Chancellor bellowed, his voice echoing with absolute command. "Presenting Lady Chloe of House Frostborne! Sovereign Princess, sole heir to the Northern Empire, and master of the northern territories!"

A collective gasp ripped through the crowd.

The High Council members—powerful wolves who governed entire regions—didn't hesitate. One by one, they fell to one knee, pressing their fists against the polished floorboards.

Neighboring Alphas followed suit, their heads bowing in terror and reverence. The terrifying, ancient bloodline of the North held complete monopoly over regional gold, timber, and iron reserves. Offending them meant economic ruin and military annihilation.

Within seconds, hundreds of elite wolves were kneeling in total submission.

Only Julian, Evelyn, and Selena remained standing, frozen like statues in the middle of a collapsing reality.

Julian’s chest heaved erratically. The phantom wound from our severed mate bond flared back to life inside his sternum, burning him from within as his wolf finally recognized the horrifying truth.

I hadn't broken our bond with dirty rogue tricks.

I had severed it with royal blood so pure his mid-tier Alpha bloodline couldn't even fathom it.

"No..." Julian whispered, shaking his head violently as cold sweat beaded across his forehead. "No, this is a mistake... You were an orphan... You were mine..."

Evelyn collapsed onto her knees, not out of reverence, but because her legs had completely given out beneath her. She clutched her chest, her face gray, remembering the teacup she had smashed and the ancestral shawl she had kicked into the freezing mud.

I stopped ten paces away from Julian, the hem of my silk gown settling softly against the stone.

I looked down at him.

There was no warmth in my gaze. No lingering trace of the naive girl who had waited in a cold cabin on the night of the Moon Festival.

"You told me I should be grateful for scraps in your cellar, Julian," I said, my voice quiet, cutting through the dead silence of the hall.

Julian began to shake uncontrollably. He looked at Selena’s pale, insignificant face, then back at me—draped in diamonds that could purchase his entire territory ten times over.

He had thrown away an empire for a handful of silver.

And now, the bill had come due.