Chapter 68: The Moonlit Ball Queen

Hollowcrest announced nominations for the Moonlit Ball Queen.

Tessa nominated me without permission.

I threatened to end our friendship.

She laughed.

"You'll survive."

"I don't want to be Ball Queen."

"Then lose."

"That's your strategy?"

"Yes."

Unfortunately, my name went viral.

Not because I campaigned.

Because everyone remembered the freshman forum.

The old comments had said Elodie was the obvious Moonlit Ball Queen candidate.

Beautiful.

Silver-grey wolf.

Pack princess.

Meanwhile, anonymous students had wanted to see how ugly Nessa was.

Now people treated the nomination like poetic justice.

I hated that framing.

Elodie did too.

She was nominated again.

We met for coffee.

"This is awkward," she said.

"Only if we make it awkward."

"I don't want people turning it into you versus me."

"Same."

She stirred her drink.

"Last year, I would've wanted to beat you."

"I know."

"I was awful."

"Also know."

She smiled.

"Thanks."

A student gossip page posted a poll.

WHO DESERVES THE CROWN?

Nessa: the glow-up queen.

Elodie: the original beauty.

I reported it.

Elodie did too.

Then we released a joint statement.

Beauty isn't a combat sport.

Tessa called it boring.

Rhea called it historically important.

Rowan asked whether he got to vote.

"No."

"Why?"

"Conflict of interest."

"I have eyes."

"Exactly."

The Ball committee changed the criteria after backlash.

Instead of appearance, nominees were evaluated for campus contribution, leadership, academics, and community work.

That made the competition more meaningful.

It also made me more likely to win.

Annoying.

Elodie had built an independent student fund for wolves leaving controlling Pack families.

I had helped establish anti-harassment policies and survivor protections.

Other nominees had equally strong work.

For once, the discussion wasn't about whose waist was smaller.

The night of the Ball, I wore gold.

Not because gold made me look thinner.

Because it was Lunaris.

Elodie wore silver.

We entered together.

The crowd loved it.

Knox looked confused.

"You two planned this?"

"No," Elodie said.

"Stop assuming women organize themselves around you."

I nearly applauded.

Rowan arrived late from a Council meeting.

He kissed my cheek.

"You look beautiful."

"Thank you."

Then he looked at Elodie.

"You too."

Knox narrowed his eyes.

Rowan smiled innocently.

Growth had limits.

When the winner was announced, it wasn't me.

It was Elodie.

For half a second, the room seemed to wait for my reaction.

I stood and applauded.

She stared at me from the stage.

Then laughed.

After receiving the crown, she took the microphone.

"I spent most of freshman year thinking being admired meant winning."

The room quieted.

"I was wrong."

She looked at me.

"And I owe someone an apology that doesn't need to be private anymore."

I immediately became uncomfortable.

"Nessa, I participated in humiliating you because I thought another girl's insecurity made me look stronger."

Her voice shook.

"It didn't."

She took off the crown.

"I don't deserve this because I'm prettier than anyone."

She looked at the other nominees.

"I deserve it only if what I did this year matters."

Applause filled the hall.

I smiled.

That was enough.

Then she did something ridiculous.

She walked offstage and put the crown on my head.

"No."

"Yes."

"You won."

"Temporary sharing."

"This is not constitutional."

"Neither is Rhea's Keeper privilege."

Fair.

Pictures spread instantly.

Elodie and me laughing under one crown.

The caption that trended wasn't about Knox.

Wasn't about fat versus thin.

Wasn't about which woman was more beautiful.

It read:

THE GIRLS REFUSED THE RIVALRY.

I liked that.

Later, Elodie reclaimed her crown.

As she should.

Rowan and I danced.

He had improved significantly.

"Look at you."

"I took lessons."

I stopped.

"You did?"

"Supreme Alpha duties."

"Dancing is not a Supreme Alpha duty."

"It is when my mate mocks me publicly."

I laughed.

Across the hall, Knox asked Elodie to dance.

She made him wait.

Good.

Tessa danced with someone from the journalism department.

Rhea and Cassian argued while dancing, which seemed physically difficult but emotionally inevitable.

I looked around the room.

Last year, this campus had been the place where I expected humiliation.

Now it was simply school.

Friends.

Messy relationships.

Assignments.

Dances.

Life.

The crown never mattered.

That was probably why I could finally enjoy wearing it for five ridiculous minutes.

The Ball committee later asked Elodie and me to help rewrite future nomination guidelines. We added a rule prohibiting appearance-based campaigning and another requiring nominees' consent before public polls used their photos. It was a tiny policy compared with Moonwell reforms, but campus culture mattered too. Cruelty often practiced on small stages before reaching bigger ones. If students learned that another person's body was acceptable public entertainment, they carried that habit elsewhere. I knew because I had once been entertainment in a forum thread. Changing the rules wouldn't make everyone kind. It would at least stop the institution from rewarding cruelty.

Later, I wrote the day's events in my private journal. I had learned not to trust memory to preserve uncertainty, because hindsight made every decision look cleaner than it had felt. I recorded what frightened me, what I almost misunderstood, and which people had changed my mind. Leadership was easier to romanticize after the danger passed. I wanted the record to remain honest.