Submission is Not My Style novel Chapter 146

I don’t look like a grieving daughter anymore. I look like a queen stepping into a role I never asked for.

The omega bows once more, whispering, “The kingdom awaits you.”

The door opens, and there he is.

Jack.

He’s dressed in his burial wear, black trimmed with silver. The same as mine. His hair is pulled back, his jaw tight, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, and I know why- because while I’ve been crumbling, he’s been the one holding the kingdom together. He’s been doing what I should have been doing as the Alpha King’s daughter.

My throat aches as he takes my hand. His palm is warm, steadying, and he gives me a small, sad smile. That smile alone nearly undoes me.

“Ready?” he whispers.

No. I’ll never be ready for this. But I nod anyway.

He leads me outside, silent and solid at my side, and the world seems to shift as we step out of the palace gates. A vast field stretches before us, transformed into a sea of mourning black and silver. Torches burn along the path, their flames swaying in the breeze like they’re bowing to the dead. Hundreds–maybe thousands of people stand waiting, heads lowered, faces wet with tears.

–

At the center, two pyres rise. My parents lie upon them, clothed in white robes, their crowns resting on their chests. They don’t look like rulers anymore. They look like… my mother and father.

My heart squeezes painfully, but I force myself not to crumble. Not here.

The High Priest steps forward, his voice deep and steady though it trembles with reverence. “Today we return our king and queen to the heavens. Their bodies will burn, their smoke will rise, and the skies will carry their sacrifice to the Moon Goddess herself.” He pauses, his throat tight. “Let this fire be the mark of their devotion, the proof of their courage, and the memory of their reign.”

The crowd answers in unison, voices breaking:

“Long live the King. Long live the Queen. Their names will never die.”

The words echo through the field, raw and haunting, as if the earth itself is grieving.

Jack presses the torch into my hand. His touch lingers, his eyes holding mine, silently lending me his strength. My chest heaves, my fingers trembling as I step forward.

+1

The priest’s voice cauties again. “Daughter of the Moon. Heir of their blood Light the path”

1 take a breath that feels like knives cutting into my lungs. And then I set the torch down. The flames lick up, catching the pyres.

The fire roars to life, fierce and hungry. My parents are swallowed by the blaze, and gasps ripple through the crowd. People fall to their knees, wailing, blessing their names, praising them.

Still, no tears come from me. Not this time. I don’t cry, because I know this is not their end. This is just their bodies. Their souls… their souls will find me again. I press my hand to my belly, whispering silently to the child within.

Jack’s voice slides into my mind through the bond, low and gentle. “Go sit. I’ll finish the rites. Let me carry this for you.”

I turn my face to him, my heart swelling with gratitude. “Thank you.”

His lips twitch, almost a smile, before he turns back to face the kingdom. His shoulders are squared, his presence commanding. He takes my place as if he was born for this role, his voice strong where mine

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