Rejected Omega Was Told to Sing the Luna Hymn as a Joke – But Her Voice Left the Alpha King Speechless

Weakness as Strength

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

Thera’s gaze was sharp.

“Because right now, you’re protected by novelty and the king’s obvious devotion. But that won’t last. Eventually, you’ll have to prove yourself on your own merits. And when that happens, your lack of a wolf will be the first thing they attack.”

My chest tightened.

“So what am I supposed to do? I can’t change what I am.”

“No. But you can change how you frame it.”

Thera leaned against the fountain’s edge.

“You’re not wolfless because you’re weak or defective. You’re wolfless because you’re something else—something that doesn’t fit into our neat categories. And that’s exactly why you could see both halves of the king. You weren’t blinded by wolf hierarchy or traditional power structures.”

“You’re saying my weakness is actually a strength?”

The End of Apologies

“I’m saying stop thinking of it as a weakness at all.”

Thera’s smile was sharp.

“You broke an impossible curse, Catherine. You’re marrying the most powerful alpha in the territories. You’ve achieved what every noble-born female has been trying for years. Stop apologizing for how you did it.”

The words settled into me, solid and true.

“Thank you,”

I said quietly.

“Don’t thank me. Just survive.”

Thera straightened.

“The council will test you, other packs will challenge you, and there will be females—many females—who wanted what you have and will resent you for taking it. You need to be ready.”

“How do I prepare for that?”

“By being exactly who you are: intelligent, observant, and unwilling to back down.”

Merits Beyond the Wolf

Thera’s expression softened slightly.

“And by trusting that the king chose well. He’s not a fool, Catherine. If he sees something in you, it’s there.”

She left me by the fountain, her words echoing in my mind. I wasn’t a weak thing that needed constant protection; I was the woman who’d walked into a beast’s cage and survived.

That had to count for something. The wedding preparations continued, but I started paying more attention.

I looked at the political maneuvering happening beneath the surface: who supported our union and who merely tolerated it, which packs saw opportunity and which saw threat, and how the servants reacted when I passed—genuine respect versus forced courtesy.

I began attending more council meetings, not as a silent observer but as an active participant. Charles encouraged it, often asking my opinion on matters of policy.

“The eastern territories are requesting additional resources for border patrol,”

one adviser reported.

“They claim rogue activity has increased.”

A Mind for Politics

“Increased? Or they’re just noticing it now that they want something?”

I asked before I could stop myself. The adviser blinked.

“I… I’m sorry, miss?”

“The eastern territories have been relatively quiet for months,”

I continued, pulling from the histories Charles had taught me.

“But their alpha is up for re-election within his pack. Requesting resources and appearing to protect his borders would strengthen his position politically.”

Charles’s eyes gleamed with approval.

“Excellent observation. Adviser Rothan, please investigate Miss Catherine’s theory before we allocate any resources.”

Rothan bowed, looking at me with new respect.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Word spread quickly: the king’s chosen mate had a mind for politics. Some saw it as an asset, others as another reason to resent me, but at least they were seeing me as something other than a helpless, wolfless girl.

Old Wounds

Two weeks before the wedding, my father arrived at the palace. I hadn’t seen him since the night Charles had claimed me.

I hadn’t spoken to him, hadn’t written. Part of me had hoped he’d simply stay away and let this new chapter of my life begin without the weight of old wounds.

But of course he came. His daughter was marrying the Alpha King; that was too politically valuable to ignore.

Thomas delivered the news with careful neutrality.

“Your father has requested an audience, Miss Catherine. The king asks if you wish to see him.”

My first instinct was to refuse, to send word that I was busy, that I had no time for the man who’d offered me up as a joke. But that was cowardice, and I wasn’t a coward anymore.

“I’ll see him,”

I said.

“In the garden, not the formal receiving rooms.”

Territorial Strength

I wanted him on my territory now, in a space where I felt strong. My father looked older than I remembered—more gray in his hair, deeper lines around his eyes.

He bowed when he saw me. He actually bowed, like I was someone who mattered.

“Catherine. You look well.”

“I am well. I kept my voice neutral. Why are you here, father?”

“To congratulate you, of course. To see my daughter before her wedding.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m proud of you, Catherine. To have caught the king’s attention, to have broken his curse…”

“I didn’t break the curse to catch his attention,”

I interrupted.

“I broke it because I fell in love with him—both halves of him—because he saw value in me when you never did.”