Chapter 9: The Price of the Crown
The air in the Grand Council Chamber of Silvercrest Castle was thick with judgment. It was not just the cold stone and the high, vaulted ceiling that created the oppressive atmosphere; it was the combined scent of forty-three high-ranking Alphas and Betas—the pillars of the Northern Territories—all radiating fear, suspicion, and a collective, dangerous defiance.
I stood at the head of the obsidian table, alone. My customary royal guard, Draven, was not present; he was enforcing the new quarantine measures around the West Tower, physically demonstrating my refusal to compromise Kaira's safety.
I wore my heaviest King's armor beneath my tunic, not for physical protection, but for psychological ballast. The silver wound on my back ached—a deep, constant throb that was a physical monument to Kaira's nightmare-driven violence just hours earlier. I had told the Council it was a residual injury from the assassin's dart, a lie they had swallowed, but the physical pain served as a constant reminder of the chaos I was defending.
Lord Eldrin, the Alpha of the powerful Ironwood Territory and the de facto leader of the conservative opposition, rose to speak. He was an old wolf, his muzzle grayed, but his eyes were sharp and predatory.
"Your Majesty," Eldrin began, his voice dripping with false deference, "we convene under duress. The security of the Crown has been breached. The assassin's attack on your person, followed by the immediate, unexplained quarantine of the Royal Wing, speaks of an instability this Kingdom has not faced since the Fall of the Southern Clans."
He didn't need to finish the thought. Instability equaled weakness. Weakness equaled war.
"State your purpose, Lord Eldrin," I commanded, my voice flat, holding no inflection that could be seized upon as emotion. My wolf, Fenrir, was a tightly coiled viper in my chest, his rage focused and silent, ready to strike if the Council dared threaten my mate.
Eldrin pressed his advantage. "The purpose is simple, Your Majesty. We require resolution regarding the woman known as Kaira Blackthorn. The rumors swirling through the court—the whispers of her being found in an abandoned Underland dungeon, her inability to shift, the subsequent attack targeting her—have reached every corner of the Territories."
He paused, letting the fear of the unknown settle. "The consensus is clear. The ancient lore, the one that speaks of the Moon's Mate becoming the Vessel of Ruin if her wolf fails to surface by her twentieth year, must be addressed."
Murmurs rippled through the chamber, confirming the shared fear. They were all afraid of The Echo. They were afraid of the end of the world. They were afraid of the woman I loved.
"Kaira Blackthorn is the Moon's Mate. She is not a subject of prophecy; she is the Queen-designate," I stated, a simple assertion of royal authority.
Eldrin leaned forward, his hands resting on the table, challenging my gaze. "With respect, King Aric, she is currently contained in a magically shielded tower after nearly killing you, according to the official report of the physician. She is exhibiting signs of extreme psychological fragility and, we suspect, a deep-seated spiritual contagion. The Kingdom's stability rests on your clear judgment."
He produced a heavy scroll, sealed with the ancient symbol of the High Council. "We formally invoke the Purification Mandate, established by King Theron during the First Shadow Wars. The Mandate stipulates that any carrier of an unbound, destructive entity—or any vessel whose condition compromises the stability of the Lunar King—must be immediately excised from the bloodline."
Execution. The unspoken word hung in the air, cold and definitive.
Fenrir exploded in my mind. NO! MATE! KILL THEM ALL! BURN THE SCROLL!
The protective urge was so violent it felt like I might physically transform right there, rending my clothes and attacking the gathered Alphas. I gripped the edge of the obsidian table, channeling the entire surge of rage into my core, forcing the wolf into submission. I could not afford to lose control. If I did, they would claim I was already compromised.
I let the silence stretch, forcing every Alpha to meet my gaze and hold it, asserting my dominance not with a roar, but with a silent, crushing weight of command.
When I finally spoke, my voice was dangerously quiet.
"The Mandate is noted, Lord Eldrin. And it is rejected."
Eldrin's composure faltered for the first time. "Rejected? Your Majesty, you cannot dismiss a resolution unanimously agreed upon by the High Council. The safety of the Territories—"
"The safety of the Territories is my sole responsibility," I cut him off, my voice gaining volume, becoming the true Voice of the King—deep, resonant, and absolute. "And your judgment is flawed, based on fear, not strategy."
I moved from behind the desk, walking slowly toward Eldrin, projecting my Alpha aura with every step. I made sure they all smelled the protective edge of my scent, mixed with the cold determination of a ruler.
"You view Kaira Blackthorn as a vessel of contagion. I view her as the lure," I explained, my argument shifting from defense to offense. "Who sent the assassin with the purified silver? Not one of our internal rivals. This was the mark of the exiled territories, or a foreign entity desperate to destabilize us. They attacked the moment she was found. Why?"
I stopped directly in front of Eldrin, forcing him to slightly incline his head to look up at me.
"Because they understand the prophecy better than you do, Eldrin. They know Kaira is the key to either salvation or ruin. If she is executed, the bond is irrevocably severed. The exiled territories would view the destruction of the Moon's Mate as a strategic victory—a sign that the Lunar Throne is weak, superstitious, and willing to sacrifice its own to a legend."
I leaned in, my voice dropping to a low, chilling threat. "They want us distracted by internal fear while they muster their armies. Executing the Luna is an admission of failure that will plunge these five territories into immediate, bloody war. I will not give them that weakness."
The Alphas around the table began to fidget, the strategic argument cutting through their fear. War was a tangible, immediate threat; prophecy was ancient, uncertain lore.
I pressed the point, capitalizing on their hesitation. "The assassin called her a 'monster's consort' to drive this exact fear. They sought to compromise my health, forcing a Council decision, hoping you would do their killing for them."
I deliberately touched the wound on my shoulder. "I was injured defending her. I will not have my sacrifice—or the Crown's sovereignty—undermined by ancient superstition. She stays. She will be healed. She will be protected. And she will be introduced to the Territories not as a vessel, but as a traumatized victim—a symbol of the cruelty of our enemies."
My entire body pulsed with the raw power of the Alpha Command. This was not a debate; it was an ultimatum.
"Until she stands whole and willing at my side, she is under my personal protection. Her survival is now directly tied to the stability of the Crown. She is not to be touched, addressed, or judged by this Council."
I stared at Eldrin until the old Alpha, his face pale with suppressed fury, finally yielded. His shoulders slumped slightly, a physical sign of submission.
"We understand the strategic necessity, Your Majesty," he conceded, the words heavy and resentful. "But we must insist on immediate containment measures. No interaction with the court. No public appearances. And if her condition deteriorates, if the contagion manifests publicly—"
"If her condition deteriorates," I finished for him, my voice flat, "I will handle it. Until then, you will focus your efforts on identifying the source of the assassination attempt. Find the hand that targeted the Queen-designate. I want that kingdom's head on a pike."
I gave them a dismissal look, cold and absolute. I didn't wait for them to leave. I turned my back on the Council, walking toward the private exit that led directly to the West Tower.
I didn't spare a glance for Eldrin, whose eyes were boring into my spine with pure, calculated malice. I had won the battle, but I had lost a considerable amount of internal allegiance. They had seen the weakness—my love for her—and they would use it.
As the heavy door sealed behind me, I allowed the mask to drop. I sagged against the cool wood, closing my eyes. The pain in my back was nothing compared to the psychic exhaustion of keeping Fenrir contained while fighting forty-three other Alphas.
I had bought Kaira time. But at the cost of splitting my Council.
I knew that Eldrin and the others hadn't surrendered their fear; they had simply decided that if the King refused to execute the threat, they would wait for the threat to destroy the King, thus opening the door to a new regime.
My mind instantly turned to Kaira. I needed to see her, to feel her proximity, to ground the frantic anxiety of my wolf.
I am hiding the truth from them. I am hiding the truth from her, I thought, the weight of the secrets pressing down.
She was currently trapped between the King who loved her and the monster that was using her pain. And now, she was the object of political maneuvers that could lead to full-scale war.
I had chosen the impossible path. I had chosen her over my duty. Now I had to make the world bend to that choice. I had to heal Kaira before the Council, or the prophecy, executed her. And I had to do it without telling her that the black hole in her soul was not merely trauma, but a sentient force.
I pushed off the wall and started the long walk up to the West Tower, to the only person who made the burden of the Crown bearable, and the only person who held the power to destroy it all.