Chapter 129
129
Third Person’s POV
Lycan Erasmus’s white musk pheromones carried a hint of sulfur.
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He glanced at the fresh battle–scar on Lance’s nape and forced a smile. “This was also the intention of the former Lycan Luna and me–we wouldn’t have to use the New Moon Priestess matter to prod you into proposing; otherwise, you might have waited until she found a Second Chance.”
“She’s in high demand now, not only as a Golden Claw Gamma but also inheriting Alpha Bentley’s combat prowess. She’s bold and strategic, breaking through city gates on her first battle and succeeding twice.”
“Moreover, she trained at the Warscar Training Camp, where many powerful werewolves are her classmates. My dear brother, you’re truly fortunate.”
Lance’s cedar pheromones carried a sweet pine note.
He smiled warmly and happily, “I’m naturally very fortunate. I’ve liked her since her days in the Shadow Peaks.”
“When I fell for her, she was just a little she–wolf bold enough to bite my combat boot,” his wolf ears trembled slightly at the memory, “It had nothing to do with her ability to lead werewolf warriors into battle or her bloodline.”
A trace of white musk dispersed from Lycan Erasmus.
Of course, he was aware of his younger brother’s feelings–ever since that little she–wolf left tooth marks on Lance’s boot, Lance’s wolf had been captivated by her.
He nodded, “Indeed.”
Indeed, Lance had cherished feelings for Adelaide long before any pragmatic calculations entered the picture.
It was Erasmus who overcomplicated things.
Though Erasmus’s face wore a smile, a tinge of melancholy lingered in his heart.
He gazed at the Eternal Night Altar outside the window, the moonstone spire reflecting the complexity in his eyes.
Initially, he believed that no matter Lance’s choice, he could secure some benefit for himself, indifferent to Lance’s decision.
Yet now, with Lance resolutely choosing Adelaide and immediately relinquishing command of the army, a subtle, unspoken regret surfaced.
As for whether Lance would have willingly surrendered command without Adelaide’s involvement remained uncertain.
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He suddenly recalled twenty years ago, a little she–wolf playing under the throne with war chess pieces declaring, “I will become a wolf king like my royal brother.”
His younger brother was ambitious–recapturing the Southern Border was his ambition.
Whether other ambitions would emerge with time was anyone’s guess .
Now , with command surrendered and no lingering concerns, the royal family could maintain harmony.
As for Adelaide……
Erasmus’s mind conjured her appearance when she sought an audience to dissolve a mate bond–serene and unruffled.
The second time she entered the palace, her pheromones carried the tang of gunpowder, her wolf eyes blazing with a wildfire that even glaciers couldn’t extinguish. “Werewolves from the Western Tribe, disguised as Dragon Ash soldiers, are marching toward the Southern Border!”
At the time, he took it as a spurned she–wolf’s revenge, failing to detect the pure anxiety of a battle–worn wolf in her pheromones.
Now, recalling her calm during the contract dissolution and the fiery passion she revealed only when discussing military matters, he realized that while other noble she–wolves chased after jewelry, she was always preoccupied with the stability of the entire werewolf kingdom.
A tinge of melancholy filled Erasmus’s heart. Such a she–wolf, even if once mated to another, was unforgettable.
For a fleeting moment, he had wished Lance would cling to army command and forsake Adelaide.
But now….. it was acceptable.
“Shall I officiate your bonding at the next full moon meeting with the Royal Elder Council’s blessings?” he tapped the wolf–carved armrest of his throne.
Lance leaned back in his chair, seeming to shed a great burden, appearing carefree and dashing, “Thank you for your kind offer, Lycan Erasmus, but it’s too grand. Adelaide has been mated before; I don’t want her in the spotlight.”
Lycan Erasmus nodded slightly, “But you must consider how to break the news to your mother.”
“Tell her straightforwardly.” As Lance rose, the frost wolf totem on his armor gleamed coldly.
Within the palace, furious and shrill voices erupted.
High Priestess Priscilla’s howls carried bloodmoon curses, “She wants to be Lance’s mate? Only over my dead body! Tell her to abandon such fantasies, or I’ll show her no mercy.”
Lance’s pheromones rippled under the iron–rust oppression as he calmly regarded the distraught Priscilla.
He’d grown up amidst such bellowing and was desensitized to it.
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But Adelaide might not adapt so easily.
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Priscilla’s rose pheromones suddenly condensed into blood–red ice crystals. Her wolf–transformed claws nearly pierced Lance’s throat, “I’ll be residing in the pack in a few days. Should she dare to set a paw in my territory, I’ll sever her legs with these claws.”
Lance’s cedar pheromones turned icy , carrying the chill of a northern blizzard. As he dodged her claws, the frost wolf emblem on his armor flashed with martial coldness .
He nodded slightly, “Maiming her legs sounds good. I’ve seen her disable enemies in battle–swift as lightning, crack, and they’re in three pieces. A sight most satisfying.”
Priscilla slapped the air, her voice sharp, “No matter her lineage as a Davidson or her training at Warscar, to me, she’s but a she–wolf exiled by the Bloodmoon Pack.”