Chapter 78
Chapter 78
The carriage keeps moving.
That’s the first thing that feels wrong.
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Cassian’s words are still hanging in the air, ugly and sharp and too big for the space between us, and yet the wheels don’t slow. The horses don’t stumble. The world doesn’t pause just because someone casually announced that my future might involve bleeding out on stone for the entertainment of elders who hate me.
Luna Battle.
Fight to the death.
I stare out the narrow window, my reflection ghosted over the blur of land rushing past. Grass. Dirt. Trees. Same shit as always. I half expect the words to bounce back, to rearrange themselves into something else if I give them long enough.
They don’t.
“What?” I say finally, flat and slow, like I’m correcting someone’s math. “Say that again p>
Cassian doesn’t look at me. He keeps his gaze forward, hands folded tight in his lap like he’s bracing for impact. “The Imperial Council declared a Luna Battle,” he repeats, voice even, professional, like he’s announcing the weather. “Before the coronation proceeds p>
I blink once.
Twice.
My mouth opens and nothing comes out, because apparently my brain is still stuck on the word battle and refusing to process the rest.
I turn to Alaric.
He’s gone still in that terrifying way he gets when something snaps too cleanly inside him. His jaw is locked so tight I can hear his teeth grind. One hand is braced on the seat beside him, fingers curled like he’s already crushing someone’s throat in his head.
“They did what,” he says.
It’s not loud.
That’s worse.
“They moved without your authorization,” Cassian says carefully. “The elders called an emergency convening while we were en route. Unanimous vote p>
Alaric laughs once.
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Chapter 78
It’s sharp. Humorless. The kind of sound that gets people killed.
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“They don’t get to make unanimous decisions without me,” he says. “They don’t get to breathe without me p>
I don’t interrupt. I just keep watching him, because I’ve seen this version before. King–mode. The one that forgets collateral damage exists. The one that would happily burn the entire council chamber to the ground and call it housecleaning.
“They’re invoking tradition,” Cassian adds, like that’ll soften the blow. “Old law. Ancient precedent p>
“Ancient precedent can choke on my dick,” Alaric snaps. His eyes flick to me then, sharp and wild. “This is a fucking setup p>
No shit.
I turn back to the window and press my forehead briefly to the glass. It’s cold. Grounding. My breath fogs the surface for a second before disappearing, and something about that feels fitting.
I had a plan.
Not a perfect one. Not a clean one. But a plan.
Queenhood was supposed to be strategic. Political. Slow. I was going to dismantle them piece by piece with smiles and signatures and quiet authority. I was going to make people like Ariel obsolete without ever getting my hands dirty.
And now the council has decided they want blood instead.
Cute.
I straighten and pull away from the glass. “So who are the candidates p>
Cassian hesitates.
That tells me everything.
“Cassian,” I say. “Don’t do that thing where you look like you’re about to apologize for existing. Who p>
“There are… multiple contenders,” he says. “Eligible Lunas with backing. Including p>
“Camilla,” I finish.
His silence confirms it.
I snort. “Of course she is p>
Alaric explodes.
“That is not happening,” he says, turning fully toward me now. “Absolutely fucking not. I’ll overturn it. I’ll tear the council apart stone by stone if I have to p>
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Chapter 78
“I know.” I say calmly.
He stops short, clearly not expecting agreement.
“But you can’t,” I add.
His eyes flash. “Watch me p>
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I meet his gaze without flinching. “You do that, and they’ll call you a tyrant. Again. They’ll spin it as proof you’re unfit to rule, that you’re ruled by instinct and obsession and whatever other pretty words they like to use when they’re scared p>
His nostrils flare. He knows I’m right. That doesn’t make him less angry.
“They’re trying to corner you,” he says, lower now. “They’re trying to put you in the ring so they don’t have to deal with you later p>
I roll my shoulders once, loosening the tension creeping up my spine. “Yeah. I noticed p>
“Sorin p>
“I’ll do it p>
The words land between us like a dropped weapon.
Cassian inhales sharply.
Alaric freezes.
The carriage hits a rut, jolting us slightly, and for a second everything feels tilted–like I just stepped off a ledge and haven’t hit the ground yet.
“You will not,” Alaric says slowly.
I tilt my head. “You don’t get to decide that p>
He stares at me like I’ve just lost my fucking mind. “You have no combat training at this level. No experience in ritual combat. This isn’t sparring in the yard, Sorin. This is blood law p>
“I know p>
“You could die p>
I smile. Not sweet. Not soft. Sharp around the edges. “We all could. That’s kind of the selling point p>
“That’s not funny p>
“I’m not joking p>
Silence stretches. Thick. Heavy. Cassian shifts like he wants to disappear into the upholstery.
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Alaric drags a hand through his hair, pacing the length of the carriage even though there’s barely room. “This is insane. You’re underqualified and they know it. That’s why they did this p>
“Then teach me,” I say.
He stops.
Slowly, he turns back to me.
“What p>
“You heard me,” I say. “You’re the strongest Lycan King this realm has seen in generations. You train warriors who scare the shit out of entire packs. Teach me p>
There it is.
The flicker in his eyes. Not fear. Something else. Something dangerously close to pride and panic tangled together.
Cassian clears his throat. “The timeline is… tight p>
“How tight,” I ask.
“A week p>
Alaric and I both turn on him at the same time.
“A week?” I repeat.
Cassian nods grimly. “Seven days p>
“Fuck me,” I mutter, rubbing my face. Stress spikes hard and fast, buzzing under my skin like static–but instead of backing down, something in me locks into place.
Fine.
A week is a week.
I drop my hands and straighten. “Okay p>
Alaric stares at me like I’ve just volunteered to walk into a fire. “That’s it? Okay p>
“What do you want me to do,” I snap. “Cry? Beg them to reconsider? I’ve done enough of that for one lifetime p>
His jaw tightens again. “I won’t let them take you from me p>
I soften just a fraction. “Then don’t. Help me win p>
The carriage slows as the Imperial Pack grounds come into view. Massive iron gates. Stone towers. Guards already snapping to attention.
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Chapter 78
Alaric looks away first.
That tells me everything.
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The moment we step onto the grounds, the air shifts. It’s colder here. Heavier. Every movement measured, every glance weighted with protocol and power.
Cole approaches, relief flashing across his face–until he sees Alaric’s expression.
“My King,” Gole starts.
“Get the council,” Alaric cuts in. “Now p>
Cole blinks. “Immediately p>
“Do I look patient p>
Cole doesn’t answer. He just nods and turns on his heel.
Alaric starts toward the keep, long strides, fury barely contained.
“I’m coming,” I say.
He stops dead.
“No,” he says without turning. “You’re staying in our room p>
I laugh, short and incredulous. “Is that so you can slaughter anyone who disagrees with you without witnesses? ”
He whirls on me. “This is not a debate p>
“I didn’t think it was,” I fire back. “I thought it was you trying to cage me again p>
His eyes darken. Dangerous. Heated. The kind of look that promises he’d fuck me raw and ruin me if we were alone–but we’re not, and that makes it worse.
“I’m trying to protect you,” he growls.
“And I’m done being protected to death,” I snap. “Move, Alaric. Or carry me. Either way, I’m going p>
He hesitates.
Just long enough.
Then he turns and stalks forward.
I follow.
The council chamber doors loom ahead, heavy and unforgiving, and every step toward them feels like crossing a line I can’t uncross.
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Good.
I step inside and the door seals behind us with a dull, final thud.
Every elder rises.
Not out of respect.
Out of fear.
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The room is built like a threat–tiered stone seating curving inward, banners hanging heavy and dark, the sigil of the Imperial Pack carved into the floor like a warning. No windows. No warmth. Just power pressed into architecture.
Camilla is already here.
Of course she is.
She stands near the front, draped in pale silk like she’s auditioning for sainthood. Her eyes are red. Not crying–red–worked–red. One hand lingers near her cheek, fingers damp, lowering slowly like she’s just finished wiping away tears.
Bravo.
My wolf yawns in my head. If I had eyes, I’d roll them.
Camilla looks up and catches me staring.
She smiles, a little too satisfied.
I don’t smile back. I just stare until her lips twitch and she looks away.
Alaric doesn’t slow as he walks us to the center of the chamber. His hand brushes my lower back–not possessive. Anchoring. Heat radiates off him in controlled waves, the kind that promises violence if pushed.
“Sit,” an elder says, voice brittle.
Alaric doesn’t even glance at him.
“No,” he says calmly. “You’ll speak first p>
Silence drops.
The kind that hums in your ears.
An older man stands–white hair pulled tight, hands shaking just enough to notice. “My King, this council acted in the best interest of the realm p>
“Stop,” Alaric
says.
The word isn’t loud. It doesn’t need to be.
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“You made a decision about my throne without my consent.” His gaze flicks slowly across the room. “Explain why you’re still breathing p>
The elder swallows. Another stands beside him, then another. Soon they’re all on their feet, voices overlapping, justification piling on justification.
“Stability p>
“The people need p>
“The Imperial Pack requires a Queen who p>
“A Queen,” Alaric repeats softly.
That shuts them up.
My attention drifts back to Camilla. She’s watching him like he hung the moon and stars personally for her. Her father sits two seats behind her, posture relaxed, eyes sharp.
He knows exactly how this is going to play out.
I feel my jaw tighten.
“So,” I say, cutting through the quiet. My voice echoes louder than I expect. “We’re just pretending that attempted murder doesn’t count as treason now p>
Heads snap toward me.
Camilla gasps. Literally gasps. Hand to chest. Tears on command.
I keep going.
“The White Wolves envoy, Beta Cassian, was poisoned inside Imperial territory on his own bowl of dinner. By your chosen candidate.” I look around the room. “Or did everyone collectively hit their heads and forget that part p>
The silence this time is stunned.
Good.
Then Camilla’s father stands slowly.
He smooths the front of his robe like he has all the time in the world.
“The envoy’s legitimacy was questionable,” he says evenly. “They should never have been granted access. Any action my daughter took was in protection of this realm p>
I stare at him.
“You’re blaming the victim p>
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He tilts his head. “I’m reframing the narrative.
My hands curl into fists. “You’re rewriting reality p>
He shrugs. “That is politics p>
I laugh. I can’t help it. It comes out sharp and humorless. “So if I stab someone and say I felt threatened, does that make me Queen too p>
A few elders flinch.
Alaric doesn’t move. He looks almost bored now. That’s worse than anger. That’s him knowing he could end this with a sentence–or a slaughter.
Camilla’s father continues, voice smooth. “And may I remind the council that it was you, Sorin Carter, who advocated for the White Wolves‘ presence. If betrayal occurred, responsibility falls p>
“Finish that sentence,” I say.
He does.
“-on you p>
Something cold settles in my chest.
I turn to Alaric, expecting him to erupt.
He doesn’t.
He watches me instead.
That’s when the elder asks it.
“Do you even feel a mate bond with the King p>
The room freezes. Every breath stops.
I feel Alaric’s hand reach for mine.
Instinct.
Habit.
Safety.
I pull away.
The sound of it–skin separating–feels too loud.
I swallow.
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Chapter 78
My throat burns.
“No,” I say.
One word. It detonates the room.
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Murmurs explode. Shock ripples outward. Camilla’s eyes light up like she’s just been handed the crown.
Alaric turns to me sharply. “Sorin p>
“I’m not lying,” I say, meeting his gaze. “I won’t start now p>
No matter how much I tell myself of using Alaric, it won’t change the fact that I haven’t felt any connection from him. I hate myself for that, because my body still wants him.
The elder nods once, satisfied. “Then the conditions are clear. No bond. No leverage.” He looks around the chamber. “The Luna Battle will proceed p>
My stomach drops.
Blood law.
Camilla smiles openly now.
I straighten my spine.
My hands are shaking, but I don’t let anyone see it.
“Fine,” I say.
The word tastes like iron.
Because I’m not backing down.
And as the chamber erupts again, alarms suddenly scream through the keep–sharp, piercing, wrong.
Every head snaps toward the doors.
Alaric’s eyes flash gold.
And whatever’s coming next-
It’s already too late to stop it.
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