<h4>Chapter 629: Saving Her King (VIII)</h4>


    <strong><i>[Third Person].</i></strong>


    It was over—the challenge, the fight, the struggle. Everyone thought this was the end. But just then, with thest of her strength, Este moved.


    Her fingers shot upward and deeply plunged into Meredith’s shoulders. The pain was sharp and unexpected.


    Meredith’s body jerked, and her grip loosened just enough for Este to tear herself free.


    Meredith staggered back a step as blood soaked through her shoulder where Este’s ws had struck.


    "Meredith!" Draven’s voice thundered, rm breaking through hisposure.


    Before Meredith could recover, the remaining vampire soldiers surged forward. They seized Este, and in a blur of dark motion, they retreated towards the shattered entrance.


    Meredith lunged forward in an effort to stop them. Sadly, it was toote. Their forms dissolved into shadows and speed, vanishing beyond the pce gates.


    But Este’s voice lingered, echoing through the fractured hall.


    "You are worthy, Queen of Stormveil," she called, her breath thin but proud. "We will meet again."


    A beatter, she finished, "And next time... it will be on a battlefield."


    Silence fell in her wake, leaving nothing but broken marble and the scent of blood, iron and dust.


    Meredith stood still, her chest rising and falling as her ws slowly retracted. Her silver hair clung to her blood-streaked shoulders.


    Draven pushed past Oscar despite protest and reached her. He caught her arms gently, his eyes scanning her wounds. "You’re hurt."


    "It’s nothing," she answered, though her shoulders burned.


    Around them, the Alphas and Elders stared not just at the destruction, but at her—at the truth they had witnessed.


    The silence didn’tst long. It never did in rooms filled with power. Soon, murmurs started softly, then spread.


    <i>Did you see—</i>


    <i>Purple light—</i>


    <i>She used fae magic—</i>


    <i>What is she—</i>


    <i>Is she a Fae?</i>


    Just then, one of the Elders stepped forward, pale-faced but voice sharp. "Your Majesty, we demand an exnation. The Queen—"


    "She used fae magic," another Alpha said bluntly. "Stormveil has hunted for faes for decades. And now—"


    "Enough." Oscar’s voice cut through the rising tension like steel.


    He stepped forward, cing himself slightly between the murmuring leaders and the injured royal couple.


    "The King will address all matters in due time," he said calmly, but there was iron beneath it. "Right now, you are standing in a hall that was just invaded by hundreds of vampires seconds ago."


    His gaze swept across them. "Your King and Queen have just defended you."


    The remindernded heavily.


    "They are injured," Oscar continued, quieter now but sharper. "And yet, instead of gratitude, you demand exnations?"


    No one answered. A few Elders shifted ufortably. An Alpha lowered his eyes.


    Oscar’s tone softened just enough to remain respectful. "Stormveil still stands because of them. Show some sense."


    The murmuring did not stoppletely, but it lost its bite. Then one by one, the Alphas bowed stiffly. Then the Elders followed.


    "We await Your Majesty’s summons," one said cautiously.


    Everyone began to file out of the broken hall, each carrying more questions than answers, but none dared push further today. Not after what they had seen.


    When the hall finally emptied, only Oscar remained.


    Meredith and Draven exchanged a look. Neither of them appeared surprised. This was expected.


    <i>Fae blood. Ancient prejudice. Political tension</i>.


    They had known this day woulde, all thanks to Meredith’s grandmother informing them sooner.


    Draven’s gaze dropped to Meredith’s shoulders once again. Blood darkened her clothes where Este’s ws had pierced her.


    "You are losing blood," he said again, softer now.


    Meredith frowned slightly. "You’re bleeding more than I am."


    His cheek was torn. His ribs bruised. Blood still traced a line from the corner of his mouth, but he just gave a faint huff of augh.


    "I’ve had worse."


    She did not look convinced. Before she could argue further, Draven bent and swept her into his arms.


    She stiffened in surprise. "Draven—"


    "Quiet," he muttered. "Let me pretend I’m not the one falling apart."


    Despite the ache in his chest, he held her securely. Her silver hair spilt over his arm. One hand instinctively curled against his shoulder, careful of her own wound.


    Oscar turned away discreetly.


    As Draven carried her from the shattered hall, his voice lowered so only she could hear. "You terrified me."


    Her fingers tightened slightly against him. "You were the one with a vampire’s hand in your throat. Who do you think was more terrified?"


    He nced down at her. "She almost broke your arms, Meredith." He said, carrying her through the pce corridors, and all the way to their private chambers.


    The doors closed behind them with a heavy thud, shutting out the noise, the politics, the whispers.


    For a moment, it was just the two of them. He lowered her carefully onto the edge of the bed, and only then did he allow himself to wince.


    Meredith noticed immediately. "See... you shouldn’t have carried me," she said softly.


    "I forgot you weighed a ton," he teased, already reaching for a clean cloth from the nearby cab.


    Next, he knelt in front of her and gently peeled back the fabric at her shoulder. The w marks were deep, but already beginning to close slowly under her elerated healing.


    His jaw tightened. "She dug deep."


    Meredith gave a small shrug, then regretted it when pain red. "I nearly had her." The frustration in her voice was unmistakable. "I almost ended it."


    Draven dipped the cloth into warm water and began cleaning the blood from her skin with careful hands.


    "She was gravely injured," he said. "You crushed her heart. She will not recover from that quickly."


    Meredith stared ahead. "She escaped."


    "She escaped barely alive." He met her eyes. "And wounded pride is worse than broken bone for someone like Este."


    Meredith exhaled slowly. "I hope she doesn’t make it past the border."


    Draven’s expression softened. "You know her minions will die before letting her be captured."


    She did not argue. They both understood the kind of loyalty vampires had for their leaders.


    "They willy down their lives so she can leave Stormveil," he continued quietly.