<h4>Chapter 71: Hidden Citizens - Nothing Is As It Seems</h4>
He chuckled softly. Everyone was seeing this the wrong way. He hadn’t hurt her...he wouldn’t. Why would he destroy what he had painstakingly helped perfect?
No, no, no. He needed her alive. Vibrant. Everything was going exactly as he had nned. Mostly.
The wolf mate was especially inconvenient. The worst kind of obstacle.
He gritted his teeth and pushed himself to his feet, limping slightly.
Then he sensed them.
Two auras, as clear as the moon in a vampire’s midnight sky. One was cold, ancient, a pulse of undead energy.
The other was primal, hot, and reckless, a heart pounding like war drums, fury echoing off.
"Well, well..." Morvakar smiled, eyes gleaming in the dark. "The cavalry arrives."
He stood in the center of the room, eyes closed.
"Let the show begin," he whispered, his grin stretching.
Their boots thundered down the stone hallway. Damien and Kyllian moved in sync, their steps fueled by two different but equally potent forces: vengeance and protectiveness. Luna’s name beat in their veins. They didn’t need to speak. They were bound in this moment by the singr purpose of making Morvakar regret ever leaving his cursed littleir.
As they rounded the final corner, the heavy door to the sorcerer’s chamber groaned open, revealing a wide, darkened parlor. And in the center of it all stood the man himself.
"Ah, and so the knights arrive," Morvakar said with a flourish. "Seeing you so close now, you are magnificent, Your Royal Highness." He bowed low, dramatically, as if this were some kind of ck-tie affair and not a potential death match. "Morvakar... at your service."
Kyllian didn’t hesitate. "Son of a bitch! What did you do to her?!"
With a growl that shook the walls, Kyllian lunged forward, but Morvakar merely flicked his fingers. A small ripple of old magic pulsed through the room and just like that, Kyllian copsed onto the nearest couch, out cold, his chest rising and falling in peaceful, involuntary slumber.
Damien cocked his head slightly, and raised a brow. "Huh. So that’s how to handle him," he said, as if mentally filing the trick. He almost looked impressed, and for a moment, even Morvakar looked pleased with himself.
Then Damien’s eyes glowed red and he blurred.
In a split second, he had closed the distance between them and had one hand wrapped tightly around Morvakar’s throat, lifting the sorcerer clean off the ground. The smug look vanished. His boots kicked helplessly above the floor. Magic crackled at his fingertips, but Damien squeezed harder, cutting off concentration, and oxygen.
"Come on, Morvakar," Damien said in a low growl. "This isn’t much of a challenge. I don’t see any magic. I’m disappointed. Honestly, I expected more ir."
Morvakar gasped, legs dangling, hands wing at Damien’s steel grip. "You... you cannot kill me..."
"Oh, see, that’s the part that’s been bothering me," Damien mused, cocking his head as if pondering a philosophical riddle. "People keep saying that. Why can’t I kill you?"
He tightened his grip. Morvakar’s eyes began to bulge, and yet he still managed a smirk.
"If I die..." he wheezed, "...so does she. Only I know how to save the princess," Morvakar wheezed, each word dragged from his lungs. He clutched his throat, eyes bulging with pain and triumph all at once.
Damien’s crimson eyes shed with a predator’s calm. "But you’re not going to tell me... So, I mean, the logical thing now is to rip off your head and be done with it."
Morvakar’s breath hitched. His pupils dted in fear, a fear so sharp it sliced through his smug demeanor. "Wait..."
"Didn’t really think that through now, did you?" Damien leaned in slightly, just enough to make his words feel like hot breath on the sorcerer’s skin. His fangs poked from behind a grim smile, more wolfish than vampiric now.
He threw Morvakar to the ground, his body hitting the stone floor with a wet thud. The sorcerer groaned, curling in on himself as Damien towered above him.
"What did you do to her?" Damien demanded.
"Nothing!" Morvakar gasped, spitting the word. He rolled slightly, only to be pinned again by the sharp, unforgiving heel of Damien’s boot, right on the foot Luna had skewered.
Morvakar screamed, an undignified, reedy sound that echoed off the vaulted ceiling.
"I made her for you!" he cried.
<subt>free\we\bnov(e)(l)</subt>
"And why, pray tell, did you decide to be so generous, Morvakar? I don’t even know you. You were banished before I was born. You’re not even a blip on my royal radar."
Morvakar’s breath came in shallow bursts, sweat dotting his temples. "She is your poison."
Damien stepped back as if struck, his hand twitching.
<subt></subt>
The idea unsettled something in him. Luna—his fire, his storm, his reason was no poison.
Morvakar used the silence to push himself upright. He gestured limply to Kyllian, who still slumbered peacefully on the couch, a drool stain forming on the pillow beneath his face.
"The wolf was... is... an inconvenience," Morvakar muttered.
"My poison?"
"Do you know why I was banished?"
Damien snorted. "Yes. You were creating abominations. Twisting nature, defying the goddess.
Morvakar let out a breathless, bitterugh. "Ah. The official version. So neat. So royal. I was loyal to the throne. I gave everything. My mind. My time. My soul. I bled magic dry so your father could sit on golden chairs and pretend they ruled more than their own egos. And the one time I tried to do something for my family... the one time I stepped away from the pce to be a father... your father ripped my son from my arms and cast me out like filth."
"So this is your revenge?" He shook his head with a humorless chuckle. "I must say, it’s a stupid n."
Morvakar’s lips curled upward, but there was no mirth. "Not revenge. Redemption. You all look at me like I’m mad. But madness is just grief with nowhere to go. You have a choice, Your Highness. Will you choose your mate... or your life? It’s simple."