<h4>Chapter 236: Just Give Me Until Morning</h4>


    "All I’m saying," Richard tried again, this time speaking slowly, "is that I will go to the King’s castle and find out what is going on. Just give me until morning."


    The lords exchanged nces, one by one nodding in turn. Even Mason, after a long pause, gave a stiff, begrudging dip of the head.


    Richard bowed his head in silent prayer.


    This was not good.


    This wasn’t good at all.


    ******


    If Thessa agreed to Morvakar’s n, and the child died, the order she had pledged herself to would never forgive her.


    Not in a hundred years. To lose him was to lose the fragile thread holding together centuries of hope. And in Blood City, hope was worth more than gold, more than blood, more than life itself.


    But the queen merely sat there, unmoving, her posture regal but her mind a whirlwind.


    Luna’s gaze was locked on some far-off point beyond the walls, her thoughts tangled. Morvakar’s words swirled in her mind, curling into the cracks of her resolve.


    "First, Damien is dying?" Luna asked atst. She hated how brittle she sounded — a queen should not let her voice waver.


    "We always knew he was," Morvakar replied. "But now that the pain of losing you has hit full st, the poison is more potent. It is eating him faster, without your bond to anchor him." His eyes flickered, almost apologetic. "So yes... he is dying."


    Luna exhaled slowly, the sound more like a sigh than she intended, willing herself to be strong. She wanted to be in his arms right now, curled against that familiar body that felt like home. She wanted to press her lips to the ce where his jaw met his neck, where the scent of him was strongest, and tell him she was okay. That their child was going to make it. That the world could burn if it meant the three of them stayed whole.


    "If Damien dies," she murmured, more to herself than to them, "Gabriel takes the throne." She paused, fingers curling against the armrest of her chair as though gripping the fate of the realm itself. "My son is a bloodthirsty true-born... Gabriel takes the throne." She said it again, slower, heavier, tasting the bitterness of the words. Then she sighed.


    "Your Highness, you really cannot be thinking about this," Thessa cut in sharply. She stepped forward, her eyes locked on Luna’s. "The heir is too young for what Morvakar is proposing. Too young to be... tortured...If you do this, you gamble not just with his life, but with everything we have fought for."


    Luna met Thessa’s gaze. There was steel there — but beneath it, a flicker of fear. Fear for the boy.


    And Luna, though her heart ached and her body longed for her king, could not ignore the truth in Thessa’s voice.


    Of course Luna knew it. She knew — gods, she knew — that her child would be tortured. The very thought of it wed at her insides, leaving a cold, jagged pit in her stomach. She imagined his cries, the way his little hands would reach for her, confused and frightened, not understanding why his mother wasn’t there to stop it. Her ws ached to tear through anyone who would harm him. But what other choice was there?


    If she did nothing, the council would see him as a threat — too dangerous, too wild — and they would end him before he even learned to speak. This way, at least, he would survive. He would have a chance to fight, to grow, to take the throne that was his birthright. It was cruel. It was wrong. But sometimes, Luna thought bitterly, cruelty was the only currency the throne understood.


    "The decision is up to you, Luna. The king isn’t here. It’s just you," Morvakar said quietly. His gaze was steady, unblinking, but there was respect in it. "Weigh what is best for your child, your husband, and yourself before you think about the people." He paused, then nced in Thessa’s direction, as if daring her to challenge him further.


    "I think everything is woven together," Luna sighed. "There is no ’child’ without the people. There is no ’people’ without the crown. And there is no crown without my husband." Thest words caught in her throat, her heart stuttering at the thought of Damien. She could still feel the ghost of his touch, even now.


    The chamber held its breath.


    After a few minutes of silence, Luna straightened her spine and squared her shoulders, the decision settling into her bones. "Do it," she said atst. The two words seemed to echo against the stone walls, binding themselves to her.


    "Your Highness!" Thessa’s voice cracked, a sharp burst of disbelief. She stepped forward as though she could physically block the decision from being carried out. "You cannot—"


    "Is there a way you can get me into werewolf territory before you begin?" Luna cut her off. "I will not be able to watch or stand it...".


    "Your Highness, I beg you," Thessa’s tone shifted to desperation."Please reconsider this. Once it is done, there is no undoing it."


    Luna turned her head slowly toward Thessa, her eyes glinting with sorrow. "The point of protecting the heir is for him to take the throne," she said evenly, though her voice trembled on the inside. "Will he, if he grows up like this?" Her gaze softened, just barely. "Better that he suffers now."


    She thought of Damien again, of what he would say if he were here. He would roar at her, call her reckless, pull her into his arms and kiss her until she forgot her own name, until she yielded to his will. He would tell her no one touched what was his.


    But Damien wasn’t here. And so, she had to be him and herself all at once.


    "There is... there is a chance this can be done when he is older. Stronger," Thessa said, almost hopeful. It was the tone of someone grasping at threads, desperate for any alternative that didn’t involve pain. Her eyes searched Luna’s face, pleading for her to seize on this escape route.