<h4>Chapter 237: Help My Son</h4>


    Luna, however, was still and unblinking. "Will the council let him live that long?" she asked quietly.


    Thessa’s lips parted as if to protest, but no sound came. She shut her mouth again, her jaw tightening in defeat. There was noeback, no assurance she could offer. The truth was as merciless as Luna’s tone.


    Morvakar, who had been silently watching the exchange with his usual unsettling calm, finally spoke. "I will send a message to the Alpha King tonight toe pick you up," he said, as if it were the most practical detail in the world.


    "You will stay here with Morvakar, Thessa," Luna said, turning to her with a finality that brokered no argument. "Give him all the help he needs." Then she shifted her gaze to Morvakar, and the queen’s steel cracked for just a heartbeat. "Please, Father... help my son."


    Thessa’s brows knit together instantly. "Father?" she repeated, the single word brimming with confusion. Her eyes darted between the two of them, searching for some logical exnation. "I don’t understand."


    "Not biologically," Luna said, her lips quirking faintly, though her eyes were still heavy with grief, "but technically he is my father."


    Morvakar’s expression warmed in a way few had ever seen. The sharp man whomanded fear seemed, in that moment, almost tender. He smiled and dropped to one knee in front of her. "I promise with my life to do everything I can for the prince," he said. Then, with the faintest trace of mischief in his eyes, he added, "Because technically, he is my grandson."


    Morvakar rose gracefully, but before straightening fully, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. It was a gesture so unexpectedly gentle that it almost undid her resolve. "You take care of yourself," he murmured. Then his mouth quirked in the faintest smirk. "And for heaven’s sake, get the whistle back from Talon. He almost sted my ears when he was blowing on it. Disoriented me for a full minute."


    Luna chuckled, the sound low and almost musical, though her eyes still carried the weight of too many sleepless nights. "Be careful with my doctor here," she said, tilting her head toward Thessa. "Don’t break her, Morvakar."


    Morvakar, who had been poised and self-assured moments earlier, straightened abruptly. If vampires could blush, he would have been crimson from cor to hairline. "You are overanalyzing things," he said stiffly.


    Luna arched a brow, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Am I? Because if I hadn’t stepped in when I did earlier, who knows what you kids would have been up to?" The teasing lilt in her voice was deliberate — a small rebellion against the choking tension of the past few days.


    Thessa’s hand twitched, her eyes darting from one to the other as if unsure whether to defend herself or keep silent.


    Morvakar narrowed his gaze at Luna, though there was a flicker of amusement in it. "We would have been figuring out how to help the prince," he countered, as though trying to drag the conversation back to safer ground. Without giving her a chance to reply, he took a deliberate step back and changed the subject entirely. "You have a name yet?"


    Luna’s smirk faded. "My husband will name him," she said. Then her tone turned dark, the undercurrent of steel in her voice sending a ripple of unease through the room. "And he sure as hell better live long enough to, because if he doesn’t, I will reach into the deepest parts of the heavens and kill him again."


    With a slow exhale, Luna pushed herself upright, but the motion sent a wince shing across her face. Her hand instinctively went to her belly. Doctor Thessa was instantly at her side, slipping an arm around her waist in support. Luna allowed it, though her spine remained rigid, her queenly pride refusing to bow to weakness.


    *****


    Eryk stood at the main entrance as Lord Lucivar’s dark, elegant silhouette emerged Eryk weed him with a deep, formal bow, though his mind was a restless churn.


    Every security measure had been enacted. The outer gates were sealed. The guards had been dismissed for the entire week. Every maid, every attendant, every possible pair of eyes had been sent away. No one was allowed near the king except for Eryk himself.


    "How is he?" Lucivar asked the moment he stepped into the living area.


    Eryk gave a curt nod toward the inner hallway. "He’s conscious now," he said. "You said you were bringing help."


    "I did," Lucivar replied. Without waiting for further exnation, he moved past Eryk, his long stride eating the distance to the king’s bedroom.


    Damien was already up when Lucivar entered. He was shirtless, muscles taut and coiled as he pulled on his trousers. The tension in his shoulders was almost a physical force, and the faint tremor in his fingers betrayed the toll his condition had taken.


    "Father," Damien said without turning. "Any word about Luna?"


    Lucivar didn’t answer the question. He shut the door behind him, the quiet click sounding like a lock being thrown. "Damien," he began, his tone low but deliberate, "we need to talk."


    Damien turned then, eyes wild with a barely leashed fury. "What I need to do is find my wife," he shot back.


    "Damien! I know about your true mate!"


    There was a heartbeat of silence. Damien’s jaw clenched, and when he spoke, his voice was a deep, guttural growl. "I have one true mate," he said. "And her name is Luna."


    Lucivar stepped forward, his eyes hard. "Are you really going to let yourself die? Are you insane? Look around you." His hand swept around the room. "The queen is missing. The heir’s life is hanging by a thread. Who is going to protect them if you are dead?"


    There was a sh of hurt in Damien’s gaze — the look of a man already bleeding inside. "I was of the opinion that you would, Father," he said, the word Father carrying a sting that was usation.