"Disrespect? What did you do when I was disrespected? What did you do when your son was disrespected? You sat there and let this bunch of old fools control you. And they are still controlling you." The Lords shuffled.
"I hereby sentence Talon to death by morning."<fn1a85> This update is avable on find{n}ovel</fn1a85>
"Your Highness, you do not make the judgement." Lord Richard pushed forward. Damien looked at Richard the way a predator might regard a skittish bird.
"This is my kingdom!" he snapped. "I can pass whatever judgement I deem fit. He touched my woman. He deserves to die."
Luna''s re returned. "You will regret this, Damien. I promise you.".
"Have the queen restrained to the castle. She is not to leave the premises until her ''right hand man'' is dead." Damien could feel the eyes of the council watching him measure every move, and he gave them the theater they craved.
One of the lords moved quickly, melting back into the flow of men to dispatch the orders. The sentence would be carried out; protocol would be observed; the capital would thrum with the news by suppertime. "Kyllian is going to rain hell on you," Luna spat as she felt the first hands closing on her.
"I''d like to see him try," Damien snarled.
Guards moved to haul Luna from the chamber — not roughly, but with the officious hand of servants executing orders. Damien watched her go. When the doors closed, Damien slid back onto his throne and allowed himself a smile that tasted of triumph and anticipation.
Luna had just dered war in front of the lords, and the sound of that deration would travel. He hoped it would reach Isolde and her allies too, and when it did, the ripples would do his dirty work for him. The chessboard had been set; the pawns were moving.
The rest now was up to Kyllian. He hoped to the goddess that Kyllian was ready.
*****
Kyllian stood tall at the heart of the castle courtyard. Hundreds of werewolves filled the courtyard. Every heart was synced, burning with rage for the insult that had been dealt to their princess.
He raised his voice.
"I got word today that our very own Talon—our brother, our warrior—has been sentenced to death in Blood City. And our werewolf princess is being dragged through their mockery of a trial. The vampires have done nothing but spit on us, undermine us, belittle us. Tonight, that ends. So tonight, we march. We will retrieve our own. We will bring Talon back. And we will remind them what happens when they test the blood of wolves."
"For glory!" the warriors thundered back in unison. They surged into trucks, the vehicles rattling with their weight, engines growling.
Kyllian exhaled slowly, the adrenaline thrumming in his veins. Damien''s n—this ruse of a war—was daring, reckless even. He trusted the king, to an extent, but his wolf gnawed at him with doubt. A single misstep and this fake war would be real.
Turning away from thest departing truck, he strode toward the castle garage to retrieve his car. The rumble of the engines faded, leaving the courtyard eerily quiet. He had just reached for the car door when he heard a soft, trembling voice.
"Your highness," Mabel called.
He turned immediately. Mabel stood, her body full and round, her belly carrying the divine weight of the goddess''s vessel. Her hand was braced on her swollen stomach. Her hair tumbled around her flushed face.
Almost ready to pop, he thought, and with every passing day, his fear deepened—for her, for the miracle she carried, for the destiny bound inside her womb.
"Mabel," Kyllian murmured. He moved toward her, instinctively protective. "You shouldn''t be out here in the cold."
"Be careful." Mabel said simply.
"I''ll be fine," Kyllian assured her. He couldn''t afford to let his worry spill over into fear.
"I know."
"You know?" he repeated, suspicious.
Mabel''s lips curved into the faintest smirk, her eyes glinting. "I''m not an idiot, your highness. I have gotten to know you in the short time I have been here. And I know when you are very worried." She stroked her belly absently.
"This war—or whatever charade this is—does not worry you. And also because I know you would never truly go to war with the vampires. Not when Luna is there."
The corner of his mouth twitched despite himself. Gods, she was infuriatingly perceptive. He should have expected nothing less from the woman the goddess herself had chosen as a vessel. "You are right," he admitted reluctantly. "Which is why I don''t want you to be worried. I will be back before the baby is born."
Mabel nodded. She stepped aside with a small bow.
Kyllian turned to get in the car, his hand already on the door handle, when he stopped. The weight of everything unsaid pressed down on him. His shoulders stiffened. Slowly, he turned back to her. "I…" he started to say, but the words caught in his throat.
"Your highness?" she asked softly. There was confusion in her tone.
He scowled lightly. "You know what? First of all, stop calling me that. It sort of makes it difficult to say this next part."
"What should I call you to make it easier for you to talk to me?" she asked softly.
"Kyllian," he said immediately. "Call me Kyllian."
"Okay…Kyllian." She chuckled nervously, tasting the name on her tongue. "Wow…that sounds weird." Her fingers twisted in the edge of her shawl, a small tremor running through her.
"No," Kyllian said. "It sounds just right." He stepped closer.
"I have only loved one woman all my life," Kyllian murmured. His eyes softened. "My entire life," he repeated, his jaw flexing as he searched for words that had nevere easily. "And…I am not even sure that I have stopped loving her. Or if I will ever stop." His throat bobbed as he swallowed.
"What I am trying to say is that I seem to care a lot about you…" He paused. "And I am trying to figure out if this is some weird submission thing with the Moon Goddess you''re carrying, but…" He trailed off, his eyes locked on hers.