Chapter 18: Into the Lion’s Throat
1175 Words
The plan was madness.
Infiltrate the palace again—this time not for sabotage, but for confrontation. A direct strike through the enemy’s pride-swollen front gates.
Kael stood before the war circle, the Ashbone burial soil still under his nails, Luna at his side, black-cloaked and unspeaking.
The Black Wolves were massing in the lower valley.
The Queen’s coronation would be in three days.
It was the perfect moment to strike.
Because everyone expected them to hide.
Not walk straight into the lion’s throat.
“We split into three,” Kael announced. One group draws the Black Wolves west. One rides east to torch the food supply.”
He paused.
“I went into the palace.”
Murmurs broke through the crowd.
“You’ll never get out,” one of the older alphas growled.
Kael’s mouth tightened. “Then I won’t have to.”
Silence again.
Luna didn’t speak.
She only placed a hand on his chest, over the new scar above his heart.
“I’m coming with you,” she said.
Kael looked at her. “No.”
She didn’t blink. “Yes.”
“You’ll slow me down.”
“Then you’ll have to carry me.”
He stared at her.
And then nodded.
They left at night.
Only the two of them.
No horses. No backup. No exit strategy.
Just the path through the Briarwoods, the forgotten hunter trails, and their bond—pulsing, hot and thick between their chests.
Luna could feel Kael’s heart pounding before he ever touched her.
It rained as they reached the palace wall.
Not a storm.
Just that light, needling drizzle that soaked through every seam, turned the stones slick, and blurred the scent trails.
Perfect.
Kael scaled the wall first.
Luna followed, faster.
They landed in the Queen’s rose garden—abandoned since the coup, overgrown and tangled. Black petals twisted around silver vines, some still blooming with blood-sap thorns.
“I hate this place,” Luna muttered.
“You should. She watered it with wolf’s blood.”
Inside the palace, everything was too quiet.
No torches.
No guards.
No scent of life.
Kael paused. “She knows.”
“She always knows.”
“We move fast.”
“No,” Luna whispered. “We move softly.”
They didn’t take the central staircases.
They slid through hidden servant paths, crawlspaces behind the tapestries, abandoned priest's chambers that still smelled of sacrifice.
They moved like breath.
Like ghosts.
Luna’s blades stayed sheathed.
Kael’s fists stayed loose.
They weren’t here to kill.
Not yet.
The throne room was guarded—two sentinels cloaked in obsidian armor, swords dipped in silver. Their breath smoked in the air despite the warmth.
Kael and Luna didn’t approach.
They waited.
Listened.
And took the vent beneath the dais.
It dropped into the old sanctuary beneath the hall—a place Luna had never seen, but Kael remembered from childhood.
They emerged in the darkness.
But not silence.
“Kael.”
The Queen’s voice echoed before the light came.
He stepped forward, dragging Luna behind him, not because he didn’t trust her, but because he knew what his mother was capable of.
“I didn’t think you’d come crawling again,” she said, stepping into view.
She wore white.
Not regal white.
Burial white.
Moon-stitched silk. Hair down. Crown gone.
But power? It radiated off her like heat.
Kael squared his shoulders. “End it.”
The Queen smiled. “So impatient. And here I thought your new little mark might teach you restraint.”
Luna stepped forward. “I’ve got plenty of restraint. ""I’m not slicing your throat yet, am I?”
The Queen’s smile only grew. “You brought her to die with you. How poetic.”
“We came to offer a choice,” Kael said.
The Queen raised a brow. “Do tell.”
Kael pulled a scroll from his belt. Luna hadn’t seen it before.
Ancient paper.
Marked with the bloodline crest.
“I renounce my right to the throne,” he said. Formally. Publicly. Bindingly.”
Luna stiffened.
He hadn’t told her.
The Queen blinked.
“And in return?” she asked.
“You disband the Black Wolves. You abandon the throne. You vanish into the mountains like the old witches you serve.”
The Queen laughed.
Laughed like she hadn’t in years.
“Oh, Kael. You still think this is about the throne?”
She stepped closer.
“It was never about power. It was about you.”
Luna moved.
Fast.
Too fast for Kael to stop her.
She slammed her blade into the Queen’s shoulder.
Only—
The Queen vanished.
A mirage.
The real Queen stepped from behind the dais, eyes glowing.
“You always move too fast, hunter.”
The spell hit them like frostbite.
Kael’s limbs locked.
Luna’s knees buckled.
The room shifted—pillars bending, floor disappearing.
And then they were in a vision again.
A mirror dream.
Except this one wasn’t Luna’s.
It was Kael’s.
And they were back in the Bone Tree’s shadow.
Only this time—
Kael knelt in chains.
Blood is dripping from his wrists.
The Queen stood over him, blade drawn.
Luna tried to move, but her feet wouldn’t work.
She screamed—but no sound came.
The Queen knelt beside Kael.
“You’ll never be free,” she whispered. “Because you were born of me.”
She raised the blade.
Kael didn’t flinch.
Luna did.
And the world cracked.
She woke gasping.
Kael beside her—sweating, shaking, his hands fisting her cloak.
They were still in the sanctuary.
But the Queen was gone.
For now.
Kael stood slowly.
“I saw it,” he rasped. “She’ll kill me in front of the Bone Tree. She’s always known.”
“She doesn’t control fate.”
“She controls blood.”
“She doesn’t control us.”
Luna stepped into him.
Wrapped her arms around his waist.
Pressed her cheek to his chest.
He didn’t speak again.
Just held her.
They fled before dawn.
Not as victors.
Not as rulers.
But as something more dangerous.
Survivors.
Outside the palace, rain turned to mist.
Kael paused beneath the stone arch.
He looked back once.
Luna caught his eye.
“Burn it?” she asked.
He nodded.
And she dropped the oil flask.
Flames rose behind them—hungry, holy, wild.
The palace would not die today.
But it would remember.
Three miles out, Kael collapsed.
Too much magic. Too much memory.
Luna dragged him behind the fallen stone wall and ripped open his shirt.
His pulse thundered.
His mark glowed.
His body burned.
Again.
But this time—
He kissed her first.
Not out of desperation.
But because she was the only real thing left.
They didn’t speak as she undressed.
Didn’t rush.
She sank into him slowly, deeply, the rhythm like a heartbeat.
He didn’t thrust hard.
He didn’t lose control.
He watched her.
Like worship.
And when they both came, it wasn’t screaming.
It was a sigh.
Like finally coming home.
- Writer
