Chapter five
1249 Words
The royal banquet hall glittered with silver light and hidden hostility.
Music drifted softly through the massive chamber while servants moved carefully between rows of noble tables carrying crystal glasses and expensive wine. Every Alpha territory invited to Noctara sat beneath the banners of their respective packs, but despite the elegance surrounding the room, tension poisoned the atmosphere.
Nobody trusted anyone here.
Not anymore.
Kael stood near the head of the royal table dressed entirely in black formal combat attire trimmed with silver. Her dark hair brushed the collar of her jacket while the Moon Crest rested sharply against her chest.
Cold.
Untouchable.
Exactly what the kingdom expected from its future ruler.
Only Kael knew how much effort it took to maintain that illusion tonight.
Ever since Ronan arrived, her body refused to feel normal.
The awareness never disappeared.
Even now, surrounded by hundreds of people, she could still sense him somewhere inside the hall.
Like her instincts refused to stop tracking him.
Kael hated it.
“You look irritated.”
Darius appeared beside her carrying two glasses.
Kael did not take either one.
“I am surrounded by politicians pretending they are not waiting for me to fail. Why would I look relaxed?”
“That is the most honest thing you have said all week.”
Kael ignored him.
Across the banquet hall, several Alpha leaders sat watching her carefully.
Not openly disrespectful.
That would be suicide.
But subtle enough.
Whispers.
Long stares.
Quiet conversations ending the moment she looked their way.
They smelled weakness.
Or at least the possibility of it.
And in Varelis, weakness spread through politics faster than blood.
“The Northern territories are growing louder,” Darius said quietly. “They believe moving the Moon Rite earlier means the Council doubts you.”
Kael’s jaw tightened slightly.
“They can challenge me directly if they are feeling brave.”
“That is exactly what they want.”
Before she could respond, the massive banquet doors opened again.
Silence spread instantly through the hall.
Ronan Vale entered beside two Shadowfang warriors dressed in dark combat armor.
The room changed the moment he stepped inside.
Fear did that.
Attention followed him naturally as he moved through the chamber with calm controlled confidence. He did not acknowledge anyone immediately.
Not the nobles.
Not the Council.
Not even the staring Alphas.
His gaze found Kael almost instantly.
And once again, pain crashed through her chest.
Sharp.
Violent.
Kael’s fingers tightened behind her back before anyone noticed.
Ronan slowed slightly after seeing her reaction.
His eyes darkened with interest.
Not sympathy.
Interest.
Like he was studying a dangerous animal.
Kael forced herself not to react further.
She refused to let him see weakness.
Especially him.
Elder Malachai stepped forward from the royal table.
“Alpha Vale,” he greeted calmly. “Welcome.”
Ronan barely looked at him.
His attention remained fixed on Kael.
“The capital is beautiful,” Ronan said evenly. “Shame about the tension.”
Nobody answered immediately.
Because everyone heard the insult hidden inside the words.
The capital is unstable.
The throne is unstable.
Kael stepped forward before the silence stretched too long.
“Shadowfang territory must be boring if political dinners excite you this much.”
Several nobles immediately looked uncomfortable.
Ronan’s mouth curved slightly.
Not a smile.
Something sharper.
“On the contrary,” he replied calmly. “I enjoy watching powerful people struggle to hide weakness.”
The words hit harder than they should have.
Kael’s chest tightened instantly.
Damn him.
He was provoking her deliberately.
Testing reactions.
Watching too carefully.
And somehow that irritated her more than direct hostility would have.
The dinner officially began moments later, but Kael barely tasted anything placed before her.
Conversation moved around the hall carefully.
Pack alliances.
Border disputes.
Trade routes.
Military movement.
Yet beneath every discussion, one question lingered silently in the room.
Can the heir still control the kingdom?
Kael felt it in every stare.
Every pause.
Every careful glance.
Then Alpha Magnus of the Eastern territories leaned back in his chair and spoke loudly enough for nearby tables to hear.
“The Sacred Moon Rite approaches quickly.”
Several conversations quieted immediately.
Kael looked toward him calmly.
Magnus smiled politely.
Too politely.
“The kingdom looks forward to witnessing the future ruler prove worthy before the Moon Goddess.”
There it was.
Not technically disrespectful.
But dangerous.
Because everyone understood the meaning beneath the words.
Prove worthy.
Kael’s expression remained cold.
“Do the Eastern territories suddenly doubt sacred law?”
“Of course not,” Magnus answered smoothly. “But recent events have created concern.”
The servant’s death.
The assassination attempt.
The rumors spreading through the territories.
Kael saw exactly where this conversation was heading.
Ronan watched silently from across the table.
Interested.
Waiting.
Magnus continued carefully.
“A ruler’s emotional stability affects the entire kingdom.”
Kael slowly set her glass down.
“You seem unusually invested in my emotional condition.”
The Alpha smiled again.
“A concerned citizen only.”
Liar.
Kael could smell satisfaction beneath his scent.
He wanted a reaction.
They all did.
Because if the future ruler lost control publicly before the Moon Rite, political chaos would follow immediately.
Ronan finally spoke then.
Low.
Calm.
Dangerous.
“I expected the future king of Varelis to intimidate stronger men than Magnus.”
The entire table went still.
Kael looked toward him sharply.
He leaned back lazily in his chair, dark eyes fixed directly on her.
Provoking her again.
Deliberately.
“You seem disappointed,” Kael replied coldly.
“I am curious.”
“About what?”
Ronan held her gaze for several long seconds.
“Whether the rumors about you are true.”
Silence crashed through the banquet hall.
Even the musicians stopped playing.
Kael felt anger flash beneath her skin instantly.
Not because of the insult.
Because her body betrayed her again.
Pain exploded beneath the Moon Mark without warning.
Her breath nearly caught.
The room tilted slightly.
No.
Not now.
Kael forced herself upright as heat spread violently through her chest.
Her pulse pounded harder.
The pain felt different tonight.
Less physical.
More unstable.
Like something inside her body was fighting to surface.
Ronan noticed immediately.
Of course he did.
His expression sharpened instantly.
Not mockery this time.
Focus.
Kael realized with sudden horror that her hands were beginning to shake beneath the table.
Nobody else had noticed yet.
But they would.
And if they did—
She stood abruptly.
The movement startled several nobles.
“I have lost my appetite,” Kael said coldly.
Magnus looked smug.
Ronan looked suspicious.
Malachai looked worried.
Kael hated all of them in that moment.
Without waiting for permission, she turned and walked from the banquet hall.
Every instinct screamed at her to move faster.
The pain worsened with every step through the palace corridors.
Her breathing became uneven.
Something felt wrong beneath her skin again.
Alive.
Watching.
The female voice from before remained silent, but Kael could feel its presence now.
Waiting.
By the time she reached her cham
bers, panic had started mixing with anger inside her chest.
She slammed the doors shut behind her and grabbed the edge of the nearest table hard enough to c***k wood.
“What is happening to me?”
Silence answered.
Kael looked down finally.
Then froze.
Dark red blood stained both of her palms.
Fresh.
Wet.
But there was no wound anywhere on her hands.
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