Chapter 7: Is she the one?
1342 Words
I forced my eyes open, the bright light of the royal medical wing cut into my vision like a blade.
I didn't flinch or make a move to suggest it affected me.
A weak king was a dead king, and the three physicians hovering over my bed were owned by the crown, but loyal to the highest bidder.
"His heart rate is stabilizing," one whispered, his fingers trembling as he adjusted a tube filled with a clear fluid.
My lungs burned with every breath, and beneath my skin, I could feel the silver-laced suppressants the High Council had been slipping into my wine for years were doing their job.
They wanted me to be manageable, but two nights ago in the woods, the ancient lion spirit in my blood had fought back against it, boiling my veins and cooking my skin from the inside out.
My body was now a war zone pushing the silver out slowly.
The heavy oak doors of the chamber swung open, and I could hear the physicians immediately scrambling backward, bowing so low their noses nearly touched the stone floor.
Elder Corin walked in, his long velvet robes sweeping the floor.
The Head of the High Council looked like a grandfather.
He carried a silver tray with a fresh bowl of broth, and there was worry on his face.
"Leave us," Corin commanded the doctors. Once the door clicked shut, he walked over to my bedside, his eyes scanning the faint trail of smoke still rising from my collarbone.
"Your Majesty, we were told you collapsed during a routine border patrol. The realm cannot afford for its protector to be so...fragile."
"I am awake, Corin," I said. My voice was low, but it carried enough weight to make his smile falter for a fraction of a second.
"Get to the point."
Corin set the tray down with a soft rattle.
"The point, Silas, is that the Council is deeply concerned. A hybrid's power is a magnificent thing, but clearly, your body is rejecting its own nature. The stress of managing the northern border treaties while your blood is in such chaos... it is too much for one man."
“You will address me with my title” I said, not looking at him.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he replied.
He reached into his sleeve, pulling out a rolled parchment stamped with the Council’s wax seal.
He laid it flat on the table beside my bed.
"What is that?" I asked.
"A temporary transition of military authority," Corin said smoothly, his tone dripping with fake warmth.
"Just until your fever breaks. If you sign this, the Council will take over the security details for the Silver-Oak pack and the southern borders. It will allow you to rest. To heal."
He was testing me.
He wanted to see if the poison had finally broken my spine.
If I signed that paper, my army would belong to the men who were trying to kill me.
"The Silver-Oak treaty was set to be finalized today," I said, my voice completely flat, devoid of the anger in my chest.
"Why the sudden urgency to take it from my hands?"
"The Silver-Oak pack has proven to be unstable," Corin replied, leaning in a little closer.
"A security breach occurred on their lands last night. A female was found marked by a rogue, Captain Vance has postponed the treaty and brought the suspects here for a tribunal. If you are unfit to govern the trial, the Council must step in."
"A rogue mark," I repeated softly.
Memories flooded my mind, I remembered being in the woods, the rogues that tried to attack me. Someone else was there, someone that overrode all my senses..she smelt like silver.
‘Was she the one the Council has in their custody?’ I thought to myself.
"Yes," Corin sighed, shaking his head.
"A disgusting affair. The girl is an orphan, and a traitor. The Council intends to execute her by nightfall to ensure no rogue networks have infiltrated our borders. It is a minor matter, my King. Sign the decree, and we will handle the blood work."
I stared at him, and I tried not to let the golden hue show in my eyes.
I simply slid my legs out from under the linen sheet and stood up.
The movement sent a wave of white-hot agony through my chest, my muscles were screaming as the silver suppressants fought my movement.
I didn't let my posture bend. I stood at my full height, towering over the Elder and looking down at his thinning hair.
"You have spent thirty years on my Council, Corin," I said, my voice echoing off the stone walls "And yet, you still mistake my patience for weakness."
Corin stepped back, his eyes darting to my hands, looking for a tremor. He found none.
"I am only thinking of your health"
"You are thinking of my crown," I interrupted smoothly.
"If I wanted the Council to manage my borders, I would have died ten years ago when your predecessors poisoned my father. The Silver-Oak pack is under my jurisdiction and the trial will be handled by me."
"The doors to the throne room are already closed,"
Corin countered, his voice losing its gentle edge, a hint of sharp arrogance bleeding through.
"The suspects are chained and all the judges are seated. You can barely draw a full breath, Your Majesty. If you walk into that room and stumble, the northern Alphas will see a dying King. Is that the image you want to project?"
"I don't stumble, and I decide what goes on in my palace" I said.
I picked up the parchment from the table, not breaking eye contact with him for a single second.
With a slow, deliberate movement, I held it over the candle burning on the nightstand.
The edges of the paper caught fire instantly, the flames' reflection dancing in the black irises of my eyes.
I dropped the burning paper onto the silver tray, watching it turn to ash.
"Tell the judges to begin the testimonies," I commanded. "I will be there shortly."
Corin’s face turned an ugly, mottled red, his fists clenched at his sides, but he knew better than to challenge his King.
He gave a stiff, resentful bow and turned on his heel, slamming the heavy doors behind him.
The moment he was gone, I let out a slow, heavy breath, my hand gripping the edge of the bed to stabilize myself. The air in the room felt suffocating.
I took a deep, grounding breath to clear the smoke from my lungs and then, everything inside me stopped.
The heavy scent of medicinal herbs and copper was gone.
There was another smell, it was the smell of wild lilies, crushed silver mint, and raw magic.
“She’s here” I said,
My lion reawakened and the dull ache in my blood instantly replaced by a surging, violent heat.
She wasn't at the borders, she was inside my fortress and chained like an animal, waiting for a sentence from the very men who wanted me dead.
The weakness in my limbs vanished, swallowed whole by the sudden, overwhelming pull in my chest.
I put on my black royal armor.
The metal plates were heavy, but as I strapped them over my burning skin, they felt like they belonged on my body.
I fastened the dark leather cloak around my shoulders.
I left the medical wing and followed the scent.
It grew thicker, sweeter, and more frantic with every step I took, drawing me down the grand hallway toward the heart of the palace.
I stopped right outside the massive gold double doors of the Grand Throne Room.
I placed my palm against the heavy gold door.
"Your Majesty," a young guard at the entrance whispered, his face completely pale, his knees visibly shaking.
"Elder Corin said... he said you were unfit to stand. You shouldn't be out of bed."
I didn't look at him. "Open the doors," I said.
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