Chapter Twelve: The Queen Must Fall
556 Words
The council chamber is colder than usual.
Not by temperature—but intent.
Seven men and women in fine furs and sharper expressions sit behind a curved table of dark ironwood. The air is rich with power, restraint, and quiet judgment.
Kael stands beside me—cloaked in control, unreadable.
But I can feel the tension rolling off him in waves.
Like a wolf barely leashed.
“We appreciate your presence, Luna,” says Elder Halric, his voice soft and poisonous. “We know your condition has not fully stabilized.”
“I’m not sick,” I reply evenly.
“No,” he says with a tight smile. “But you are… compromised.”
Kael growls low beside me.
“Enough,” says another. Elder Mara, silver-haired and sharp-eyed. “We are not here to argue semantics. We are here to discuss the survival of this pack—and the threat your union poses to it.”
“Threat?” Kael snaps. “She’s my mate.”
“Exactly,” Halric says. “And she is a liability. Already nearly assassinated. Already used as leverage against your decisions. Your enemies see her as your soft spot. So do we.”
I clench my fists. “I’m not his leash. I’m his Luna.”
“You are a disruption to decades of balance,” Mara says coolly. “The Eastern Alpha has requested your removal.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
Halric leans forward. “It means step down. Deny the bond publicly. Leave. Quietly.”
“And if I don’t?”
“War,” says Mara. “You may survive it. He may. The pack won’t.”
Silence.
Kael doesn’t speak.
And that’s when I understand—
They expected this.
They planned for it.
Every assassination attempt, every whisper, every political strike… not from outsiders.
From within.
The council doesn’t want to protect Kael’s reign. They want to control it.
They want a Luna they can shape.
And I’m not her.
So I smile.
Soft. Sweet. Deceptive.
“I understand,” I say. “You’re protecting your legacy. Your safety.”
Mara inclines her head.
“But what if I told you,” I add softly, “that I have the names of every council member who’s received Eastern silver in the last six months?”
Halric stills.
I step forward.
“Don’t look so surprised. Dorian’s not the only one who talks. Turns out traitors like to brag. Especially in cellars full of wine.”
“You’re bluffing,” Halric hisses.
Kael turns to me, eyes wide.
I meet his gaze. Then look back to the council.
“I don’t want war,” I say. “But I won’t be your puppet. I won’t be your scapegoat. And if one more blade comes for my back, I’ll start naming names.”
I turn, heels echoing on the floor.
“And if any of you dare to try me… just remember this—”
I pause at the door, glancing over my shoulder.
“I wasn’t born to be tamed. I was born to rule.”
Kael follows me out, silent until we’re alone in the corridor.
Then he grabs my hand, breathless. “Tell me you weren’t bluffing.”
I just smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
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- Writer
