CHAPTER 6: THE POLITICS OF LOVE
1992 Words
Five Years Ago.
I had left the council meeting with the hope of meeting up with Clay. I find myself drawn towards him after that exchange with the elders. He was in a hurry, and I thought to myself, “Such a warrior! He wants the beast dead.”
It was nighttime in Silvercrest when Clay slipped through the poorly lit streets, careful to avoid the torchlit paths. The stone walls knew his footsteps too well; every guard knew his face. This meeting could not be witnessed, not now, not when the council had already questioned his restraint, his judgment, his right to rule.
I watched as he entered Selene’s chambers.
Selene’s chambers were dimly lit, a single lamp glowing like a watchful eye. She stood near the window when he entered, pale moonlight tracing the curve of her shoulders, her hair loose as if she had never intended to sleep. She did not look surprised to see him.
“You came,” she said softly, turning.
"You are not with your friend tonight," he smiled.
"Hmm," she nodded, "She needed some space."
Clay closed the door behind him. “I needed to speak with you.”
Her lips curved faintly. “Don't you? The night grows heavy.”
He ignored the remark and stepped closer. “I need your help.”
Selene studied him, her gaze slow and deliberate. “That depends on what kind of help.”
Clay exhaled sharply, frustration tightening his jaw. “Elder Torin is the loudest voice standing against me. If he sways the council, the title will slip through my hands.”
“And you think I can sway him?” she asked, though her eyes already glinted with knowing.
Clay hesitated. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable. Finally, he said it.
“You’ve been close to him.”
Selene’s smile faded, replaced by something sharper. “Careful, Clay.”
“You sleep in his council chambers more often than you should,” he continued, anger seeping through his restraint. “And men like Torin don’t give favour freely.”
Her eyes darkened. “Is that what you think of me?”
“You know what I think,” Clay snapped. “You’ve always known how to use your beauty. Don’t pretend otherwise.”
The words hung between them like a slap.
For a moment, Selene said nothing. Then she laughed softly, a sound that carried no warmth. “So that’s it. You come here under the cover of darkness, accuse me of spreading my legs for an elder… and still expect me to help you?”
Clay’s fists clenched. “If you’ve already done it, then at least make it count.”
The silence that followed was dangerous.
Selene stepped closer, her voice dropping. “You forget yourself. I lost a husband. I lost a pack. Everything I have here, I rebuilt with obedience and patience. And yes, men listen to me. But not because I kneel for them.”
Clay met her gaze, unyielding. “Then prove it.”
She searched his face, reading the desperation he tried to hide. “You’re afraid,” she said quietly.
Clay said nothing.
“If you don’t become Alpha,” Selene continued, “you lose control. You lose Silvercrest. And you lose her.”
His silence was answer enough.
Selene reached out, placing a hand against his chest, right over his racing heart. “You should have come to me sooner,” she murmured.
Clay stiffened but didn’t pull away. “Will you speak to him?”
Her fingers curled lightly into his tunic. “Torin listens when I speak,” she said. “He trusts me.”
“Then use that trust,” Clay said. “Tell him I’m the only choice that will keep this pack from tearing itself apart.”
Selene tilted her head. “And what do I get in return?”
Clay looked at her then, truly looked. “Protection,” he said. “A place at my side when this is over.”
Her eyes softened, just enough to look sincere. “You promise a lot.”
“I promise survival.”
Selene stepped back, breaking the contact. “Very well,” she said. “I’ll speak to Elder Torin.”
Relief flickered across Clay’s face.
“But understand this,” she added, her tone turning cold. “Power always demands payment.”
Clay nodded once. “I’m ready to pay.”
Selene smiled again, slow and unreadable. As Clay turned to leave, she watched him go, her fingers tightening at her side.
Behind her calm expression, something dark stirred.
Because Clay believed he had just secured his future.
But Selene had just secured her hold on it.
After Clay left Selene’s chambers, he knew he would need to change the shape of his life, whether he wanted to or not.
I was not happy with what I heard as I rushed down to my chambers. “Why didn’t he come to me for help? What has Selene got that I do not have?”
So many questions crossed my mind, but I had to remind myself that I am royalty and do not need any of this.
My chambers lay on the western side of the keep, closer to the old gardens where moonflowers bloomed only at night. Soft light spilt from beneath her door, and the faint scent of crushed herbs and ink drifted into the hall. Clay paused, steadying his breath. This was not a council meeting. This was not a battle plan.
This was the one fight he had no armour for.
He knocked once.
“Come in,” my voice answered, calm, unaware. I was expecting him, and I also tried not to show any form of sadness at what I had just witnessed.
Clay opened the door and stepped inside. I looked up from the table where I had been sorting scrolls, acting surprised when I saw him. I set the parchments aside slowly.
“You shouldn’t be here this late,” I said.
“I know,” Clay replied. “But I couldn’t wait.”
I studied him, my gaze searching. “Something’s wrong.”
“Everything is,” he said quietly.
I crossed the room and stood a careful distance away. “Then speak.”
Clay held my gaze, and for once, the words did not come easily. He was a man used to commands, to decisive strikes, to victories claimed through strength. This required something else.
“I want you to marry me,” he said.
The words fell heavy in the space between them.
I did not laugh. I did not gasp. Even though I find it funny, the way it came out of his lips. I simply closed my eyes for a brief moment, as if bracing myself against a truth I had long suspected would arrive this way.
“No,” I said softly.
Clay’s jaw tightened. “Hear me first.”
“I have heard enough,” I replied, opening her eyes. “You don’t love me.”
“I never said I did,” Clay replied.
“That is precisely the problem.” My voice was steady, but my hands curled at my sides. “Your heart belongs to war, Clay. To duty. To survival. You don’t know how to love, and you don’t want to learn.”
He took a step closer. “You’re wrong.”
I shook my head. “I’ve watched you. You lead with discipline, not tenderness. Even when you look at me, I see calculations. Not longing.”
The words cut deeper than any blade.
“You think I don’t know that?” Clay snapped, frustration breaking through. “You think I don’t wake every day aware that something in me is missing?”
I looked away. “Then why drag me into it?”
“Because Silvercrest needs you,” he said. “And because I need you.”
“For what?” I asked. “A title? A symbol?”
“For balance,” Clay replied. “For strength I don’t have.”
I turned back to him, pain flickering in my eyes. “You want a Luna, not a wife.”
“I want both,” he said. “Even if I don’t know how to be the second yet.”
I laughed quietly, without humour. “You cannot build a marriage on promises of becoming someone else.”
Clay stepped closer again, his voice dropping. “I was not built to love,” he admitted. “I was formed to protect. To fight. To endure. That is the heart I was given.”
I met his gaze, unflinching. “And you think I can change that?”
“I think you can teach me,” he said. “If anyone can.”
Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken truths. My breath wavered.
“You would always choose the pack over me,” I said. “Every time.”
“Yes,” Clay answered without hesitation.
The honesty stunned me.
“And you say that as if it comforts me,” I whispered.
“It should,” he replied. “Because I would expect you to do the same.”
I turned away, pressing my palms against the table. “This isn’t love, Clay. This is strategy.”
“Then let it start there,” he said. “Love can grow. Stability cannot wait.”
I closed her eyes. Memories flickered through my mind: the whispers, the visions, the elders calling her Luna, the sense that Silvercrest was standing on the edge of something vast and terrible.
“You speak as if this decision has already been made,” I said.
“In many ways, it has,” Clay replied. “The council is divided. I need your presence to solidify my claim.”
My shoulders stiffened. “So this is about power.”
“It’s about survival,” he insisted. “Without unity, Silvercrest will fracture.”
I turned to face him fully now. “And what of the council? They will not accept this easily.”
Clay’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ve set things in motion.”
My eyes narrowed. “What kind of things?”
“Persuasion,” he said carefully.
I studied him, sensing the evasion. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“I don’t have the luxury of safety,” he replied. “Not anymore.”
I searched his face, seeing the strain etched deep beneath his composure. For the first time, I saw not the warrior or the future Alpha, but a man standing at the edge of his own limits.
“If I say yes,” I said slowly, “I will not be your shield. I will not soften your cruelty or excuse your silence.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Clay replied. “I need you to stand beside me, not in front of me.”
“And if I refuse?”
He held my gaze, voice low and raw. “Then Silvercrest loses its chance at balance. And I lose the only person who sees me clearly.”
The admission hung between us, fragile and exposed.
I swallowed, my heart aching with the weight of what he was asking. This was not romance. It was not tenderness. It was two flawed souls standing at the edge of a storm, choosing whether to face it together.
“I will think on it,” I said finally.
Clay nodded once. “That’s all I ask.”
As he turned to leave, I called after him.
“Clay.”
He paused.
“If I agree,” I said, my voice steady but soft, “it will not be because you prevailed. It will be because I chose this path.”
“Okay,” he replied.
“Now go kill that beast,” I ordered.
- Writer
