Episode Twenty
1104 Words
Part 31: The Weight of the Crown
The silence in the war room was a physical thing. It was a cold, heavy void where Beta Kaelen's furious, loyal energy had just been. The remaining council members were frozen, their faces pale. They had just witnessed the public execution of the pack's second-most-powerful wolf.
Kaelen’s face was a mask of shattered disbelief. The fury, the jealousy, the righteousness—it all drained away, leaving a hollow, gray shock. "Alpha... please," she whispered. It was not a plea of defiance. It was the broken, desperate sound of a soldier who had just had her entire world, her purpose, her identity, ripped away.
Draven’s face was unyielding. He did not look at her. He looked at the two Shadow Guards standing by the door.
"Guards," he commanded, his voice flat. "Escort Kaelen to her quarters. She is to speak to no one. She is to see no one. A guard will be posted on her door until I say otherwise."
The two warriors, wolves Kaelen had probably trained herself, flinched. They looked at their Alpha, then at their Beta, their faces etched with a terrible, conflicting duty. But the Alpha's command was absolute. They stepped forward.
"Kaelen," one said, his voice rough with a respect he couldn't just turn off. "Please."
She didn't fight. She didn't scream. The fight had gone out of her, leaving a chilling, brittle emptiness. Her back went ramrod straight, the last vestige of her warrior's pride. She gave Draven one last, long, unreadable look—a look of such profound, agonizing betrayal it was a blade in the air.
Then, her gaze slid to me.
I expected the hatred. I expected the fury. What I saw was worse. It was a cold, dawning, and utterly final understanding. She finally saw me. Not as a stray. Not as a weakness. But as the new, cold, and cunning power that had so effortlessly and completely replaced her. I was the viper who had claimed her den.
She turned, her movements stiff and robotic, and walked out of the war room, her two guards at her side. The heavy door clicked shut, the sound like a gavel.
I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding. My heart was pounding, but my hands were steady. I felt a cold, hollow sickness in my gut. This was victory. This was power. It tasted like ash.
Draven didn't move for a long count of ten. The council was petrified. He had just, in one clean stroke, proven that his loyalty to me was greater than his loyalty to anyone else. He had proven that my word was his law. The lesson was brutal, and it was clear.
Then, he turned, his face once again the unreadable mask of the Alpha. The moment of emotion was over. The war was not.
"Valerius."
The scarred scout snapped to attention, his one good eye sharp. "Alpha."
"You command both parties. You will choose your secondary leader. You will take the thirty fastest wolves we have. You will not engage. You will not be seen. You will burn their supplies to the ground. Give them nothing but ash and melted snow. Understood?"
"Yes, Alpha," Valerius said, his voice crisp. The shock was gone, replaced by the focus of the mission.
"Good," Draven said. He looked at me. "Luna. The brute?"
The council's eyes all turned to me. I was no longer the Alpha's mate. I was a commander.
"Torg will draw the maps," I said, my voice steady, projecting a confidence I was only just starting to feel. "He knows the routes. He knows where the caches are hidden. He will be your key, Valerius. Use him."
Valerius nodded, his respect now clear and uncomplicated. "It will be done, Alpha. Luna."
"Go," Draven commanded. "You leave within the hour."
The council filed out, Valerius in the lead, all of them moving with a new, sharp, and fearful purpose. The door shut again, leaving Draven and me alone in the sudden, heavy quiet.
I didn't know what to say. I had won. I had deposed his Beta. I had set his pack on a new, "dishonorable" course. I waited for the explosion, for the fallout.
Draven didn't move. He walked to the window, his back to me, and stared out at the cold, gray peaks.
"I just cut off my right hand," he said, his voice low, not to me, but to the glass.
I came to stand beside him, a partner, not a subordinate. "You did what you had to do. She... she questioned your command. She called you weak."
"She was loyal," he countered, his voice rough. "For five years. Through the Long Famine. Through the border war with the Red Peaks. She held my eastern flank when no one else could. She... she was a warrior."
"And she was blinded by her own pride," I said, my voice quiet but firm. "She couldn't see the new threat. She was still fighting the last war, Draven. This... this is a new one."
He turned to me, his face hard, but his golden eyes were filled with a raw, painful conflict. "She was right, you know. It is a rogue's trick. It is dishonorable. We are a pack of warriors, and you have set us on a path of shadows, poisons, and lies."
"I have set us on a path to win," I said, meeting his gaze without flinching. "We are a pack of survivors, Draven. Or we are nothing. Honor won't keep our pups fed when a horde of a thousand starved wolves pours through that pass. Honor won't keep our fortress standing."
I reached up, my hand resting on his arm, on the hard leather. "This is the Queen's path you asked me to walk. It's not just sitting at your side. It's... this. It's making the choices you can't. It's being the viper, so you can remain the mountain."
He stared at me, his gaze searching my face, seeing the cold, hard resolve I didn't even know I had until this moment. He saw the rogue I had been, and the Queen I was becoming.
A long, slow breath left his body. He covered my hand with his, his grip tight, grounding. The conflict in his eyes eased, replaced by that same, fierce pride.
"A King and a Queen," he murmured. He'd accepted it. He'd accepted me. The cost, and the reward.
"Come," he said, his voice once again the solid, steady command of the Alpha. "Valerius leaves soon. Let's go give Torg his new purpose."
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