two-front war

Sol refused to stay in the infirmary another hour. The moment the King’s back was turned to consult with the High Healer, Sol was on his feet, his jaw set in that familiar line of stubborn pride despite the paleness of his skin.

"I am not spending the night in a room that smells like antiseptic and defeat," he grumbled, though I could see the slight tremor in his hands as he reached for his discarded tunic.

I sighed, stepping in to steady him. I hooked my arm through his, providing a solid anchor. "Fine. But you’re staying under my watch. If you start feeling even a hint of that toxin returning—nausea, dizziness, anything—you knock on my door. Promise me."

Sol stopped, looking down at me, his golden eyes widening in genuine shock. A slow, devastating smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned a fraction closer, his scent—spiced cedar and ozone—wrapping around me.

"Is that an open invitation for anytime I’m feeling bad, Queen? Or just a one-night-only special?"

I felt the heat rush up my neck, a traitorous blush creeping toward my high collar. I should have been cold. I should have been professional. Instead, I felt a spark of playfulness I hadn't felt in years.

"It could stay an open invitation," I murmured, meeting his gaze with a boldness that surprised even me. "Depending entirely on how you behave yourself."

Sol’s breath hitched, his smirk faltering into a look of pure, unmasked intrigue. As we began the long walk toward the Royal Wing together, the space between our bodies felt charged with a frequency that ignored every law ever written. What am I doing? I questioned myself. He’s a Dragon Royal. The laws of the shifter world were ancient and rigid: Dragon Royals only mated with other Dragons to keep the flame of their lineage pure. A Wolf—even a High Alpha—was a political impossibility.

But as I felt the warmth of his arm through his sleeve, the "impossible" felt like a challenge I was starting to enjoy.

As we arrived to the main hall of the Royal Wing, Pamela and Marcus were deep in a heated debate. The map of the Academy was projected between them, glowing with red markers where the security had failed.

"The perimeter didn't just fail; it was bypassed," Marcus growled, his hands clenched. "Amelie was a distraction, but the sniper? That was a professional."

"We aren't safe here," I said, stepping into the light as Sol and I arrived. "The Imperial Tower has too many blind spots, and clearly, the staff has been compromised. I suggest we move the operation. Sleep in my private wing at the Silver Tower tonight."

The King, who had been pacing near the window, stopped dead. "Absolutely not. The Dragon Heir stays within Royal walls. I will not have my son sleeping in a corporate dormitory."

The King turned his full, crushing attention to me. He radiated the kind of power that usually sent Alphas to their knees in submission. He stared into my eyes, expecting me to wither, to look at the floor, to acknowledge his ultimate authority.

I didn't blink. I didn't lower my chin. I met his gaze with the cold, unwavering stare of a High Alpha who answered to no one but the Goddess.

The King’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his features. He wasn't looking at my collar anymore; he was looking at the fire in my soul. He hadn't seen a wolf stand their ground against a Dragon King in decades.

"Father," Sol intervened, his voice calm but firm. "Amelie managed to enter my private bedchamber while I was asleep. She walked through your 'Royal walls' like they were made of paper. Aella’s tower is built on Silver Pack tech. It’s a fortress."

The King took a slow breath, his respect for me growing in spite of his pride. "I’ll give you a tour of the wing, Your Majesty," I offered. "For your peace of mind. You’ll see that my security protocols make the Academy’s look like a child’s toy."

"There’s a problem," Marcus interrupted, his face a mask of fury. "We have Jax and Amelie in the cells—Amelie is being treated for the leg wound under heavy guard—but Maxwell is gone."

"Gone?" I snapped. "How?"

"He used the service tunnels," Marcus said, gesturing to a section of the map that was darkened. "But not the ones on the official blueprints. There are underground passages beneath this school that nobody knew existed. Ancient ones. He slipped into the dark and vanished before the guards could seal the lower levels."

Linus approached from the shadows, his massive frame casting a long shadow over the group.

"It’s worse than we thought," the Alpha instructor rumbled. "My contacts in the Eclipse have confirmed: the threat is active, and it's targeted. There are two separate cells operating within these walls. One is after the Dragon Heir to destabilize the monarchy. The other is after you, Aella. They aren't working together, but they are both hungry. We are officially in a two-front war."