Chapter Twenty-Six

LEO’S POV

The east sunroom was draped in golden afternoon light, filtering through sprawling floor-to-ceiling glass archways. Steam rose lazily from a delicate porcelain tea set resting on a glass table. My mother, Queen Eleanor, sat in a velvet high-backed chair, her spine straight as a blade, her silver-threaded hair pinned into a flawless royal crown braid.

"Sit, Leo," she commanded softly, not bothering to lift her eyes from the silk tapestry she was embroidering.

I didn't sit. I stood near the archway, resting one hand inside my coat pocket, feeling the small, velvet box containing Ivy's sapphire pendant against my palm. "Sir Desmond said you summoned me, Mother. I have a long drive back to my estate."

Queen Eleanor set down her needle and finally looked up. Her cold, sharp amber eyes, so similar to my own scanned my face, searching for any sign of tiredness.

"I received word from the High Council this morning," she began, her tone measured, every word calculated. "Alpha Marcus Ashworth sent an official petition to the elders regarding the girl you are harboring. I am going to say this once, Leo: do not make enemies with the Ashworth pack over this. They hold significant territorial power along our northern borders, and their military strength is not something to casually dismiss."

A harsh, bitter laugh escaped my throat before I could stop it.

"No, Mother," I said, my voice dropping an octave, heavy with a cold, simmering Alpha authority. "Marcus should be the one trembling in his boots right now. Because he made the fatal mistake of tormenting and abandoning the mother of my child."

"You don’t understand, Leo," my mother warned, her brow furrowing into a tight, severe line as she set her tea cup down with a sharp clink. "Marcus is a very dangerous and unreasonable man."

"Why?" I interrupted smoothly, taking a deliberate step toward her table. "Because he plays dirty? Because of the Blood Rage serum that’s been secretly circulating around our kingdom's lower territories?"

Queen Eleanor’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening slightly around her linen napkin, though she expressions remained calm.

"I know he has a hand in it, Mother," I continued, my gaze locking onto hers with unyielding force. "I know he's funding the distribution of that toxic serum to destabilize border packs. And as Crown Prince, I will put a complete end to it…and anybody that stands in my way."

"I did not say you should not do your duty as Prince," Queen Eleanor countered sharply, her voice rising a bit. "Of course you must protect our borders! But I do not want you acting out of blind, emotional rage. As the future King, you must never make critical political decisions based on your personal feelings. Yes, Marcus hurt Ivy. Yes, her past is tragic. But do not make her personal problems yours, Leo. You cannot afford to burn down kingdom alliances over a rogue girl's grievances!"

"Mother," I said softly, the quiet intensity in my tone halting her words instantly. "Her problems became mine the very second I saw her being dragged through the dirt like a common thief out of her own pack... by her own family."

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the sunroom.

Queen Eleanor stared at me for a long, agonizing moment. The sharp, unyielding queen seemed to falter just a fraction, replaced by a mother looking at a son whose resolve she could no longer bend or break. She looked down at her hands, the silence stretching between us until even the ticking clock on the wall felt unnaturally loud.

Finally, she let out a long, quiet breath and looked up.

"Your coronation is in two months, you know that right?" she asked quietly, her eyes searching mine.

I didn't answer. I kept my jaw set, my expression unreadable.

 "Focus on becoming King, Leo," she requested softly, her voice carrying a rare, raw plea. "That is all I ask of you. Do not give the elders a reason to challenge your crown."

"I heard what you said, Mother," I replied quietly.

I offered her a formal, low bow…respectful of her title, but distant from her plea. Without waiting for her dismissal, I turned on my heel and walked out of the sunroom, my heavy boots echoing down the quiet marble corridor.

As I stepped back out into the cool evening air where my car was waiting, the tension in my shoulders slowly began to ease. I pulled the velvet box from my pocket, running my thumb over the smooth fabric.

I didn't care about their crowns, their council politics, or their postponed coronations. Let them delay it as long as they wanted. I was heading home to my mate.