CHAPTER TEN: Her Guardian

It wasn’t only my face that changed color upon hearing Alpha Kael’s words.

Beta Nial’s had already gone red when Alpha Kael ordered him to bring more food.

Now it darkened further.

Not anger exactly. Not yet. Something tighter. Bitter. Like irritation pressed down so hard it had begun to rot beneath the surface.

His grip tightened around the stack of papers in his arms. The edges bent slightly where his fingers pressed too hard.

“Of course, my lord,” Nial said.

The words were smooth.

Too smooth.

They slid out perfectly shaped, obedient in tone, but stripped of warmth. There was no ease in them. No acceptance. Just compliance sharpened into something thin and edged, like a blade kept hidden because it had to be.

Then he didn’t stop.

“But before that,” Nial continued, shifting the stack of documents with unnecessary precision, as if the movement itself were restraint, “the eastern patrol still needs approval. The elders are already asking why you haven’t responded. The border rotation remains unsigned, and the western reports are still waiting—”

He kept going.

One thing after another.

Councils. Reports. Requests. Delays.

Each word stacked neatly on top of the last, building something heavy and unavoidable. His voice stayed measured, controlled, but the speed betrayed him. He spoke the way someone spoke when they had been carrying too much for too long and had finally decided to unload it all at once.

I watched him in silence.

I couldn’t believe he could act like that.

Not here.

Not now.

Not to Alpha Kael.

Alpha Kael did not interrupt him.

He remained seated, posture loose, one arm resting against the back of his chair as if Nial’s words were nothing more than ambient noise. The table between us was scattered with empty plates and crumbs, signs of a meal already finished, already irrelevant.

His gaze was not on the papers.

It wasn’t on Nial either.

It was on me.

Not openly.

But I felt it.

The awareness rested against my senses, steady and unyielding, like warmth that lingered even after a fire had been reduced to embers. It didn’t press. It didn’t demand. It simply existed, impossible to ignore.

Nial pressed on.

“And you postponed the council again,” he said, a crack finally threading into his composure. “That’s the third time. The elders are watching more closely now. If this continues—”

“Enough.”

Alpha Kael’s voice was quiet.

It still ended everything.

The word cut through the room cleanly, without force, without effort. Nial stopped mid-sentence, breath catching as if the sound itself had been taken from him.

Silence followed.

The kind that rang in the ears.

Alpha Kael stood.

The movement was unhurried, but it changed the room instantly. The air shifted, thickening in a way I felt more than heard. My shoulders tensed without my permission, instinct reacting before thought could catch up.

Alpha Kael turned and walked toward the door.

No explanation.

No dismissal.

No acknowledgment of the complaints left hanging in the air.

Just certainty.

Nial froze.

Only for a heartbeat.

Then he followed, his steps sharp against the stone, papers held tighter now, as if he were bracing himself against something unseen.

I stayed where I was.

For a moment, I wasn’t sure if I was meant to move.

Alpha Kael reached the doorway and stopped. He turned his head slightly.

His gaze found me.

“Come,” he said.

Just that.

Not raised.

Not sharp.

Final.

The word settled into me like a decision already made.

I swallowed and stood, fingers curling at my sides as I followed them out of the dining room. The stone beneath my feet felt cooler here, the corridor stretching longer than it had before.

I didn’t know why I was going.

But I knew I was expected to.

The palace felt different beyond the dining space. Quieter. Narrower. As if sound itself had learned to pull back in Kael’s presence. He walked ahead, unbothered, unhurried, like the walls adjusted themselves to his pace without question.

Nial followed close behind him.

His jaw was tight now. His eyes darker. The strain of restraint sat heavily in his posture, like someone forcing himself to remain upright through exhaustion.

I walked last.

‘Why am I with them?’

The thought surfaced again.

Still unanswered.

Alpha Kael pushed open the doors to his office.

The room beyond was wide and cluttered, nothing like the controlled calm of the dining space. Papers covered nearly every surface. Scrolls were stacked unevenly along shelves and tables. Ink pots sat uncapped, stains marking where someone had rushed away without finishing their work. Chairs stood slightly askew, as if no one here had time to sit properly.

Two men were already inside.

They turned at once.

One was older, hair streaked with gray, posture rigid and formal, hands clasped behind his back. The other was younger, sharp-eyed, gripping a ledger so tightly his knuckles had gone pale.

Both stopped short when they saw me behind Alpha Kael.

Surprise flickered across their faces.

Neither spoke.

Alpha Kael crossed the room and sat behind his desk. The heavy chair accepted him easily, fitting his frame like it had been shaped for him alone. He leaned back at once, relaxed, as if he hadn’t just abandoned half a day’s worth of duties.

Nial stepped forward immediately.

“This is what I was telling you about,” he said, gesturing sharply at the papers. “You’ve skipped more than one session. The elders are—”

Alpha Kael didn’t look at him.

His eyes were on me again.

“Sit,” he said, pointing toward the sofa in the center of the room.

I hesitated.

Then obeyed.

The cushion dipped beneath my weight. I folded my hands in my lap, suddenly aware of every eye in the room, of the way the air seemed to hold its breath around us.

As the others resumed speaking, explanations overlapping and voices rising and falling around him, I realized something unsettling.

Alpha Kael wasn’t listening.

Not fully.

His attention never left me.

“The omega’s condition is unprecedented,” the older man said carefully. “We’ve never recorded energy levels that volatile.”

“And if it isn’t managed properly,” the younger added, “it could cause instability. We may need to appoint a guardian.”

My chest tightened.

Guardian.

The word felt heavy, unfamiliar.

Alpha Kael moved.

He stood abruptly and crossed the room in two strides. Without warning, he took my hand.

Not my wrist.

My hand.

The contact was instant.

Heat surged up my arm, fast and deep, spreading through my chest like something finally given permission to move. My breath caught as the pressure inside me shifted, flowing toward him as if it had been waiting for direction.

A sharp intake of breath sounded.

Not mine.

One of the men stared openly now.

Nial went completely still.

Alpha Kael straightened.

Stronger.

Not visibly. But undeniably.

The air around him felt denser, charged in a way that made my skin prickle.

“That,” Alpha Kael said calmly, “is what you’re concerned about.”

No one spoke.

He released my hand.

The warmth lingered, fading slowly, like heat pulled from stone.

“A guardian?” Alpha Kael continued, his gaze sweeping the room before settling back on them. “Why would she need one.”

His eyes dropped briefly to me.

Then lifted again.

“When I’m here.”

Unease spread through the room, quiet and unmistakable.

Everyone had seen it.

And nothing about it felt contained anymore.