Chapter 8 – The Heir Who Calls Himself Practical

I swung the wooden practice blade down hard. The wood cracked against my opponent's guard and he stumbled back. I followed his retreat, stepped inside his reach, and swept his legs out from under him. He hit the dirt with a heavy thud, the breath rushing out of his lungs.

"Get up," I told the boy in the dirt.

He stayed down, clutching his side. "I yield."

"I did not ask if you yield. I told you to get up."

I stood over him and waited for him to catch his breath. The training grounds were hot today, the air thick with dust and the smell of sweat. I moved through the ritual combat drills with brutal, unyielding precision. My father, Alpha Dorian, stood near the edge of the ring watching my every move. He observed from the periphery, measuring my readiness for the upcoming ritual with a cold eye.

"Too much force on the finish," my father said. He crossed his arms over his chest. "You waste energy trying to break them when a simple disarm is enough."

"A broken opponent does not try to stand back up," I answered. I wiped sweat from my jaw.

"He is your packmate, Kael. Not an enemy."

"He challenged my guard," I said. "He needs to know why that was a mistake."

Varek paced in the back of my mind. My wolf was restless, his predatory hunger bleeding directly into my physical strikes all morning. He wanted actual blood. Most of all, he wanted me to stop pretending I was not distracted.

Dax Renwick leaned against the outer wooden railing. He watched the violence with mild interest, twirling a practice dagger in his fingers.

"You look like you are trying to murder the air," Dax said aloud.

I ignored his probing assessment and reset my stance. "Send another one."

"I think you have beaten enough people for one morning," my father said. "Save some aggression for the ritual."

"I have plenty left."

Another challenger stepped into the ring. I engaged without hesitation. The rhythmic impact of the wooden blades helped drown out the noise in my head.

《You are hiding from a memory,》 Varek said.

《I am training,》 I replied.

I parried a high strike and drove the hilt of my blade into the new challenger's ribs. He folded with a gasp and dropped his weapon.

Dax's voice slid into my mind through our shared link. 《The approaching Alpha ritual has made you exceptionally volatile today.》

Dax's wolf, Ruin, sent a low rumble of amusement through the connection.

Varek did not tolerate the disrespect. He snapped a dominant, suppressive snarl straight down the mind-link. The sheer authoritative weight of it silenced the lesser wolf completely. Dax blinked, his relaxed posture stiffening for a fraction of a second before he recovered his lazy lean.

"I am fine," I said out loud, projecting an aura of cold, elegant arrogance.

"You are sloppy," Dax countered. "You are usually calculated when you are cruel. Today you just lack focus. It is erratic."

"My focus is exactly where it needs to be."

"Sure it is," Dax said. He watched me with sharp eyes. He knew me too well. He registered the distinct difference between my usual calculated cruelty and this new lack of focus.

I turned my back on him and demanded the next opponent. Varek felt only raw territorial aggression, deeply annoyed by my internal denial. I expected the upcoming Alpha ritual to validate my superiority and erase my current mental static. I hoped absolute power would restore my perfect internal order.

The crowd of watching fighters shifted and parted. Selene glided onto the training grounds. Maris walked beside her, carrying ceremonial gifts wrapped in expensive silk. Selene wore a perfectly tailored dress that had no business being near a dirt ring. She looked exactly like the future Luna everyone expected her to be.

I immediately shifted my posture. I handed my practice blade to an attendant and stepped out of the fighting ring to receive her. I smoothed my aggression into polished composure before I reached them.

"You are early," I said. I took her hand and stood close enough to her to present a flawless tableau for the watching crowd.

"I wanted to bring the ritual offerings before the afternoon heat became unbearable," Selene said. She offered me a practiced, brilliant smile. "And I wanted to see you fight."

"You missed the best of it," I told her.

Varek remained utterly silent in my mind. He showed zero interest in the beautiful woman standing in front of us. He showed even less interest in her wolf, Sable.

Maris hovered nervously. "We brought the ceremonial silks. They need to be blessed before tomorrow. The elders require them early."

"I will have my attendants take care of it," I said.

A cluster of sycophantic girls trailed behind Selene, hovering near the edge of the platform. They whispered to each other and watched us with obvious envy.

Dax stepped back into the shade of the awning. His voice dropped into my mind again.

《Look at them. She surrounds herself with transactional followers, Kael. Not genuine allies.》

I kept my smile fixed on Selene. 《Leave it alone, Dax.》

《I am just pointing out a structural liability. A woman who requires a constant audience is weak. She needs orbiters to feel real.》

I fortified my mental walls and shoved his presence out. I sent back a cold, dismissive command to drop the subject entirely. I did not need his cynical analysis. I mentally listed Selene's advantageous traits to myself to crush his accurate observation. She had polish. She had ambition. She provided undeniable political utility. She was the logical choice. My lifelong conditioning told me to prioritize pack politics over emotional connection, and I trusted that logic. I expected our formal union to solidify my control over the district. I anticipated a future defined entirely by order, status, and predictability.

"You are quiet," Selene noted. She traced a finger lightly over my wrist.

"I am just focusing on tomorrow," I said. I offered her another practiced smile. I was determined to prove to Dax, to the pack, and to myself that this arrangement was the only correct path forward. "The ritual requires a clear head."

"You will be perfect," Maris chimed in. "Everyone says so."

"Of course he will," Selene agreed smoothly. "He is a Draven. Perfection is expected."

I let the conversation drift into meaningless pleasantries about banquet seating and floral arrangements.

Dax leaned against a post in the shade. I could feel his detached, cynical amusement. He thought my absolute refusal to see the shallow reality of my future bride was hilarious. I wanted to drag him into the ring and break his nose.

Instead, I kissed Selene on the back of the hand and told her I needed to wash up before the ride back to the estate.

The SUV rolled smoothly along the district roads an hour later. Dax sat across from me, his long legs stretched out, looking entirely too comfortable. I stared out the window at the passing buildings. The rhythmic clatter of the horses should have been soothing. It was not.

We passed the local market.

My gaze locked onto a solitary figure navigating the perimeter of the stone wall.

Lyra.

She walked with a bag full of groceries pressed tightly to her chest. Her usual guarded, blank expression was completely gone. It was replaced by a soft, private radiance that made her look entirely unfamiliar. She actually looked happy.

Varek surged forward in my consciousness. His attention snapped to the servant girl with sudden, intense focus.

《She is hiding something,》 Varek growled.

My chest tightened with a jarring, unpleasant shock. She was practically glowing. This radiant creature walking across the courtyard did not belong in my understanding of the world. My habitual need to dictate her emotional state made her independent happiness feel like a direct, personal insult to my authority.

Dax tracked my line of sight. He spotted Lyra just as she disappeared behind the western stairwell.

A lazy, mocking theory slid through our mind-link. 《Look at that. The servant has a suspicious glow. That is the unmistakable look of a girl hiding a clandestine romance.》

The mental intrusion acted like a spark hitting dry wood.

I reacted with immediate internal hostility. My pulse spiked hard and fast.

Varek snarled viciously at the concept of another male holding her attention. The raw, territorial aggression hit me so hard my hands shook. I forcefully suppressed my wolf's possessive reaction before it could show into my physical posture.

《Shut up,》 I projected a harsh, contemptuous thought back to Dax.

Dax chuckled out loud. "I am just making an observation, Kael. A girl does not look like that unless someone is making her feel very special."

"She is just a servant," I said coldly. "If she has a suitor, he is some pathetic, low-level district boy."

"Maybe. But whoever he is, he certainly has her distracted."

"I do not care who she sneaks around with."

"Your jaw says otherwise."

I unclenched my teeth. I forced myself to convince my own mind that this visceral anger was merely disgust at the idea of a servant sneaking around my territory. It was a discipline issue. It was a household problem.

《We need to find out what it is,》 Varek demanded.

《We will deal with her later,》 I answered him.

I anticipated confronting her directly.

Dax watched me in the carriage. His growing awareness of my fixation tightened the social pressure between us.

"You are thinking about her," Dax pushed.

"I am thinking about the ritual," I lied.

"You really believe that?"

"I know it."

I spent the remainder of the ride staring blankly ahead. The SUV swayed. The district rolled by outside the window. I kept my jaw clenched against a dark, irrational fury that refused to settle.

A servant girl's smile had no right to make me feel like I was losing my grip.