A King's Turmoil

Xander’s POV

His words broke something in me.

For a second the whole bathhouse went still, like the air had been pulled out of the room. I just stood there and watched him break down in front of me.

Then he fell forward and hit me.

His forehead slammed into the center of my chest and the heat of him followed right after. Wet, sharp, and fast. His fingers dug into the muscles of my back like he was drowning.

I couldn’t think past the sound of him.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know."

My hand came up on its own. I ran it through his hair, damp and dark and shaking under my palm, and pressed it flat between his shoulder blades to keep him from falling any further.

He didn’t answer. He only pressed closer and shook harder, and his sobs tore out of him in broken pieces that made my jaw ache.

I slid one arm under his knees and the other around his shoulders and lifted him. He was too light for how much weight he was carrying. I carried him out of the steam and out of the bathhouse without looking at anyone.

The halls were empty. Good. The last thing he needed was eyes on him like this.

The royal bedroom was cold when I got there. I set him down on the silk sheets and he didn’t let go right away. His hand stayed twisted in my wrist.

I climbed in beside him. I didn’t ask questions, didn’t make him explain, I just pulled him back against me and let him match his breathing to mine.

His shaking slowed, then stopped. Even asleep his fingers stayed on me. I stayed with him until the sky outside went black. 

Then I forced myself to stand.

****

The Grand Council Chamber was waiting.

The iron doors slammed shut behind me and the sound rolled over the room and died in the quiet. Twelve elders sat around the crescent stone table, their faces cut in half by torchlight.

Lord Merrick stood in the middle of it all. Spine straight. Hands flat on a stack of old law books. Mouth pressed thin.

“This is madness, Your Grace,” he said, and his voice cut straight through the warmth in the room. “You rejected Lady Brenda, a pure Alpha blood from a high line for a servant. A male omega who cannot give the Noctaryn pack a heir.” He let that sit for a moment before he finished it. 

“The lineage demands purity. Not a defect.”

I didn’t sit on the throne. I walked to the edge of the dais instead, and my boots hit the stone loud enough to make a few of them flinch. I leaned forward until my shadow fell over his papers.

“Watch your tongue, Merrick.” My voice dropped low. “The next time you call my mate a defect in this hall, it will be the last word that comes out of your throat.”

A fist slammed down on the table. Vance. Gray hair, old eyes, and a temper he couldn’t control. 

“You cannot threaten the council over a servant!” Spit hit the wood. “The pack is bleeding at the southern border. The Crescent wolves are mutating. Our warriors are dying. And instead of securing an alliance through Brenda’s family, you bring a broken boy into the royal bed? The people are calling it a curse.”

“The people will call him Consort,” I said, “because I commanded it.”

I stepped down off the dais and walked right into Vance’s space. His scent went sour with fear, but I didn’t stop. My wolf pushed hard against my skin, asking for teeth and blood.

“My wolf chose him,” I said. “Not the line. Not the politics. Not your desperate need to control the throne. Ashton belongs at my side.”

Merrick moved between us, his expression tight. “A king who rules by the whims of a broken omega invites a coup, Xander.” He didn’t blink. “You need to force him to take the Purity and Lineage Blessing before the ancient Moon Totem. Prove his worth. Or the council will have no choice but to declare the throne unstable.”

“Let every high house assemble their guards. If any man, noble or peasant, steps toward Ashton with a blade or a demand for a ritual, I will burn this citadel to the ground myself before I let you touch him.”

I let that hang there. “The crown stays on my head because I am the strongest beast in this valley. Do not mistake my patience for weakness.”

Merrick’s jaw ticked. His eyes were cold, but he stepped back and gave me a bow that had no respect in it. “As you wish, Your Grace. But the court has a way of balancing itself. With or without your permission.”

I didn’t waste another breath on them. I turned and walked out.

My heart was still hammering in my ribs. Upstairs, Ashton was asleep, and my wolf wouldn’t stop pulling at me.

I took the spiral stairs two at a time. I needed to see him. I needed to smell him and make sure he was still breathing and still safe.

The royal corridor was cold. The two guards outside my door weren’t moving. Their faces were pale under the torchlight and that alone was enough to turn my blood to ice.

The oak door to my chambers was open. Just a little.

My hand dropped to the hilt of my sword before I realized I’d done it. I pushed the door in. The room was freezing.

The silk sheets I’d left him in were on the floor, torn off the bed and empty. Ashton was gone.