Chapter 62

Crown Prince Callan

The huge alarm bell at the top of the palace continued ringing. Its loud, steady sound shook the marble floor beneath my boots.

CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

Around us, the High Council chamber was quickly emptying. Lords shouted in fear while the sound of clashing weapons filled the hall. Captains barked orders, rushing their soldiers toward the western gates to fight the rebel army that I had made them believe was coming from the Outback pass.

The air was filled with fear, the smell of burning candle grease, and the sharp, metallic scent of freshly drawn swords.

On the raised platform, my mother stood beside her golden throne. Her silver-threaded gown remained perfectly neat, but her eyes burned with uncontrollable anger. I had not seen her this furious since the northern purges thirty years ago.

“Callan!”

Empress Cynthia’s voice cut through the noise.

She hurried down the marble steps, her sharp heels clicking angrily against the stone. She stopped just three steps away from me in the middle of the chamber.

“The Vanguard is already gathering in the lower courtyard,” she ordered. “You will take the First Division and ride straight to the western pass. Crush those rebel dogs before they reach the river!”

She held out her hand, offering me the heavy gold ring decorated with rubies. It was the royal ring that gave its wearer complete command over the Imperial Vanguard.

I didn’t take it. I didn’t even look at it.

My nostrils flared as I took a deep breath, breathing in the cold, tense air of the chamber.

Through the smoke from the wall torches and the panic of the fifty council members rushing out, I caught a scent that hit me like a physical blow.

It wasn’t the artificial, overpowering heat scent coming from the little servant girl slumped against the pillar.

There was another scent beneath it. A faint one, but impossible for me to ignore.

Wild honey. Fresh rain. Electric ozone.

My eyes slowly moved across the nearly empty chamber until they settled on the small, hunched figure standing near the bottom of the dais. Commander Jace Corowa and Lord Stirling Vance stood close on either side of her.

My brother.

My mate.

The girl who had hidden the truth about herself for ten years. Her real scent was now buried beneath the strong, overpowering scents of the two dominant Alphas standing over her like hungry wolves.

Every instinct inside me screamed that she belonged to me. I wanted to claim her, protect her, and keep her away from everyone else.

The royal blood running through my veins only made the feeling stronger. I wanted to tear out Jace’s throat, break Stirling’s spine, and pull her small, trembling body into my arms.

I wanted to hold her so tightly that no one in this cursed kingdom would ever get the chance to look at her again.

If I rode to the western pass today, I would be leaving her alone in a palace full of dangerous people. I would be leaving her with Jace—a man who had touched her neck with his black-gloved hand and carried her mark in his soul.

“Did you hear me, Crown Prince?” the Empress snapped, stepping directly in front of me. Her hand shook with anger as she pushed the royal signet toward my chest. “You will leave at sunrise!”

Slowly, I lowered my broadsword until its bloody tip rested against the marble floor.

“No,” I replied roughly.

That single word cut through the noise of the nearly empty chamber like a heavy door slamming shut.

The Empress froze. Her face turned as pale as her silver gown, and her violet eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

“What did you just say to me?” she demanded.

“I said I’m not leaving the capital, Mother.”

My voice dropped into a deep, threatening growl that seemed to shake the stone beneath our feet.

I didn’t bow my head or look away. I stared directly into her eyes, allowing the wild, dangerous crimson in my Alpha eyes to show without trying to hide it.

“Send the Vanguard captains. Send the Northern lords. Send anyone you want to the Outback. But I am staying here.”

“How dare you disobey an imperial order?” Cynthia whispered. Her voice shook with anger, but her authority was still terrifying. “And in front of the High Council and foreign envoys, too! You are the Crown Prince of New Avalon! Your duty is to the throne!”

“My duty,” I snapped, taking a heavy step toward her until my iron chest armor brushed against her silver sleeve, “is to protect what belongs to me.”

I turned my head and stared across the chamber at Elouera. My eyes were almost completely black, with a dark red ring around them.

Her pale face was covered in sweat. I saw the fear in her eyes and the way her chest rose sharply as she struggled to breathe. Her small hand gripped the high lace collar covering the golden mark on her neck.

Then I noticed Jace move.

He shifted his body closer to her, placing himself directly against her left shoulder to block my view. His hand immediately went to the hilt of his short sword, ready to draw it if I came any closer.

“Callan, you fool!” Archduke Holden called from the chancellor’s podium. His smooth voice carried a hint of dark amusement as he leaned on his mechanical cane. “The western pass is under attack! If the rebels take the capital, there will be no throne left for you to inherit!”

I didn’t answer him.

I didn’t care about the rebels. I didn’t care if the entire empire burned to the ground before nightfall.

All I cared about was Elouera.

I took three long, heavy steps toward her. My boots crushed the broken glass scattered across the floor, while my broadsword dragged behind me, scraping against the ground.

“You’re not going anywhere either, little prince,” I whispered. My voice carried across the now-silent hall, filled with a dark and frightening promise.

Before Jace could even draw his sword, a sudden explosion shattered the tall stained-glass windows at the top of the council chamber.

Sharp pieces of glass rained down onto the floor, scattering everywhere.

Through the huge hole in the roof, a massive iron grappling hook crashed into the stone platform. Its thick chains pulled tight with a loud, painful screech of metal.

Then someone began sliding down the chain.

It was Vane, the leader of the Black Cell mercenaries. His dark eyes burned with wild, murderous anger as he descended into the chamber.