Chapter 21: The Council at the Gate

The car sat idling in the slush of the outer courtyard, exhaust curling white against the darkening Alpine sky. Flashing from its hood was the golden banner of the Southern Syndicate Council, bright and arrogant against the smoke-stained stone of the keep.

"You stay in the inner study," Reymond said, his voice flat as he buckled a fresh shoulder holster over his bandage-bound chest. "Mauris has four men outside the door. If the delegation brings armed escorts past the threshold, he moves you to the lower vault."

I stopped wrapping the clean linen strip over my split forearm and looked up at him. "I just told the entire northern territory that I chose to stand beside you, Reymond. If I hide in a cellar the second an envoy steps through the gate, I make us both look like liars."

Reymond turned, his eyes dark with a possessive fury. "They aren't here to talk, Natalia. The Southern Council doesn't send diplomatic banners unless they've already decided who they're executing. You aren't going down to that hall."

"It isn't your call to make," I said, pulling the knot tight with my teeth and snapping the excess cloth off with a quick tug. "You called me your Queen in front of your entire army. Are you going to lock your Queen in a room because you're scared of men in suits?"

A dangerous muscle worked in his jaw. He took two steps across the stone floor, stopping so close I could feel the heat radiating off his scarred chest.

"I'm not scared of them," Reymond growled softly, his thumb catching my chin, holding my gaze steady. "I'm protecting what's mine."

"Then protect me by standing beside me," I replied, leaning into his touch just enough to feel the tension in his fingers before gently pushing his hand away. "Not by putting a lock on my door."

Reymond stared down at me and, he let out a harsh, low breath and stepped back. "Fine. But if I tell you to move, you step behind me. No arguments."

"I'll consider it," I said.

The great hall was freezing. Drafts whistled through the high arched windows, carrying the smell of lingering smoke from the courtyard.

Reymond stood at the head of the long oak table, flanked by four of his highest-ranking strike commanders. I sat to his right, my coat buttoned over my bandaged arm, my posture straight. On the opposite side of the room, my father stood in the shadows near the hearth, his arms crossed over his chest, watching the entrance like a hawk waiting for prey.

The heavy iron doors swung open with a long, low groan.

Three figures walked into the hall, escorted by six of Reymond’s guards with drawn sidearms. At the front was Envoy Vane, a lean, sharp-featured man in a tailored charcoal suit, his grey hair slicked back tightly against his skull. He carried a silver-rimmed leather briefcase, his expression entirely unreadable as he scanned the room.

"Disarm them," Reymond ordered flatly.

"Alpha Smith," the council leader said, stopping ten paces from the table. "We carry diplomatic immunity under the Geneva Charter. Searching a council envoy is an act of explicit aggression."

"You're on my mountain," Reymond replied, his voice dropping into a lethal, quiet register. "You strip the steel, or you step back into the snow."

He held Reymond’s gaze for a long moment before giving a subtle nod to the two guards behind him. They unbuckled their sidearms and handed them to Marcus, who stacked them on a side table near the door.

The council leader stepped up to the table, his eyes sliding past Reymond to settle squarely on me. A faint, cold smile touched his thin lips. "Princess Natalia. It is surprising to see you seated at a syndicate table. We were told you were being held under duress."

"You watched the broadcast, Envoy," I said, my voice smooth and resonant in the cold hall. "I made my position clear to every pack in the north."

"A broadcast recorded inside a garrison under siege proves very little, my dear," he murmured, placing his briefcase flat on the polished oak. "Fear makes people say extraordinary things to stay alive."

Reymond’s hands planted flat on the table as he leaned forward, his broad shoulders blocking half the light from the hearth. "State your business, Mr. Before I lose my patience."

The council leader snapped the silver latches of his briefcase open with two sharp clicks. He pulled out a single sheet of heavy parchment, stamped with the black wax seal of the Southern High Council.

"By order of the Emergency Syndicate Directorate," he read aloud, his voice cutting clearly through the drafty room, "Alpha Reymond Smith’s governance over the northern territory is hereby placed under immediate administrative review, pending an investigation into the illegal consolidation of royal bloodlines."

Reymond let out a low, dark chuckle. "Administrative review? You brought a piece of paper to my fortress to tell me I'm under investigation?"

"Read the rest of the decree, Alpha," the council leader said smoothly. "The second clause requires that Princess Natalia Walker be placed into neutral council custody immediately, to be transported to Geneva where her royal status and physical condition can be independently verified."

A suffocating silence dropped over the hall.

Behind me, I heard the sharp snick of Reymond’s claws extending against the oak table, deep gouges tearing into the wood. The gold in his eyes flared into a violent, blinding burn.

"Touch her," Reymond whispered, his voice vibrating with the raw, terrifying threat of an Apex beast, "and not a single man from your delegation leaves this mountain alive."

The two southern guards of the council behind him instinctively reached for weapons they no longer had, their faces going pale.

I stood up before Reymond could take a step around the table.

"Reymond, stop," I commanded, my voice carrying a sharp royal resonance that made the air in the room drop two degrees.

Reymond froze, his chest heaving, his gold-flecked eyes snapping toward me in shock. "Natalia"

"I said stop," I repeated, stepping around the chair to stand directly between Reymond and the envoy. I looked at the council leader straight in the eye. "You want a public display of an Alpha holding a princess hostage, Envoy. You brought a piece of paper expecting him to draw blood so you could justify your army."

His eyes narrowed slightly, his smooth composure faltering for the first time. "I am simply delivering the council’s decree, Princess."

"Then hear my answer," I said, taking two deliberate steps toward the envoy until I was standing less than an arm's length away. "I refuse council custody."

He frowned. "You do not have the legal standing to refuse a Directorate order"

"I am the sole surviving heir of the Walker royal line," I cut him off, my voice steady, sharp, and echoing off the rafters. "Under the ancient territory accords, the very accords your council claims to enforce, a royal heir cannot be removed from her ancestral lands without her explicit consent, or a formal challenge in front of the full regional assembly."

The leader swallowed hard, his thin fingers clenching against the edge of his briefcase. "A formal hearing takes weeks to organize"

"Then organize it," I said cleanly. "I will agree to a formal hearing right here on neutral ground at the base of the pass. I will answer your council's questions. But I speak for myself, I represent my own bloodline, and if any man from your council attempts to touch me or chain me without my consent, I will consider it an act of war against the royal line."

Silence stretched through the great hall.

In the shadows by the hearth, my father let out a quiet, approving hum, though he didn't move. Beside me, Reymond’s breathing remained heavy, but the golden glare in his eyes had receded back into dark silver. I had stripped the council of their excuse to attack today without giving up an inch of ground.

The council leader stared at me for a long, tense moment. Slowly, he reached down and closed his briefcase with a sharp snap.

"A clever manoeuvre, Princess," he said softly, his voice laced with cold poison. "You have your hearing. Three days from now, at the lower valley lodge."

He turned to leave, gesturing for his guards to follow him back toward the heavy doors. But as he passed Reymond at the end of the table, he paused.

And leaned in slightly, keeping his voice low enough that the guards near the doors couldn't hear, though I caught every word.

"Enjoy your temporary victory, Alpha," he whispered with a bitter, yellow-toothed smile. "You think you're protecting a royal heir. But the council already has the lab records from seven years ago. We know about the illegal power-transfer experiment your father ran in the deep archives... and Natalia’s blood is listed as the primary source."