Chapter 30

Dorian's POV

The palace has never been this quiet. Not even when they mourned the late king.

The temporary lockdown has been signed into effect yesterday, and since; the halls have been quieter. Fewer people roaming, more guards at every station.

Even the servants move less now. They don't linger around, just perform their duties and disappear back into the maid's quarters.

Dorian stands in the middle of it all, though restless. He's been restless since his last discussion with Isabelle. The thought of someone so close wanting to kill him, and he hasn't noticed...

His jaw tightens as he pushes the thoughts away.

The investigation is ongoing, and so far, the guests have remained cooperative.

Good.

Meanwhile, the preparations for the coronation has already begun. He is to be crowned in a few weeks, and invitations are already being sent out.

And because a Coronation doesn't usually happen as often as other.....events, the palace of Moonveil is always known to go all out for it..

Preparations starts weeks in advance..First decorations of major halls, then the shipment of herbs and  spices...enough to feed hundreds of guests. Guests rooms will be prepared next, enough to host over a hundred guests that come from far each time.

Dorian stands at the center of the grand hall, gaze lifted toward the high arched ceilings where the banners of Moonveil are being carefully draped.

The signature red embroidery glints from a distance, giving it a... celebratory edge as slowly, the hall room is being transformed... several maids working efficiently..

"This is..." David huffs as he reaches him, "This is the most... subdued coronation I've seen."

Dorian glares at him. "You're just 27, how many coronations have you seen?!" He looks around the room again, "plus, you know the situation on ground. We can't afford to have too many peoples working right now."

David opens his mouth to respond...

“Your Highness!” Someone interrupts him before before he can clap back, one of the attendants hurrying forward, “I'm sorry to interrupt," she bows low, "But I need Knight David. There's an issue..."

David exhales and nods, slipping a way behind the assistant as she starts to explain eagerly.

Dorian continues to cross check every detail. He checks the list of repositioned guards, the format of patrol, even how well the measurements for a new throne is going.

Everything seems to be running smoothly. For now that is..

The head of security approaches a few minutes after, head bent in reverence, "the outer gates have been sealed as ordered. All incoming guests will be screened and escorted in."

"Good," Dorian nods curtly. "And the inner palace? Are any of the selected mates giving issues?"

The man bows and shakes his head, "No my lord. They're all in their rooms now, and only approved personals can move freely through the inner chamber."

Dorian dismisses him with a flick of his fingers, eyes drifting again.

Not to the hall this time, but to her.

Isabelle stands near the end of the hall, dressed now in a cleaner, more fitted version of the maid's uniform. 

"She looks good like this..." He thinks as he watches her signature loose strands of golden hair fly slightly with the wind.

Since she moved to the closer maids quarters last night, he's not allowed her to work out of his sight. Like his wolf can't stand the thought of her being too far away.

Isabella had even led the clearing of his bath this morning, though he could see the older maids didn't seem happy at the supposed new 'promotion.' 

Dorian doesn't care what anyone else thinks...

The way she'd settled into the new rhythm is natural, like she has supposed to be besides him all along.

"You're drooling, Your Highness." David's voice reaches his ears, a smirk on his lips when he follows his gaze.

"Fuck off!" Dorian growls, but even then he doesn't pull his eyes away.

As if sensing his gaze, Her head lifts slowly, beautiful brown eyes meeting his pinning green ones.

She instantly blushes and looks away.

David besides him just whistles under his breath, but doesn't comment as he moves ahead to monitor the rest of the decorations. Ever since their last conversation about Dorian almost marking her, and him loosing his temper, David has tried to keep conversations about them minimal, though he still doesn't agree with it.

Dorian at the same time that David slips away, decides he needs a break.

The training ring is mostly empty when Dorian walks in clad in training clothes, a soft shirt and a fitted shorts he can fight in properly.

He usually 'trains'..for a lack of better word for describe fighting viciously....against the strongest fighters in Moonveil's army. Sometimes David would join him in the ring, knowing fully well he'd loose.

But today, he needs the peace and quiet. Somewhere he could pretend the weight of Kayla's words doesn't trouble him.

Like the assassination doesn't make him uneasy...

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair as his gaze scans the space. It stops at the far end of the ring,  where the archery posts stand untouched.

"...Archery, then."

Reaching for a bow, he tests its weight before nocking an arrow. The string pulls back smoothly before slicing through the air and embeds itself dead center.

He nocks another arrow, again and again, until the noise in his head fades, and his skin buzzes with adrenaline.

A proud grin is almost creeping up his handsome face, when the next second, he stills. He smells something...off.

Then he hears the whistle of an arrow that's definitely not. It flies just past his ears before he can duck. Teeth gritting, eyes darting around to nothing.

He rolls over to the other side, taking on a fighting stance as he stands, already feeling a familiar thirst for a fight.

Another arrow slices past him, but before he can dock, his body jerks, grunting low as a thick arrow pins into the flesh of his shoulder.

Red floods his vision, wolf surging forward with blood-lust eagerness. The sound of bones shifting fills the air, body growing rapidly in size, clothes tearing into shreds. Thick furs, black with grey patterns sprouts quicky, fill every inch of skin, his massive wolf form standing tall in the middle of the ring.

Two more arrows come at him, embedding painfully into his sides. The pain lances through him,a low pained sound as blood trickles down his fur.

Dorian growls loudly and tries to lounge, but it feels like he's dragging his limbs through quick sand. He can't move...

Something is wrong.

Even the blood from the wounds are trickling out faster now, black, like something rotten.

He howls, tries to fight though the pain,but his body doesn't budge,even as the fourth arrow comes flying into just close to his neck. A narrow escape.

A wounded sound escapes him, front claws scraping deep into the ground as he tries to regain balance. He struggles though the haze, massive body, struggling to move,

But he only seems to be pulled deeper and deeper, the numbness creeping into his muscles, making him unable to move as a chilling realization slams into him.

The arrows are poisoned!