Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The plan had been set in motion since Theron's father had assumed the throne but they had never done much about it because he had no power. One would think that the crown prince would be next to the king in power but no—the council, his father's closest advisors had more power than he did.

But Theron was determined to be different. The constant wars for instance were exhausting and he sought to put an end to that. But he needed power, even been on the throne was not enough. He had to change the order of things.

Theron let out a deep sigh as he approached his tent—their tent. He peered into it to check if Commander Cæl was inside already. He was anxious to see her face now that she must have learned that he was getting married.

“Why should he care?” Riel, his wolf said.

“Because… because…” but the words were stuck in his throat. He knew what he wanted to say but it sounded absurd even in his own thoughts.

_Because he must have felt it too. Cæl had kissed him back after all_

“You're imagining things, Theron,” Riel said back.

“I am not,” Theron insisted, “Cæl kissed me back. It was… there was chemistry between the both of us.”

“And he slapped you, remember?” Riel reminded him, “he slapped you so hard that you landed on your buttocks on the ground. Your bottom is still sore from the fall.”

Theron winced involuntarily as he remembered the fall. He tried to push it all away from his mind. There was no use dwelling on such insignificant details.

He crashed into his blanket, quite tired from the day’s event. Theron stretched and yawned but he noticed something unusual about the blanket he lay on. It felt slightly bumpy and with his weight in it, it felt like something was poking him. He stood up to investigate and pulled off a layer from the blanket and saw a note book underneath it.

He opened it and looked for the words that had been marked on the first page, then fifth, then seventh and sixtieth. He searched a table close to him for a pen and paper to decode the message in the book. He scribbled as he opened the pages.

_The council is recruiting Cæl._

Theron popped the paper into his mouth, chewed on it until it was torn into pieces, them swallowed it. He put the book away from him and looked up at the top of the tent above him. The tent swayed gently as the strong winds outside pushed it to move.

Cæl.

If they were able to recruit Cæl, it would feel like a knife through his chest. But what did it matter? It was not like a betrayal. Technically, those who were recruited by the council were swayed with words that did not suggest treason. They would always say things like, _the greater good_, Theron is a baby_, He’s not fit to rule yet_.

All bullcrap!

The more Theron thought of it, the more incensed he got. He did not think that he could stand having someone so close to him, work directly with his father's old buddies.

He sat up on the blanket when he heard heavy footsteps approaching the tent. The steps appeared to be in a hurry yet Theron could identify the familiar pattern of the steps—Commander Cæl.

Cæl walked into the tent with an expression that looked between angry and disappointed. But Theron could care less. He was angry, he was not sure at whom but he was angry about the possibility of Cæl working for the council.

“Where have you been?” Theron asked, not waiting for Cæl to settle down, “you should be on the battlefield avenging our soldiers that have died and you're here…”

“Where I am is none of your business!” her voice was laced with guile. Theron stood up, ready to remind Cæl that he was the Supreme Alpha and if Cæl dared to defy him there would be immense consequences. But he noticed at once that Cæl’s left ear was bleeding and his resolve softened. However, his suspicion grew.

“Are you okay?” he asked Cæl, his eyes fixated on the blood soaked ear.

But this made no sense. If Cæl was coming from the council and they had hurt him, did that mean he had rejected their offer?

His heart leaped at the possibility of that being the case. It would mean that Cæl was loyal to him and that he…

“Stop reading too much meaning into a bloodied ear!” Riel warned him.

“Commander Cæl, are you alright? What happened to your ear?” he asked again because he had ignored his question the first time.

Cæl looked up at him, into his eyes filled with fury and asked, “why the bloody hell do you care? When you sent me to the frontlines, was it not with hope that I might die?”

“I… I…” but the words were stuck in his throat. He could not bring himself to say them. He would look like a bloody hypocrite if he apologised now.

“I'll get something to clean the wound,” he finally said, guilt weighing heavy on his mind. He wished he could do more, say more, find out what was really going through Cæl’s mind but he feared that any question he asked would only infuriate Cæl further.

“Why bloody bother? We both know you want me dead!”