Chapter 54: Obsessed

Maddox POV

The council chamber felt smaller than usual.

Maddox shifted in his chair at the head of the long wooden table, his fingers drumming against the armrest. The windows were open, letting in a cool breeze that carried the scent of melting snow and damp earth.

Spring was coming. The world was waking up. And he was trapped inside, listening to droning voices recite a litany of problems he did not have the patience to solve.

Emrich sat to his right, a stack of parchment before him, his quill scratching notes in the margins. The other advisors filled the remaining seats, old men with grey beards and younger wolves with ambitious eyes. They talked over each other, argued about details, and presented petitions that seemed to multiply by the hour.

Maddox's mind drifted.

He thought of Hecate. The way she had looked at him that morning across the breakfast table, her dark eyes soft, her lips still slightly swollen from his kisses. The way she had laughed at something Aileen said, a real laugh, unguarded and warm. The way her hand had felt in his, small and strong and perfectly fitted.

"The Grayfang Pack has submitted a request for additional grain shipments," one of the advisors was saying. "Their stores are running low, and the winter was harder than anticipated."

Maddox blinked, forcing himself back to the present. "How much do they need?"

"Three shipments. Enough to last until the summer harvest."

"Send two. And inform Alpha Kaelen that I expect him to increase textile exports to Wildheart in exchange. The balance must be maintained."

The advisor nodded and made a note.

Another spoke up. "Wildheart has lodged a formal complaint against Alpha Orion of Obsidian. They claim Orion insulted Alpha Torin during a recent visit. Torin is demanding an apology."

Maddox pinched the bridge of his nose. Torin was difficult at the best of times. Orion was stubborn but fair. This was likely a misunderstanding blown out of proportion.

"Tell Torin that if he wants an apology, he can come here and present his case in person. I will not mediate petty squabbles by correspondence."

The room shifted in their seats, some nodding in approval, others exchanging glances.

"There is also a matter from Riverpack," said a younger advisor near the end of the table. "Alpha Soren's son has requested the king's consent to marry the daughter of Alpha Garrath of Midnight Pack."

Maddox raised an eyebrow. "And what does the young woman think of this arrangement?"

The advisor hesitated. "The request did not specify her opinion, Your Majesty."

"Then write back to Soren. Tell him that before I grant consent, I want to know if the girl wants him too. I will not force a mating bond for political convenience."

Emrich glanced at him, a flicker of approval in his eyes.

The meeting dragged on. Border disputes. Trade negotiations. Reports of rogue activity along the eastern frontier. Maddox answered each question, issued each decree, signed each document. But his heart was not in it.

His heart was somewhere else, walking through the castle corridors in black velvet robes, dark hair falling across a pale face.

When the last advisor finally rose and bowed, Maddox felt a wave of relief wash over him.

The door closed behind the council members, and Emrich remained.

He set down his quill and leaned back in his chair, studying the king with an expression that was equal parts frustration and concern.

"You were not paying attention," Emrich said. It was not a question.

"I heard everything."

"You heard words. You did not listen to them. There is a difference." Emrich shuffled the papers before him. "Torin will not come here to present his case. He is too proud. Too stubborn. He will see it as a slight and hold a grudge for years."

"Then let him hold a grudge. I am tired of coddling him."

"And Grayfang? Two shipments will not be enough. They will be back with another request before the snow melts."

"Then they will be back. And I will deal with it then."

Emrich was silent for a moment. Then he set down his quill entirely and turned to face Maddox directly.

"You are distracted," Emrich said. "More than usual. And I think I know why."

Maddox's jaw tightened. "Do not."

"I am your Beta. It is my duty to speak honestly with you, even when you do not want to hear it." Emrich's voice was calm, steady. "This thing with Hecate. This connection you feel. It is not going away. Pretending it does not exist will not make it easier."

Maddox rose from his chair and walked to the window, staring out at the courtyard below. Servants hurried across the stones. A cart loaded with firewood creaked toward the kitchens. Somewhere, a child laughed.

"I cannot stop thinking about her," Maddox admitted, his voice low. "Every moment of every day. She is in my head. In my chest. Under my skin." He pressed his palm against his sternum, feeling the pendant beneath his shirt. "I have felt this before. Only once. And it ended badly."

Emrich rose and stood beside him. "Samantha."

The name hung in the air like smoke.

"I loved her," Maddox said. "Or I thought I did. But I was not honest with her. I kept secrets. I let her believe things that were not true." He shook his head. "I drove her away. And by the time I realized what I had lost, she was gone."

"That was three years ago."

"Guilt does not have a calendar, Emrich."

Emrich was quiet for a moment. Then he placed a hand on Maddox's shoulder.

"You are not the same man you were three years ago. And Hecate is not Samantha." He paused. "Or perhaps she is more like Samantha than you realize."

Maddox turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"

Emrich held his gaze for a moment longer, then shook his head. "Nothing. Just... do not let fear keep you from something that could be good. Love is rare. If you feel this connection, do not let it slip away because you are afraid of repeating the past."

Maddox stared at him, searching for the meaning behind his words. But Emrich's expression was unreadable.

"I should write those letters," Emrich said, stepping back. "The responses to the alphas. Their concerns must be addressed."

He gathered the papers from the table and walked toward the door.

"Emrich," Maddox called after him.

Emrich paused, his hand on the frame.

"Thank you," Maddox said. "For your honesty."

Emrich nodded and left.

The door closed with a soft click, and Maddox was alone.

He returned to the window, watching the world move below him. The spring festival was approaching. The snow was melting. And somewhere in the castle, Hecate was going about her day, healing the sick, mixing her potions, living her life.

He wanted to go to her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her that he did not care about the consequences, that he would risk everything for the chance to be with her.

But he was the king. He had duties. Responsibilities. A wife who was slowly recovering from an illness he had caused. A kingdom that depended on him to keep it stable.

Love was rare. Emrich was right about that.

But so was redemption. And Maddox was not sure he deserved either.

He pressed his hand to the pendant against his chest, feeling the warmth of Samantha's blood beneath his palm.

Then he turned from the window and walked back to his desk. There was work to do. There was always work to do.