Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7: THE PRESS CONFERENCE 

The television glows blue in the dark room. We turned off the lights an hour ago. Darius will speak soon. I want to see him clearly. I want to memorize every lie.

Kael sits beside me on the floor. Not the couch. Too far. The rug is rough against my legs. His shoulder presses against mine. Warm. Solid.

"Tell me about him," I say.

"Who?"

"Darius. You knew him before."

Kael is quiet. The television hums. Static. Waiting.

"We were allies once," Kael says. "The territories were smaller. Enemies on all sides. We fought together. Bled together."

"What happened?"

"Power." Hard. Sharp. "He wanted it. I wanted peace. We became what we are."

I turn to look at him. Screen light paints his face blue and shadow. The burns. The scar through his eyebrow.

"Why do you hate him? Really?"

Kael's hands fist on his knees. Large hands. They shake.

"My sister," he says. "Celeste. Luna of the South. Good. Kind. She believed in Darius. Believed he could be better."

I wait. I know this ends badly.

"He used her," Kael says. "Her territory. Her connections. Her love. When she was no longer useful, he arranged an accident. Car crash. Full moon. Silver in the fuel line."

"Silver?"

"Wolves burn on silver. She shifted to heal. Could not. Died screaming." His voice does not change. His hands shake harder. "I challenged him. Duel to the death. The council stopped us. Said wait for the election. Wait for law."

"How long?"

"Three years." Kael looks at me. His eyes are wolf. Yellow. Feral. "I have waited. Planned. And now you are here. The weapon I did not expect."

"I am not a weapon," I say.

"No." The yellow fades. "You are a Queen. That is worse. For him."

The television changes. Darius appears. Outside. Night. Torches burning. Dramatic. Calculated.

He wears black. Mourning. For me. For the wife who betrayed him.

"Thank you for coming," Darius says. Strong. Certain. "I know you have heard stories. I am here to tell the truth."

Lila stands beside him. Tissue in hand. Eyes red. Crying on command.

"Seven years ago," Darius says, "I married a woman I thought I loved. Seraphina. An orphan. Lost. I gave her my name. My home. My heart."

I laugh. Broken. Kael's hand finds mine. Rough. Warm. There.

"She was troubled," Darius continues. "Paranoia. Delusions. She believed she was royal. Important. She would make claims. I thought it was stress. I thought I could help."

He pauses. Looks down. Gathers himself. Perfect.

"Then she became violent," he says. "Jealous. She accused me of affairs. Of plots. She threatened my stepsister, Lila. Threatened our son."

"Our son," I whisper. "Not my son."

"She took Marcus yesterday," Darius says. His voice cracks. Perfectly. "Fled with him. I fear for his safety. I fear for hers."

The camera cuts to Lila. She steps forward. Brave. Fragile. The woman I fed. Clothed. Comforted.

"Seraphina was always strange," Lila says. Soft. Pitying. "She would talk to herself. See things. Once she said she was the long-lost Princess. That she would be Queen. I thought it was a joke. Now I see it was sickness."

"She lies," I say. Too loud. "She knows I am the Princess. They both know."

Kael's hand tightens. "He knows you are watching. He wants you angry. Reckless. He wants you to scream. To prove his story."

I bite my lip. Hard. Taste blood.

"Tonight," Darius says, "I am filing for emergency custody. I am petitioning the council to evaluate Seraphina's fitness to stand for any title. She is not well. She needs help, not power."

Reporters shout. Darius raises his hand.

"I love my wife," he says. "But I cannot enable her illness. Cannot let her hurt our son. If she is watching—" he looks into the camera, at me "—please, my love. Come home. Let us help you. Before someone gets hurt."

The screen cuts to black. Analysts. Talking heads. Discussing my madness. My danger. My husband's bravery.

I stand. Legs shake. I walk to the window. Dark outside. Forest. Safety. Prison.

"He is good," I say. Flat.

"He is desperate," Kael says. Behind me. Close. Not touching. "He knows you escaped. Knows you will register tomorrow. He is trying to stop you."

"Will it work?"

"The council is old. Traditional. They do not like scandal." Kael's breath is warm on my neck. "But they like power more. You have power. Real power. They will listen."

I turn. Face him. Close. Too close. Gold in his gray eyes. Pulse in his throat.

"What if he is right?" The words slip out. Weak. "What if I am crazy? What if I cannot do this?"

Kael looks at me. Long. Hard. Raises his hand. Slow. Gives me time to pull away.

I do not.

His palm touches my cheek. Rough. Warm. Calloused. Tilts my face up. Makes me meet his eyes.

"You escaped a burning house," he says. "Crawled through a tunnel. Stood before a microphone and claimed a crown you did not know you owned. You did not break. You did not beg. You fought."

His thumb traces my cheekbone. Gentle. From such hard hands.

"That is not madness," he says. "That is strength. That is a Queen."

My breath catches. Heart hammers. Not fear. Something else. Something dangerous.

"Kael," I whisper.

He drops his hand. Steps back. The moment breaks.

"We should sleep," he says. Rough. "Tomorrow we fight. You need rest."

He walks to the door. Pauses. Does not turn.

"Fina."

"Yes?"

"I do not believe him. I believe you. Remember that. When you doubt. I believe you."

Then he is gone. The door closes. Soft. Final.

I stand at the window. Alone. The forest is dark. Full of wolves.

But inside, something small glows. Something I thought Darius killed.

Hope.

Not for the crown. Not for revenge.

For trust. For partnership. For someone who sees me and does not look away.

My phone buzzes. Unknown number. I answer.

"Princess." A woman's voice. Old. Cracked. "Do not trust the East Alpha. Do not trust anyone. Come to the old church at midnight. Come alone. I know where your mother is. I know the truth about Kael's war crimes. I know everything."

The line dies.

I stare at the phone. Midnight. Two hours away. Alone.

The woman knows about my mother. About Kael.

Truth or trap?

I look at the door Kael walked through. At the hand that touched my face.

Then I look at the window. At the dark.

Midnight.

I will go.