Chapter 7: The King's Fury

POV: Aria

The throne room is massive with vaulted ceilings and stone pillars carved with wolves and moons. Tapestries show battles I don't recognize. At the far end sits a throne made of dark wood and iron, currently empty.

The council sits at a long table to the right of the throne, twelve of them, eleven men and one woman. All older. All watching me with expressions ranging from curiosity to outright hostility.

Aldric is easy to spot at the head of the council table with his grey hair slicked back and his ice-blue eyes cold as he tracks my entrance. He's older than I expected, maybe sixty in human years though with Lycans who knows what that means. His face is all sharp angles and disapproval.

The woman sits at the opposite end with dark skin, silver-streaked hair in a crown of braids, and amber eyes that assess me carefully. She doesn't look hostile, just cautious.

Guards line the walls, at least twenty of them, all armed and all watching me.

Kova leads me to the center of the room where a single chair sits isolated, facing both the council and the empty throne.

"Sit," Kova whispers.

I do and my hands grip the armrests to stop them from shaking.

Kova takes her place behind me and I feel her presence like an anchor.

Aldric stands.

"Council is now in session," he announces with his voice echoing through the chamber. "We are here to address the matter of the hybrid currently residing in Nightfall Keep."

He doesn't use my name, just "the hybrid," like I'm not even human enough to deserve one.

"Test results were confirmed this morning," he continues. "The subject carries both Lycan and witch bloodlines. She is, by definition and law, a forbidden hybrid."

Murmurs ripple through the council.

"The law is clear. Hybrids are not permitted to exist within Shadowpeak Territory. They are to be executed upon discovery. No exceptions."

"She didn't know," the woman speaks up with her voice calm but firm. "She was raised human. How can we execute her for something she had no knowledge of?"

"Ignorance doesn't change what she is, Councilor Mira," Aldric responds. "A rabid wolf doesn't know it's rabid. We still put it down before it spreads disease."

My nails dig into the armrests.

"She's not a rabid wolf," Mira argues. "She's a young woman who..."

"Will eventually lose control of her conflicting bloodlines and kill innocents," Aldric interrupts. "It's happened before. Multiple times. The Burning wasn't that long ago. Some of us still remember."

Several council members nod.

"The King's father implemented these laws for a reason," another councilor adds, a man with a scarred face and hard eyes. "To protect our people. To prevent another catastrophe."

"And those laws have served us well," Aldric agrees. "Which is why we cannot make exceptions. Not even for the King's fascination."

"It's not fascination," Mira says sharply. "She's his fated mate. The connection..."

"Is irrelevant," Aldric cuts her off. "Plenty of Lycans have lived without their fated mates. The King himself did so for twenty years. He can do so again."

My chest tightens.

"You're suggesting we execute his mate," Mira says slowly. "You understand what that will do to him?"

"It will hurt, but he'll survive. He's stronger now than he was twenty years ago. And this time, he'll have had no choice in the matter. The council will have acted in accordance with law. His hands will be clean."

"His hands won't feel clean," someone mutters.

"That's not our concern. Our concern is the kingdom, the people, the law. And the law says she dies."

He looks directly at me for the first time and his ice-blue eyes hold nothing but cold certainty.

"Do you have anything to say in your defense?" he asks.

I open my mouth and close it.

What can I say? That I'm not dangerous when I don't even know if that's true? That I deserve to live when they've already decided I don't?

"I didn't ask to be this way," I finally say and my voice sounds small in the huge chamber. "I didn't ask to be born. I didn't ask to cross into your territory. I just wanted to escape someone who hurt me."

"And in escaping, you brought a greater danger here," Aldric says. "Your intentions don't matter. Your existence does."

"So you'll kill me for being born wrong? For having blood I didn't choose?"

"We'll kill you to protect our people from what you'll inevitably become."

"You don't know what I'll become!"

"History tells us exactly what you'll become." Aldric's voice hardens. "A monster. A killer. An abomination that..."

BOOM.

The doors don't open, they explode inward.

The sound is deafening. Wood splinters. Metal hinges screech. The doors slam against the walls so hard the stone cracks.

Power floods the room like ice water, ancient and absolute and overwhelming.

My skin breaks out in goosebumps and my birthmark flares hot. The air pressure changes and makes my ears pop.

Every wolf in the room drops their eyes automatically, like they can't help it.

Even the guards along the walls bow their heads. Even Aldric's gaze falls to the floor.

It's instinct, submission to a superior predator.

King Valerian stands in the doorway and his eyes are crimson.

Not just touched with red like they were last night when his control slipped, but fully and completely crimson. Both eyes with no gold left at all.

His beast is at the surface and the rage rolling off him could level cities.

He's bare-chested again, wearing only black pants and boots with his hair loose around his shoulders. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides and I can see his claws fully extended, black and sharp and lethal.

He takes one step into the room and the temperature drops.

Another step and the guards against the walls press themselves flatter with heads bowed lower.

When he speaks, his voice is death given sound.

"Finish that sentence, Aldric. I dare you."

Aldric's mouth opens and closes and opens again. No sound comes out.

Valerian's gaze sweeps the room and I feel it when those crimson eyes land on me, feel the weight of his fury not at me but for me.

The anger in those eyes isn't directed at me at all. It's protective. Possessive. Lethal.

"Anyone," he says with lethal calm that's somehow more terrifying than shouting, "who touches my mate dies screaming. Is. That. Clear?"