Talon’s mouth went dry. His survival instincts screamed at him to end this now but Luna needed to know. "I am afraid that discussion is for the princess alone," he said, bowing slightly.
Damien’s fingers twitched on the window frame. "Do you plan on dying today, Beta Talon?" Damien asked softly. "You come into my land, my kingdom, to see my mate and you..." he extended a pale hand through the window, "hand me the card."
Talon winced. "Alpha Kyllian does not know I am here. He will kill me if he finds out I am here."
"Oh good," Damien drawled, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. "So everyone wants to kill you today. Excellent plan, Beta."
"What is the matter? You might as well tell me, because you cannot see the princess."
Talon swallowed hard, heart pounding. "The bond is not broken," he said at last.
Damien’s eyes widened, just slightly—but the crack in his calm façade was undeniable. A chill rippled through the air. For a moment, he didn’t breathe.
He had marked Luna. Claimed her. And still—still—the tie between her and Kyllian remained intact?
Was he ever going to catch a break?
Damien leaned back in his seat, his eyes clouded with a storm of thoughts. His jaw worked wordlessly as his mind churned.
Of course. The mark might not be fully recognized. Not if her other mate was a werewolf.
"You’ve got to be kidding me," he muttered, mostly to himself.
Talon stood awkwardly outside the car.
"Well... I’ll be damned..." Damien muttered, leaning his head back against the leather seat and gazing at the car’s ceiling. "What does your alpha say about this?"
Talon stiffened. This was the part he had dreaded—the questioning. The cross-examination. "Please understand that I am breaking my loyalty by even being here," he said quickly, hands raised slightly in surrender. "I cannot say. I just need to know how to fix this."
But Damien already knew. He didn’t need Talon’s explanation. He didn’t need visions or prophecies or even a report. He knew the mind of the stubborn Alpha pup who had the audacity to be Luna’s other mate. Kyllian would hold onto the bond until it killed him—or drove him so mad he set the world on fire just to feel something. The kind of love that refused to break, even when it hurt everyone involved.
Damien exhaled slowly, biting down the instinct to bare his fangs. "I’ll handle it," he said.
Talon blinked. "You... will?"
"You can leave." Damien flicked his hand. "Keep an eye on him though. And I promise," he added with a hint of a smirk, "I will not let him find out about our little meeting."
Talon released the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. "Thank you, Your Highness."
The car rolled away as silently as it had come, leaving Talon in a puddle of relief and existential dread.
Across the city, inside a dimly lit chamber with walls thick enough to muffle the screams of history, Sage Veyron sat at a narrow, oval table with four elders.
They only gathered when things got dire—when threats crept in.
"The prince is in mortal danger," Veyron announced, breaking the heavy silence.
One of the elders, leaned forward. "How?" he asked, eyes narrowing beneath a forest of white brows.
"I cannot say," Veyron replied evenly, though his fingers twitched in his lap. He hated secrets. "But he isn’t going to make it. He promised to make things right before his time is up. But I would like us to make a backup plan as to who succeeds the throne."
"Backup?" another elder echoed. "Are you telling us the heir to the Blood Kingdom is going to...die?"
Veyron nodded solemnly.
The elders exchanged looks. Political earthquakes were brewing, and if Damien fell, they would need to plug the cracks before the kingdom split down the middle.
Sage Veyron sat perfectly still as one of the elders, a thin woman, finally spoke.
"We did hear that he has fixed things with his mate," she said, tapping her fingers together. "If there is a child in their future, a hybrid cannot succeed as our ruler. Loyalties will be divided. It has to be a true blood."
Veyron felt his teeth grit behind a composed smile. So predictable. These elders cared more about blood purity than the collapsing structure of the very realm they were sworn to protect.
He leaned forward. "I think the point is we need to keep Gabriel from the throne," he said. "Not debating which of the prince’s unborn children will take it."
One elder—a man so ancient his beard seemed fused to his collar—snorted. "Our objective is to protect our own existence," he croaked, "even if it means going against the throne."
"You just said Prince Damien will not live long enough," he continued, wagging a crooked finger at Veyron. "So we need someone else on the throne, and it sure as hell is not going to be a hybrid."
The woman spoke again. "The prince has a Royal concubine, does he not? I know that they have been trying for a child." Her eyes gleamed. "Can we get the concubine on our side?" f.r(e)e\webn.ovel.co\m
"The concubine is also a true blood," Veyron stated, forcing his voice to remain even. "It is why she was chosen as a Royal concubine."
"Bringing the existence of this group to a true blood is risking everything we are working toward," Veyron warned, sharper now. "The moment she learns what we are—what we intend—she becomes a threat. Or worse... a liability."
"I know a maid in the Blood Castle," the previous elder said. "I can ask around for information."
Veyron suppressed a sigh and nodded tightly. "And I will press on our prince to see to it that he remembers a hybrid will have issues taking the throne."
He didn’t even try to mask the weariness in his tone. He’d rather wrestle a flame-happy dragon than have that particular conversation with Damien. Every time Luna’s name came up, the prince lost all sense of political strategy. How exactly was he supposed to argue against a man who chose love over legacy?