Chapter 15
Jul 4, 2025
They summoned him to the King’s council chamber at dawn. I waited behind the tapestries. I needed to hear it for myself.
I knew it was forbidden to eavesdrop on a royal council, especially one packed with generals, lords, and the Elders—but rules didn’t matter when your future was on the line.
Toren stood at the head of the long obsidian table, the morning sun slicing through the stained glass and landing like judgment across the room. His crown was tilted slightly forward—more warlord than monarch—and his glare could’ve frozen fire.
Cassian stood at the opposite end. He didn’t bow. He never did. His hands were behind his back, his chin lifted, the torn edge of his court cloak still stained with blood from the night of the reckoning.
The King’s voice cut through the silence. “Your reign is not inevitable, Prince. Your blood may be Dire—but it is not divine.”
Cassian didn’t flinch.
“You would risk centuries of peace,” Toren continued, “for a curse-touched Omega?”
The council chamber was silent except for the scratch of a quill somewhere. Then General Horne spoke. “She’s dangerous. We’ve seen it. The beast inside you bows only to her voice. That is not a mate—it’s a weakness.”
A lord near the window scoffed. “You think the Western packs will kneel to a prince who cowers in an Omega’s arms during a blood moon?”
Another elder leaned forward, his knuckles white on the table’s edge. “You cannot rule if the people believe you’ve been bewitched.”
Cassian’s jaw flexed. “I’ve not been bewitched.”
A low murmur rippled through the room. One of the generals muttered, “He speaks as if we’re fools.”
“She walked into your chamber unscathed,” someone else said. “And walked out with the beast on its knees. What else would you call that?”
Cassian’s voice was low but razor-sharp. “I’d call it mercy. Not weakness.”
“No?” Toren snapped. “Then prove it. Marry Lady Vaela. Seal an alliance the West will respect. Restore the dignity of your line. And send the Omega back to Valen.”
My hands fisted in the curtain.
Valen. Again. Like I was some parcel to be returned to sender.
“Let the West see,” Toren said slowly, deliberately, “that you know how to choose loyalty over lust.”
Lust. That’s what they thought this was.
“You think this is about lust?” Cassian said, and his voice was low and dangerous. “You think I would bind myself to her in front of gods and wolves alike for desire alone?”
“She is not a wife,” a noble snapped. “She’s a political liability.”
“She’s a miracle,” Cassian shot back. “You just don’t understand her.”
“You sound mad,” one of the old priests said, leaning on his cane. “You kneel for her like a starving dog.”
Cassian’s eyes flared. “I kneel to no one. I chose her. That bond is sacred.”
“Sacred,” the King scoffed. “You use that word while defying every law of blood. She was raised without name, without land, without mark. You forget what power demands.”
“I forget nothing,” Cassian growled. “I remember every night she was locked away. Every lie you let them tell. Every bruise on her skin. And I remember the way she held me when my bones shattered under your cursed moon.”
A stunned hush dropped over the room. Chairs shifted. Eyes narrowed.
Lord Varrick stood abruptly. “Do you expect us to accept an Omega as our future Queen? What would that say to our sons? Our daughters?”
Another barked, “It would say that tradition is dead.”
Toren’s voice was cold steel. “And now you spit in the face of tradition. For what? Love?”
“If love is a threat to this court,” Cassian said slowly, “then maybe it deserves to be ruined.”
Gasps. Audible and sharp. Someone cursed under their breath. The priest dropped his cane in shock. And still Cassian stood, unmoved, shoulders squared like a wall refusing to fall.
“Her presence in this castle is a disgrace,” General Horne said, slamming his palm on the table. “We are asking for sanity, not sentiment.”
“No,” Cassian said. “You’re asking me to lie.”
Toren leaned forward. “Lie, then. Like every ruler before you. Choose what is necessary.”
“I already have,” Cassian said.
A tremble passed through the Elders. Someone hissed, “He’s gone.”
I pressed my forehead against the cold stone wall. Every word was a lash. Every silence worse.
Cassian didn’t speak for a long moment. The silence stretched so long I thought maybe he would fold. Maybe he’d say nothing at all.
Then he said, clear as a blade:
“No.”
The room exploded.
