Chapter 6 - Blood and Recompense
reflexes of an awakened Alpha King.
Before Valyrias could take a second step, Theron moved. A streak of black velvet and blinding speed.
CLANG.
Theron intercepted Valyrias mid-air, his bare hand slamming around Valyrias’s wrist with bone-crushing force. The dagger flew from Valyrias’s hand, spinning through the air before embedding itself deep into the wooden floorboards.
Valyrias let out a shrill scream of agony as Theron twisted his arm back until a sickening snap echoed across the silent ballroom. Theron didn’t stop there. With a single, effortless motion, he hoisted his traitorous cousin off the ground by his collar, lifting him bodily into the air.
“You conspired against your blood,” Theron whispered, his voice dangerously low, vibrating with icy fury. “You starved my people. And, worst of all, you laid your filthy hands on what is mine.”
With a savage sweep, Theron hurled Valyrias across the marble floor. The former Regent skipped and crashed hard against the base of the obsidian throne, spitting a mouthful of blood before collapsing into an unmoving heap.
Silence swallowed the hall once more. Not a single noble dared to draw a breath.
Theron slowly turned around, adjusting the cuffs of his doublet before stepping down from the dais. He walked back to Ara, his golden eyes softening as he looked down at her. He could sense the internal turmoil raging beneath her calm exterior, the lingering doubts sown by Valyrias’s dying confession.
Without hesitation, Theron reached out, gently cupping her face in his warm palms.
“Listen to me, Ara,” he said softly, ensuring only she could hear his words over the quiet hum of the room. “It matters not what blood flows through your veins, nor what ancient pact brought you to my side. You are not a weapon of a curse. You are the heartbeat that brought me back to the light.”
Tears welled up in Ara’s eyes, spilling over her lashes. For her entire life, she had been told she was worthless, wolfless, and broken. Now, the most powerful Alpha in the northern kingdoms looked at her as if she were the entire world.
“I was never trained to be a queen,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
“You don’t need training to rule with a just heart,” Theron replied firmly. He turned her right wrist over, pressing his lips gently against the glowing crescent mark. “The north needs a ruler who knows the suffering of the floor, not just the luxury of the throne.”
Behind them, Kale stepped forward, clearing his throat respectfully as he nudged the groaning, restrained sorcerers toward the exit. “Sire, what are your orders for the remaining conspirators?”
May you like
Theron straightened up, his Alpha presence commanding the entire room once again. He looked out over the sea of nobility, many of whom were now frantically dropping to their knees in spontaneous submission, desperate to prove their loyalty to the newly restored crown.
“Lock the traitors in the lower dungeons,” Theron commanded, his voice echoing authoritatively. “As for the rest of you… the Mourning Ball is officially over. Tomorrow, we begin rebuilding what was broken.”
