Chapter 5 - BLADE AND CLAW
Chaos erupted in the grand banquet hall in a single, violently electric second.
Several corrupt guards stationed near the dais drew their weapons and lunged forward, but they hadn't factored in the sheer, terrifying speed of an enraged Alpha King.
Rhett moved like a striking predator. Before Graves’s men could take three steps, Rhett intercepted the lead attacker, his broadsword flashing in the torchlight with a blinding arc of steel. With a brutal, echoing crunch, Rhett parried the guard's strike, spun fluidly, and slammed the pommel of his sword directly into the man's chestplate, sending him crashing backward over a banquet table in a shower of shattered porcelain and roasted fowl.
"Protect the king!" Commander Vane roared, leading the loyalist guards into the fray.
Steel clashed against steel, the metallic ringing filling the hall alongside the shouts of fighting men and the terrified screams of nobles scrambling for the exits.
On the dais, Lord Graves bypassed his own guards, lunging directly toward Sally with his broadsword raised high overhead, a murderous grimace distorting his scarred features. "I'll carve the secret out of your throat myself, you little nobody!"
Sally didn't panic. Deep within her consciousness, Rue rose like a tidal wave of silver fire.
Let him come, Rue purred.
As Graves brought his heavy blade down in a vicious overhead arc meant to cleave her in two, Sally sidestepped with preternatural grace—a movement guided entirely by the wolf's ancient instincts. The heavy sword struck the wooden floorboards with a dull thud, splintering the oak.
Before Graves could pull his blade free, Sally reached into her pocket, withdrew the heavy iron inkwell she had slipped into her skirt fold, and smashed it with all her might directly across Graves’s nose.
A sickening crunch echoed through the air as Graves howled in pain, stumbling backward, blood gushing freely across his teeth and beard.
Before he could recover, a towering, golden shadow seemed to detach itself from the chaotic room—Fen’s psychic presence manifesting so powerfully in the air that the very temperature in the hall plummeted. And right beside her, Rhett appeared like an avenging deity.
Rhett grabbed Graves by the collar of his expensive velvet tunic, lifting the struggling traitor completely off his feet with a single, furious heave. The king’s golden eyes burned with terrifying intensity.
"You plotted against my crown. You threatened my people. And worst of all..." Rhett’s voice dropped to a low, deathly whisper that carried across the entire hushed hall, "...you raised a hand against my mate."
With a brutal flick of his wrist, Rhett hurled Graves across the dais. The traitor crashed hard against the stone pillars supporting the grand mantelpiece, sliding down into a pathetic heap, his sword clattering away across the floor.
Vane’s guards moved in instantly, pinning Graves’s arms behind his back and snapping heavy iron manacles around his wrists.
The fighting in the hall ground to an abrupt, breathless halt. The remaining corrupt guards, seeing their leader captured and the loyalist phalanx surrounding them, dropped their weapons to the stone floor and raised their hands in surrender.
Heavy silence settled over the grand hall once more, broken only by the crackle of the hearth fire and the heavy breathing of the victors.
Rhett stood in the center of the dais, his chest heaving slightly under his blood-spattered breastplate, his hair slightly disheveled. He slowly sheathed his sword, the metallic click sounding like thunder in the quiet room.
He turned his gaze away from the cowering traitor and locked eyes with Sally, who stood amidst the wreckage of the banquet, breathing steadily, holding her satchel of evidence like a badge of honor.
The nobility stared in absolute awe. The whispers of doubt, the cruel remarks about her low birth, the murmurs of her being an unblooded foundling—all of it vanished, burned away in the crucible of truth and combat. They weren't looking at an abandoned orphan anymore. They were looking at the woman who had saved the crown.
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Rhett walked slowly across the dais, stepping past the captive Graves, and descended the stone steps toward Sally. He stopped right in front of her, the mating bond roaring between them like a blazing hearth, filling the cold hall with undeniable warmth.
Without a single word, Rhett dropped gracefully to one knee before her on the blood-spattered floorboards of the grand hall, taking her hand in his.
