Chapter 3 - The East Tower's Shadow
The East Tower was everything the servants' quarters were not.
In the basement where Aloan had spent the last six years, the air was perpetually damp, smelling of mildew, lard, and the bitter lye soap used to wash the Citadel's endless linens. Her bed had been a thin sack stuffed with dry straw that rustled loudly every time she turned, placed in a corner behind the wine casks.
The Solar Suite, by contrast, was blinding.
Massive arched windows stretched from the floor to the vaulted ceiling, offering a breathtaking view of the Silver Crest mountains, their sharp peaks dusted in eternal snow beneath a violet twilight sky. A massive four-poster bed made of polished cherry wood stood against the north wall, draped in heavy, dark blue velvet blankets that looked softer than anything Aloan had ever dared touch.
"You may sit down, you know," Callum’s voice came from the doorway.
Aloan jumped, spinning around. She was still wearing her stained gray servant's dress, looking entirely out of place amidst the silver chandeliers and gilded mirror frames.
The three wolves had already made themselves at home. Aster, the giant white wolf, had curled up directly in front of the massive stone fireplace, his thick tail tucked over his nose. Briar lay across the entryway like a massive, living rug, forcing anyone who wished to enter to step over his dark bulk. Sol, the crown-bearer, sat perched on the wide stone sill of the arched window, looking out over the kingdom with silent, majestic intensity.
"I... I don't want to ruin the velvet, Your Majesty," Aloan murmured, gesturing weakly to her dress.
Callum sighed, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his broad chest. Up close, without the crown and the formal royal mantle, he looked less like an untouchable deity and more like a man carrying an exhausting, crushing weight.
"You just stood down thirty Alphas and summoned three legendary entities from the ancient realm," Callum said, a faint smile touching his lips. "I think the blue velvet can survive your apron, Aloan."
Aloan hesitated, then slowly sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress yielded beneath her weight with incredible softness, making her feel as though she were floating.
"Why are you being kind to me?" she asked softly, looking up into his silver-gray eyes. "Counselor Malcolm wants me dead. Graham wants to butcher me. The other nobles looked at me as if I were a diseased rodent."
"Malcolm is an idiot who thinks power is measured in how hard a man can strike a table with his fist," Callum said bluntly, stepping into the room. Briar lifted his dark head, sniffed Callum's boots, and then lowered his head back down, allowing the King to pass—a subtle mark of respect that did not go unnoticed by Callum.
"And Graham Prescott?" Aloan asked.
"Graham is dangerous," Callum replied, his expression darkening. "Iron Ridge controls forty percent of our grain supply and half our iron mines. His father, Duke Vane Prescott, will not take this humiliation lightly. By tomorrow morning, messengers will be flying across the realm. They will claim I am using an unbonded Omega to steal the sacred rights of the noble houses."
"Then let me leave," Aloan said quickly, standing up. "Sire, I never asked for this! Take the stone, take the tower, give the wolves to someone else! I can leave Silver Crest tonight. I can go south, across the river—"
GRRRR.
The low rumble didn't come from one wolf. It came from all three simultaneously.
Aster sat up by the fire, his ice-blue eyes fixed on her. Briar stood up, blocking the door entirely with his dark, massive frame. Sol stepped off the window sill, his golden halo flashing with a sharp, protective pulse.
Callum looked at the beasts, then back at Aloan. "I don't think they are going to let you do that."
"But why me?" Aloan cried out, her composure finally cracking under the overwhelming madness of the day. Her eyes filled with hot, furious tears. "I’m an Omega! My father was a foot soldier who died in the Border Wars! My mother died of chest-fever when I was ten! I have no noble blood, no aura, no training! I am nothing!"
Callum walked over to her. He didn't grab her arm as Marion had. He didn't try to intimidate her as Graham had. He simply stopped a foot away, reaching out with a slow, deliberate movement, and gently brushed a stray lock of chestnut hair away from her tear-stained cheek.
"Do you know why no Alpha has summoned a Royal Wolf in two hundred years, Aloan?" Callum asked, his voice low and rich.
She shook her head, holding her breath at his touch.
"Because for two hundred years, every man who stood before that stone asked the same question: 'What can these beasts do for my reign?'" Callum said softly. "They brought their pride, their armies, their bloodlines, and their demands. They treated the spirits of the wild as weapons to be claimed."
He dropped his hand, looking down at Sol, who had walked over to press his head against Aloan’s thigh.
"You were the first person in two centuries to look at that stone and ask, 'Are you in pain?'" Callum continued. "Power doesn't draw the Royals, Aloan. Compassion does. In a world full of teeth and iron, you were the only one who offered them grace."
Aloan looked down at Sol’s soft fur, feeling the warm, golden light radiating from his spirit halo. The wolf let out a soft, rhythmic breath, resting his head heavily against her knee.
"The Trial of the Three Marks begins at midnight tomorrow," Callum said, turning back toward the door. "Malcolm will attempt to manipulate the ancient protocols to make you fail. Graham will likely try to ensure you don't live long enough to see the altar."
"And you?" Aloan asked, her voice quiet in the vast, grand room. "What will you do, Your Majesty?"
May you like
Callum stopped at the doorway, looking back over his shoulder. His silver-gray eyes met hers with absolute, unwavering resolve.
"I am the King of Silver Crest," Callum said. "It is my duty to protect this realm. And right now, Aloan Hartley... you are the most precious thing in it. I will guard your life with my own."
