Chapter 11 - The Echoes of Solaria
The thunderous applause inside the cathedral of Solaria slowly faded into a tense, respectful hush as the newly crowned King and Empress stepped down from the altar. Darius kept his hand firmly locked with Seraphina’s, his fingers intertwined as if letting go would make the past few weeks dissolve like a dream.
“You handled the high lords remarkably well during the feast,” Darius murmured, leaning down so his breath brushed against her ear as they sat upon the dual thrones of white marble and dark iron. “I think Chancellor Vane’s remaining loyalists are too terrified to even breathe in your presence.”
Seraphina cast a sidelong glance across the grand banquet hall. Down below, nobles who had once whispered malicious gossip about her scullery background now avoided her gaze entirely, terrified of the celestial power she had demonstrated during the capital's takeover.
“They aren't terrified of me, Darius,” Seraphina replied softly, taking a sip of spiced wine from a silver goblet. “They are terrified of what they cannot control. Power inherited through birth they understand; power born from bloodlines they thought extinct terrifies them to their core.”
“Let them be terrified,” Darius growled lightly, his silver eyes flashing with protective warmth. “Fear keeps them compliant. But my focus isn't on the court rats right now. General Valen found something in Vane’s private personal ledger before the trial.”
Seraphina set her goblet down, her expression instantly sharpening. “What kind of ledger?”
“A record of shipments,” Darius said, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly tone. “Not just weapons or coin. Shipments of rare black-market herbs—the exact ingredients used to brew the necrotic poison that destroyed my wolf three years ago. And the trail doesn't just lead back to Eveline.”
Seraphina’s breath hitched. “Who else?”
“Someone who left the capital the night we broke through the gates,” Darius answered, his jaw tightening. “Someone connected to the royal bloodline of the western territories. They’re regrouping across the border, and they’re looking for allies among the rogue northern packs.”
Before Seraphina could press for more details, the heavy oak doors of the grand hall creaked open, and a breathless messenger in the armor of the western border patrol sprinted up the steps, dropping to one knee before the thrones.
“My King! My Empress!” the messenger panted, his face pale with dread. “The western border watchtowers have gone dark. A massive force of rogue wolves, led by an unknown figure carrying the crest of the fallen western house, is marching toward the inner provinces!”
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Darius stood up so violently his heavy chair scraped loudly against the marble floor. The dark aura of the Alpha King instantly saturated the entire hall.
“It seems,” Darius said, looking down at Seraphina with a fierce, unwavering resolve, “our honeymoon has been officially canceled.”
