Chapter 5 - The Poison in the Courtyard
The blood drained from Darian’s face in a single heartbeat.
Without a word, the Alpha King surged past Callan, moving with terrifying speed. Seraphina didn't hesitate; she gathered her skirts and ran after them, her bare feet pounding against the cold stone floor.
When they reached the inner kitchen garden, a crowd of guards and panicked kitchen staff had formed a wide circle around the rosemary hedge.
There, lying motionless on the frost-covered grass, was the silver wolf.
Thick, dark foam bubbled from its massive jaws. Its eyes were tightly shut, its mighty chest barely moving. A shattered earthenware bowl lay nearby, stained with the dark purple residue of nightshade extract—a lethal neurotoxin used only by master assassins and high-ranking court alchemists.
"Get a healer!" Callan roared, pressing a hand to his bleeding shoulder. "Find the apothecary immediately!"
"It’s too late for ordinary healers," a smooth, cultured voice cut through the panic.
Chancellor Halstead stepped forward from the shadows of the colonnade. He wore immaculate velvet robes of deep indigo, his silver hair neatly combed, his expression a mask of grave, practiced sorrow.
"Your Majesty," Halstead said, bowing slightly to Darian. "This is a tragedy. But it is also a sign. The beast was rabid, unstable, and clearly corrupted by... influences from the lower staff." Halstead cast a cold, sidelong glance at Seraphina, who had pushed her way through the guards to kneel beside the dying wolf. "A stray creature that wanders into the kitchens is bound to find filth."
Darian did not look at the chancellor. He was kneeling beside Seraphina in the dirt, his large hands hovering over the wolf's massive, convulsing flank.
"Seraphina," Darian said quietly, ignoring Halstead entirely. "Can you save it?"
She didn't answer him verbally. Her hands were already moving. Two years of working in the scullery kitchens had taught her more about herbs, roots, and poisons than any royal apothecary cared to admit; when you have to cure sick kitchen dogs and treat kitchen burns with whatever scraps are left over, you learn fast.
"Callan! Get me a basin of warm water and salt from the larder—now!" Seraphina commanded, her voice ringing with an authority that left the captain momentarily stunned. He spun around and sprinted toward the kitchens.
"Guards," Halstead barked, his eyes flashing with sudden panic. "Remove that omega girl at once. She is clearly responsible for—"
"If you take one step closer to her, Chancellor, I will feed you to whatever is left of this beast," Darian interrupted.
The king rose slowly to his feet. He didn't raise his voice, but the sheer, crushing weight of his alpha dominance slammed downward like an iron gate. Chancellor Halstead froze, his face turning the color of curdled milk, and took a slow step backward.
Seraphina ignored them both. She pressed her palms against the wolf's chest, closing her eyes as she concentrated on that strange, glowing pulse she had felt the night before. She didn't understand how, but she pushed her own life-force inward, willing the poison to retreat.
The wolf let out a choked, shuddering breath.
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Then, its jaws snapped open, and a dark, noxious black liquid spilled onto the grass.
The animal took a deep, rattling breath—and its eyes snapped open, shining with bright, metallic light.
