Chapter 6 - Whispers in the Council Chamber
The heavy oak doors of the royal council chamber were reinforced with bands of iron, yet the shouting inside could be heard clearly from the outer gallery.
"You are throwing away a dynasty for a scullery maid!"
Chancellor Halstead’s voice cracked with rage as he slammed his palm against the mahogany table. Around the horseshoe table, a dozen high-ranking lords and regional alpha commanders murmured in fierce agreement.
"The Vossreach alliance is hanging by a thread," continued Duke Vane, adjusting his jeweled rings. "Princess Raylen has been publicly humiliated. If you reject her now to mate an omega orphan, the northern border packs will rise in rebellion. They will say the Alpha King has lost his mind to a kitchen trick!"
At the head of the table, Darian sat in absolute silence. He leaned back in his high-backed iron chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, his dark eyes fixed coldly on Halstead.
"Are you finished, Chancellor?" Darian asked softly.
Halstead puffed out his chest, sensing support from the lords. "I am speaking for the survival of Wolfkeep, Your Majesty. The beast is a menace. The girl is a liability. And the poison found in the garden proves that enemies within the castle are already using her to strike at the throne."
"The poison," Darian said, his voice dropping into a dangerous purge of sound, "was found in a vial bearing the personal seal of the royal alchemist—an alchemist who answers directly to the chancellor's office."
Halstead’s expression flickered for a fraction of a second—a tiny micro-expression of pure panic that did not escape the king’s notice.
"An absurd fabrication!" Halstead sputtered. "A clumsy attempt to frame me!"
"We will investigate," Darian said, standing up with sudden, terrifying finality. "Every ledger, every communication, and every dark corner of this castle will be turned upside down. But make no mistake, gentlemen: the Diamond Wolf has spoken. The true mate of the Alpha King is Seraphina Pell. The matter is closed."
"Your Majesty—!"
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"Guards. Escort the chancellor to his chambers. Confined under house arrest until further notice."
As four elite guards marched Halstead out of the room, the chancellor shot one venomous, lingering glare over his shoulder. If he couldn't manipulate the king, he would have to resort to more permanent measures.
