Blood had already begun to pool under his body as Adam rushed over with Ann at his side.
"What happened?" Adam asked urgently as he crouched at his side, the guards calling for the medical team in the background,
The scout took a few shaky breaths and then, with eyes wild he managed to croak out:
"Derwell's gone," He gasped for air briefly,then spoke again, his voice raw as he continued. "The town was razed. There's nothing left but screams and ash."
Ann waved the healers forward as they appeared on the steps and rushed to attend to him, but the looks on their faces told her that it wasn't good news.
"What about survivors?" Adam said, "Do I need to send a rescue team?"
But the man only sobbed.
"None. No survivors. I..I was the only one left."
Adam's face went very still and Ann pulled him back to make room for the healers.
He collapsed into the healer's arms, slipping into unconsciousness.
The yard filled with gasps and murmurs. Wolves whispered oaths under their breath. Nobles turned pale, some retreating rather than watch. Lycans stood rigid, their silence edged with shame.
"I'll kill him. I'll tear Ely apart with my bare hands." Adam snarled suddenly.
Ann stepped into his space before the rage tipped him over and she set her hands over his fists, ignoring the blood on his hands from the rider.
"Adam. Look at me."
His eyes burned molten gold, the wolf clawing close to the surface and for a heartbeat she thought he wouldn't hear her. Then his gaze found hers.
"Every time we seem like we've taken a step forward and we're starting to get somewhere, He destroys something." he said hoarsely, "I can't stand here and hold the line forever, Ann. I can't, I need to ake the men and meet him on the field and make him answer for his crimes."
Adam's breath tore ragged out of him, his chest heaving and his wolf pressed hard against the bond, desperate to strike, to tear, to kill.
Maeve's voice slashed through Ann's skull, sharp and eager.
"It's past time Ann. Enough waiting. Tear Ely apart before he tears all of us down to nothing but bones among the ruins."
"We'll kill him Adam, but we have to do it when it breaks him, not us."
Adam's jaw locked. His hands shook under hers, and he said nothing, simply pulling his hands back and turning, before walking up the palace steps and out of sight.
Ann sighed and watched the healers work, then slow in their work, pause, and sit back with a shake of their heads.
"No survivors Ann," Maeve snarled as a cold, icy pit opened up inside of her and threatened to swallow her whole, "Not a single one. If you won't act now then I'll wrench control from you and order the deployment myself."
"See that he has a hero's burial." Ann said softly to the closest healer and she bowed her head respectfully as Ann turned and walked back tot he palace, her head and heart heavy.
She could hear the whispers as she passed. The nobles, the refugees, all of them.
"They say she's breaking under the strain of it all."
"She can't manage nobles, Lycans, refugees, and war all at once..."
"She's too young for this. Too distracted. Too…"
Ann didn't bother to stop them, people had always whispered; especially the nobles because it was their favorite sport. But the edge in their voices had changed.
Now it was less idle gossip and more like they wanted her to fail. Others wanted Adam to step in and take control of the crown, as if it would erase her presence at all. They already worked as a team, but she held the final say on decisions.
She continued to walk with her head down, ignoring the whispers until she heardthe distant sound of Coral's laugh drifting through one of the open doors of the nursery wing.
Desperate for anything to distract her from the weight in her heart, she followed the sound.
Brad was there too, seated on a bench near the window with his infant son balanced in his lap. The boy clutched at Coral's braid with fat fists, drooling happily while she pulled exaggerated faces until he squealed with delight.
Coral caught the baby under his arms and lifted him high, spinning once before settling him against her shoulder and the boy gurgled, pressing his face into her neck like he'd known her his whole life.
Brad watched with a softness Ann hadn't seen on him for a long time. Not since he'd come to the palace with the child in his arms, hollow-eyed and weary. His usual guarded tension had slipped. For a moment, he was just a man watching his son safe in someone else's hands.
Ann stayed near the doorway, unnoticed, and let herself smile. It wasn't just the baby's joy. It was Brad's expression,surprised by the ease between Coral and his son, and something deeper sparking in the way his gaze lingered on her.
"Oh look, puppy love," Maeve yawned. "You're going to meddle, aren't you? Even with the imminent war and the poor scout lying dead in the yard…"
"I'm not going to meddle," Ann murmured under her breath. "Encouragement would be a better term. There can't just be death and misery all around us. Maeve, otherwise, what are we fighting for? It's these moments that pull us together and right now, this is what all of us need."
Ann stood by the doorway and watched, a light smile pulling at her face as she did so.
"Okay," Coral said to the baby in a mock-serious tone. "We're going to try the grand tour now. Window. Plant. Daddy's terrible stubble. Are you ready?"
The boy patted her cheek and squealed in the way that babies do, utterly oblivious to the horrors that are going on just outside the palace walls.
Coral grinned and bounced him gently.
"See, he approves. And before you ask, yes, I washed my hands. Twice."
Brad huffed a laugh.
"He likes you."
"Obviously," Coral said, smug. "What's his name? You've avoided telling me on purpose like it's classified."
Brad hesitated, then gave in. "Devante."
"Devante," Coral repeated, testing it in a soft voice against the boy's ear. Devante turned his head toward the sound and cooed. "Strong name. He looks like a Devante."
Brad looked ridiculous for a second, like his chest didn't quite know what to do with that amount of relief. "Thanks."
"Bottle?" Coral asked, glancing at the small basket near Brad's feet.
"It's there," he said, already reaching. "Timing's guesswork. He eats, then cries, then sleeps, then cries. I thought babies came with manuals."
"They do," Coral said. "They're called women who've kept everyone alive for centuries. Watch." She took the bottle, checked the temperature against her wrist, and shifted Devante into the crook of her arm.
"Slow angle. Tiny pauses. If he gulps, stop. If he fusses, try a smaller tilt. And keep a cloth ready unless you want a wardrobe change."
Brad leaned in, focused like she'd handed him a map through a minefield. "You make that look easy."
"It is, if you let it be," Coral said. "You're trying to solve him like a problem. He's not a problem. He's a person who can't talk yet."
Devante settled, eyes heavy, mouth working around the bottle with loud determined swallows. Coral softened her voice to a low hum. "He likes lower notes. Higher ones overstimulate when he's tired. Try this pattern."
She hummed a simple tune and nodded for Brad to join. He tried, went off-key, and winced. Devante didn't care. He kept eating, then sighed and drooped.
"Also," Coral added, "he loves your heartbeat. Put him a little higher and you'll see it."
Brad obeyed, awkward at first. Devante melted against his chest, one small hand fisting in Brad's shirt. The tension in Brad's shoulders loosened by degrees.
"You should've told me he likes music," Coral said. "He lit up when I hummed."
"I didn't know," Brad admitted. "He cries most nights. I figured nothing helped."
"Music helps," Coral said firmly. "And attention. Babies know when they're wanted."
Brad's mouth pulled tight, guilt flashing through his eyes. He kissed Devante's hair instead of answering.
Coral didn't press.
"Burp time," she said, claiming Devante for a moment and settling him upright. "Your turn next, then you're on swaddle duty."
"Swaddle duty," Brad repeated like she'd asked him to sign a treaty. "I can't get the corners right."
"Because you fight the cloth," Coral said. "You need to convince it. Move with it."
"That's advice you give assassins."
"And parents," Coral said, deadpan. "Here." She folded the blanket in three crisp motions, then tucked Devante into a neat bundle that looked both snug and smug. "See. You're not trapping him. You're giving him boundaries."
Brad watched her hands like a student. "Do that again. Slower."
Coral did, narrating each tuck. Brad tried it on the next pass, clumsy but careful. Devante stared up at him, unimpressed and content.
"There," Coral said. "That's it. Repeat it two more times and your hands will remember for you."
He looked up at her, something warm breaking through the usual restraint. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Coral said. "And before you ask, yes I can come back after supper to help with bath time. But only if I get to boss you around about water temperature like a tyrant."
"Deal," Brad said, too fast.
Coral's grin tilted softer. "I'm going to get fresh linens and a spare blanket before the evening rush. He'll spit up as soon as you think he won't."
"I'm learning," Brad said.
"You are," Coral said, pleased. She flicked Devante's foot lightly. "Be good for your dad, tiny wolf."
She passed Devante back, gathered the scattered cloths, and headed toward the nursery proper. The boy watched her go with clear interest. Brad did too, for his own reasons, and forgot to hide it.
When the door shut behind her, Brad sighed and leaned his head back against the wall.
Ann stepped forward. "You know, you looked almost happy for a second there."