The royal hall had changed.
Where once there had been warmth—golden banners, music, the flicker of torchlight and laughter—there was now silence and stone. The marble columns seemed taller, the air colder. Guards lined the perimeter with perfect posture, their eyes blank, their weapons polished to a mirror shine. Even the court advisors, seated in rigid rows along the edges of the chamber, had the look of an audience told to watch but not think.
At the center stood Celine and Leon. Side by side. Still and silent.
They had been summoned for a hearing, though no one had said the word directly. It had been dressed in layers—“review of facts,” “clarity,” “a final measure of justice.” But the weight in the room said something else entirely. This wasn’t a conversation. It was a test. A display.
The Lycan King reclined on the throne at the far end of the hall, robes crisp, crown gleaming under the skylight. He looked the part—serene, composed—but his gaze betrayed him. Eyes that seemed warm flicked between them with the edge of a knife hidden just behind the surface.
“We are still investigating,” the King said at last, folding his hands on his knee. “The poisoning was a serious offense. And as such, it must be handled with the utmost care.”
Leon didn’t move, but Celine could feel the shift in him. The air between them tightened. His stance remained formal, but tension rippled beneath it like a pulled cord.
“No updates. No suspects. No timeline,” he said, his voice low and steady.
The King didn’t bristle. He offered a faint, measured smile. “We must be absolutely certain before accusing anyone in my court.”
“You were certain enough to shackle Lilith,” Leon replied, the words hitting harder than his tone.
“Ah,” Maeron said, his voice almost amused, “but Lilith is known for theatrics. You, on the other hand, are not. Surely, you understand the gravity of the situation. The delicacy of it.”
He leaned forward slightly, just enough to draw attention to the movement.
“A White Wolf. A Luna. Possibly the mother of the future of our world.”
The words landed with force. Celine didn’t react outwardly, but her stomach twisted. It wasn’t a compliment. It wasn’t concern. It was a claim. Framed as reverence, but meant to remind them both who was in control.
Beside her, Leon’s fingers brushed against hers—quick, deliberate. A silent gesture. I’m here.
The King noticed. His smile returned.
“But I do have one suggestion. A practical one.”
Celine’s shoulders went still. Leon didn’t look away, but his eyes narrowed just slightly.
“You’ve been away from Crimson Fang for quite some time, Alpha. No doubt your people are feeling the strain of your absence.”
Leon remained silent.
The King continued as if he hadn’t expected a reply. “Perhaps you should return to them. Just for a short time. Let them see their Alpha. Remind them where their loyalty lies.”
He gestured faintly toward Celine, as if she were a detail in passing. “She can remain here, of course. For her safety. For the sake of the investigation. After all, she is the heart of it.”
The air in the hall changed. Even the guards seemed to shift in place, sensing the line that had just been crossed.
Celine’s breath caught in her throat, but she didn’t speak.
Leon did.
“You want me to leave my mate. In your palace. Alone.”
The King didn’t miss a beat. “She wouldn’t be alone.”
The words weren’t a suggestion. They were a challenge, delivered in calm tones and wrapped in layers of protocol. But it wasn’t strategy. It was possession. And it was deliberate.
Leon knew it. Celine did too.
But they were surrounded. Every word, every gesture, watched and measured. And the King wasn’t hiding his intentions anymore.
He wasn’t seeking justice.
He was staking a claim.