Phoebe’s POV
If these elders thought they could leverage my position as queen to pressure , then I’d wield that exact sa authority like a weapon to shield myself.
I wasn’t the fastest learner, but my previous encounters with these council vultures had taught sothing invaluable. Nothing would satisfy them except watching fall from grace, and I’d rather die than give them that satisfaction.
After deliberately stretching out fifteen torturous minutes, I finally revealed what I’d been scribbling. There wasn’t much to see—they could scan it in under five seconds. I’d crossed out words, rewrote sentences, and dragged the process out purely to watch their faces redden with frustration.
The paper stated simply that I was obeying the king’s direct command to remain outside the palace, as my presence there posed unacceptable dangers to the kingdom’s security.
"The palace offers you maximum protection, my queen." Elder Augustus’s voice dripped with false concern. "Don’t you understand? Your reckless actions have already cost us two of our kingdom’s finest warriors."
Orion and Justin’s deaths hit like a physical blow. Their mories still burned fresh in my mind—two good n who’d died because of choices I’d made.
I shot Elder Augustus a look sharp enough to cut glass and wrote again, my pen scratching aggressively across the paper.
[I cannot defy the king’s direct command. Can you?]
That single line dropped into the room like a stone into still water, sending ripples of uncomfortable silence through their ranks.
Regardless of my elevated rank, Perry held ultimate authority. Nobody could challenge the king’s explicit orders without committing treason—not even the queen herself.
I’d learned this lesson in blood and tears, and now I wielded it like armor forged from their own rules.
Elder Tricia looked positively delighted with how I’d maneuvered them into this corner, though Elder Augustus clearly wasn’t finished with his attack.
"My queen," his voice took on a more desperate edge, "return to the palace imdiately. Critical matters demand your attention. The king’s protection strategy has obviously failed—you were attacked even in your supposed sanctuary. This proves the palace remains your only safe refuge."
His eagerness to drag back bordered on frantic. Whatever was happening at the palace, they needed a scapegoat. They needed soone to bla when things went sideways.
I wrote another response, taking my sweet ti with each letter while Elder Augustus’s jaw muscles twitched with barely restrained fury.
[The king returns soon. I await his next instructions.]
"Impossible, my queen!" The other elders rallied behind Augustus like wolves sensing wounded prey. "The palace cannot function without proper leadership!"
I glanced aningfully toward Elder Tricia, letting my expression make it clear that his presence was more than adequate to oversee palace operations. After all, wasn’t that exactly what the royal beta’s position entailed during the king’s absence?
Before Perry had taken a queen, Elder Tricia had managed everything perfectly well on his own.
The elders launched into another round of argunts, voices rising as they sensed their control slipping away. I responded with deliberate casualness, my pen moving slowly across the page.
[I’m eager to return, but the king’s orders take absolute priority. If you can persuade him to summon back, I’ll leave within the hour.]
From my peripheral vision, I caught Elder Tricia pressing his lips together, fighting to contain his amusent at their predicant.
Honestly, if I’d employed this tactic before, I never would have ended up at those main gates, vulnerable to their manipulation and pressure to abandon my post for their convenience.
But back then, I’d been desperate to prove my worth. I’d defied Perry’s orders, thinking heroic gestures would sohow earn their respect.
I didn’t regret leaving—it had allowed to execute Perry’s plan and save countless lives—but I wouldn’t repeat that particular mistake. This situation demanded a different kind of strength.
Understanding their complete defeat, the elders exchanged frustrated glances, their carefully laid trap springing back on their own fingers.
[The king returns within two days. Save your concerns for him.]
After writing that final dismissal, I rose gracefully and walked toward the door. Elder Tricia fell into step behind , leaving the other elders to stew in their spectacular failure.
"Brilliant!" Elder Tricia’s voice was warm with genuine admiration once we’d cleared the room. "You turned their own rules against them like a master chess player. I’m thoroughly impressed!"
His praise sent warmth flooding through my chest. Having soone not just recognize my efforts but actually acknowledge my growing political instincts felt incredible.
Thank you, I mouthed, unable to suppress my broad smile. Relief washed over like cool water—I’d finally handled a confrontation correctly.
We moved through the corridor where several warriors imdiately straightened and bowed respectfully as we passed. The gesture still felt surreal, but I was beginning to understand the weight it carried.
Then the world exploded into chaos.
The bullet tore through Elder Tricia’s chest with a wet, horrible sound that I felt in my bones.
"SHIELD THE QUEEN!"
Three warriors materialized around us instantly, their bodies forming a protective barrier as Elder Tricia crumpled to the floor like a puppet with severed strings. Blood spread across the stone in an expanding crimson pool.
"Get reinforcents! NOW!"
Everything unfolded with nightmarish speed. One mont we’d been walking peacefully, the next I was watching Elder Tricia’s life pour out of him onto the cold marble.
I dropped to my knees without thinking, pulling the Elder against , ignoring the blood soaking through my dress like warm paint. The tallic scent filled my nostrils as I pressed my hands desperately against the chest wound.
But the blood remained slick and wet between my fingers, refusing to clot, refusing to heal—which ant only one horrifying thing.
Silver bullet.
Silver was death to shifters. It blocked our natural healing, turned our greatest strength into fatal weakness.
Marcela!
I grabbed the nearest warrior’s arm, frantically mouthing the healer’s na over and over until understanding dawned in his eyes.
"My queen, you must reach safety first!"
Alarms began wailing throughout the building—the bone-deep sound that ant our pack was under siege. But how was this possible? Hadn’t Alpha Wallace eliminated half our enemies?
How could such a small remnant force threaten an entire pack?
But analysis would have to wait as a warrior carefully lifted Elder Tricia’s bleeding form and another grabbed my arm, pulling toward safety.
The distant sounds of battle echoed through the corridors, growing closer with each passing second.
Elder Tricia’s eyes found mine as they carried him, and I saw sothing that chilled more than the blood or the alarms.
He wasn’t just dying.
He was trying to tell sothing.
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