The king was unraveling.
"Your Majesty," Thessaly began gently, "the sage was prepared for this. He gave us specific instructions, and the first is to make sure that you do not get involved."
Damien’s jaw clenched. His gaze turned to the horizon again.
"From this point on," she continued, taking a cautious step forward, "it doesn’t concern you. And the queen cannot know."
How could he not tell her? How could he lie by omission as her body carried the very life that Veyron had risked his own to protect?
He turned to Thessaly at last, eyes raw with fury barely restrained. "If he’s captured, it ans..."
"It ans that we trust Veyron’s foresight. He said if this happened, your role ends here. You must keep the queen calm. You must act as if nothing has happened. He believed in your leadership, but more importantly... he believed the child must be born alive. Be rest assured, he would die rather than involve you."
"What do you an us?"
Doctor Thessaly stiffened, instinctively taking a step back. Her hands trembled slightly at her sides as her mind raced for a way to backtrack, to refra what she had just said. But there was no use. In her panic, she had let the veil slip. She had said too much. Far too much.
Damien rose slowly from his seat, the porcelain cup forgotten on the table beside him. His movent was smooth, restrained. And that was what made it dangerous. The King of Blood City was holding back a wrath he had no intention of unleashing—yet.
"Thessa," he warned, voice low but lined with the steel of command, "if you do not start talking..."
She opened her mouth but faltered.
"Your Majesty..."
"Now!"
The sudden rise in his voice echoed softly against the walls. Not enough to awaken Luna from her rest, but enough to send a ripple of energy. The warning was clear. He was demanding the truth as a man whose family was under threat.
Thessaly’s eyes dropped for a mont. She drew in a breath, bracing herself for what would co next.
"I am a part of an order sworn to protect the royal house that has our best interests at heart," she said finally, her voice steadying as she lifted her chin. "Sage Veyron led the order."
Damien stared at her, lips tightening as he processed the words. An order. Sworn. Led by Veyron.
"So... a cult?" he asked flatly, the word bitter in his mouth.
Thessaly hesitated, then offered a small, wry nod. "Sort of," she admitted simply.
There was no point sugarcoating it.
Damien turned away from her, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing toward the railing that looked out over the eastern gardens.
"And I am just supposed to sit back and watch as a man who is like a father to takes the fall for ?"
His voice cracked slightly on the word father. That was the root of it. Veyron was family. A guide.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Thessaly said gently, but firmly. "He would do it a million tis over. I would. We all would."
The conviction in her voice was heartbreaking. She was telling the truth. These were people who had pledged themselves to a future they believed in. A future that now rested in the womb of a werewolf queen.
Damien turned back to face her.
"Who is in charge of trying him?"
"Head Councilman Richard," she replied. "The proceedings will begin tomorrow."
Richard was a just man. There was no doubt about it, Veyron would be sentenced to death.
He sighed deeply and cast a glance toward the direction of the bedroom where Luna lay sleeping.
"The queen is still sleeping," he murmured. "How long do you think we have until the baby cos?"
"Days. Maybe a week. It depends," she said.
"And she still needs the sa amount of blood?" Damien asked.
"Yes," Thessa responded grimly, her hands clasped in front of her as though in prayer. Her face was pale and drawn. "You do not have to worry, Your Majesty. She will be fine."
"You said the sa thing in the beginning. Look what’s happened to Veyron."
Thessa’s gaze softened, the lines around her eyes creasing as she took in the man before her.
"Like I said," she murmured, "we would risk it all for the royal heir."
Damien exhaled sharply, almost laughing at the absurdity of it all—but there was no humor in the sound. Just anguish. "And how many of my people am I going to watch fall?" he asked, not truly expecting an answer.
There was a long pause before Thessa responded.
"As many of us as possible, Your Highness."
Damien turned away again, running a hand down his face.
*****
Luna stood before the mirror in her dressing chamber, adjusting the collar of her blouse. Her bump was gently rounded now. It was strange, how motherhood didn’t feel foreign to her.
Her servant, Leora, stepped in quietly. "Your Majesty," she said, "Talon is waiting for you in the receiving room."
A spark lit Luna’s eyes. She hadn’t seen Talon in days.
She stepped quickly into her shoes, tugged her jacket on, and swept out of the bedroom in confident strides. Her presence was magnetic, her aura commanding yet undeniably feminine.
She entered the waiting room to find Talon standing near the window.
"Talon..." Luna greeted, "you seem to be a sight for sore eyes."
He turned to her with a grin. "I was out of town for a bit. The king sent on an errand."
Luna paused in her stride, raising a brow as amusent danced across her face. "My husband, the king sent you, my werewolf guard assigned by Alpha Kyllian, on an errand." She almost laughed at the absurdity.
Talon chuckled softly, the sound rumbling low in his throat as they walked.
"I guess he is warming up to my presence," he said, his grin widening.
Luna arched a brow, lips quirking in a half-smile. "And where did this errand lead you to?"
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