Chapter 4
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Mal
My wolf was screaming.
I stood between the crowd and my family, every muscle locked, every instinct howling at me to shift and tear and protect.
Behind me, Wen was murmuring to Killian, her voice soft and soothing.
His powers were still flickering weakly around them, little sparks of magic he couldn’t control, portals opening and closing the size of coins.
My hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Not from fear. From the sheer effort of keeping myself leashed when every instinct demanded blood.
I was a king. I had responsibilities. Alliances to maintain, kingdoms to protect, centuries of diplomacy riding on my ability to remain calm and rational.
But I was also a father. And right now, the father was winning.
“SILENCE,” I commanded, letting my alpha power flood the room even more than before.
The effect this time was immediate. Wolves dropped their eyes, their bodies instinctively bowing under the weight of dominance radiating from me. Even the strongest among them felt it, that primal urge to submit to a more powerful predator. Some actually whimpered.
Good. They should whimper.
Aurion was beside me instantly, his own alpha command reinforcing mine. “Everyone calm down immediately.”
My eyes were glowing. I could feel it, the heat behind them, the wolf so close to the surface it was taking everything I had not to shift completely. I needed to get my family out of here, get them somewhere safe, but these fucking people just wouldn’t listen.
A dignitary wearing Valoryn’s colors stepped forward, a ridiculous dead-bird hat somehow still perched on his head.
Even in crisis, the man accessorized like a.
.. what was the word? The profession that worked with dead animals, preserved them, made them look alive.
Taxidermist. Wen had used it once, describing someone’s unfortunate fur coat.
He accessorized like a taxidermist’s nightmare.
Behind him, Valerius Crescentborn himself stood watching in silence.
“King Malachar,” the Crescentborn representative said, his voice carrying the kind of practiced authority that came from speaking for royalty. “Those portals. Where did they lead?”
“I do not know.” My voice came out as a snarl. “My son is four years old and terrified. That is my priority right now.”
“Your priority should be our safety!” A dignitary from Wynter Kingdom stepped forward. His face was red with anger and genuine fear. “You don’t KNOW where those portals went?!”
“No,” I bit out. “Because I was more concerned with my terrified child than cataloging dimensional gateways.”
A representative from Duskmere’s delegation spoke carefully, his tone measured. “King Malachar, with respect, they could lead anywhere. To any realm.”
Mortimer Goldridge himself stood silent, his expression unreadable. The kings were letting their people do the talking, probably to maintain deniability later. Smart. Infuriating, but smart.
“To other dragon kingdoms,” a noble from Ebonvale added, pushing forward aggressively. “More fae. To realms with creatures we have no knowledge of, no treaties with, no defenses against.”
“Unknown portals are gateways for invasion,” someone from Moonhaven’s delegation added.
“This is unprecedented,” another voice called out. “Wolves do not have magic. We are shifters, not witches. This should not be possible.”
“Half-breeds with witch blood have shown abilities,” someone countered. “But a human-wolf hybrid? There is no precedent for this.”
“Which makes it even more dangerous. We have no idea what he is capable of.”
Wen stepped forward, fierce and furious. “He’s four years old! He doesn’t even know what he did!”
“Which makes him more dangerous,” the Wynter representative shot back. They were as annoying as his Silvermane king. “Uncontrolled power is the worst kind of threat.”
My growl was inhuman, echoing through the stone hall. “My son is not a threat. He is a child.”
“A child who opened portals to unknown realms without even trying,” the Duskmere representative said quietly. “What happens when he gets angry? Or has a tantrum?”
Aurion tried to help. My brother’s faith in diplomacy never wavered, even when diplomacy was clearly failing. “But they closed immediately. No one was hurt. Nothing was damaged.”
“This time,” a woman from Silvermane’s group said sharply. “What about next time? What if next time one stays open? What if something comes through?”
“What if enemies discover these portals and use them to attack us?” demanded an Ebonvale noble.
The Duskmere representative pressed further. “What if he opens one during a battle? Or in a populated city? The destruction could be catastrophic. Hundreds could die.”
The Moonhaven noble who’d spoken before stepped even closer, his expression cold. “The boy needs to be studied. Contained. Controlled. For everyone’s safety, he cannot be allowed to roam free.”
My vision went red.
“No one is touching my son,” I snarled.
“Then how do we know we’re safe?” the Valoryn representative demanded.
“Because I will keep you safe.”
The Wynter dignitary actually laughed. “That is not enough. You can’t watch him every moment. You can’t prevent accidents. One mistake and we could all be dead.”
I couldn’t contain my snarl any longer, vibrating through my bones. Aurion’s hand found my shoulder. “Brother, you need to calm...”
“Do not tell me to calm down when they are threatening my family.”
I could feel the remains of my control slipping.
The wolf was right there, just beneath my skin, ready to tear through flesh and bone to protect what was mine.
Years of discipline, of learning to master the beast inside me, and it was all crumbling because these fools were talking about my son like he was a weapon to be contained instead of a child to be protected.
The hall erupted into arguments again, representatives shouting over each other.
Some looked genuinely terrified, eyes wide and panicked.
Others were already calculating, seeing political opportunity in my son’s crisis.
I had lived long enough to recognize that look.
They would use this against us if they could.
I stood between them and my family, fists clenched so hard my nails were drawing blood from my palms. The scent of my own blood only made the wolf more agitated, more desperate to be released.
Behind me, Killian whimpered, and something in my chest cracked. My son. My pup. Crying because these people were treating him like a monster instead of a child who just wanted to count people and eat honey.
“The boy cannot be allowed near populated areas until this is resolved.” Someone said.
I went very still. “You are suggesting I exile my four-year-old son?”
A different representative from Wynter stepped forward, wearing the formal sash that marked him as speaking with Silvermane’s full authority. Either very brave or profoundly stupid. I suspected the latter. “I am suggesting you contain the threat before it destroys us all.”
“He is not a threat!” Wen’s voice was furious. “He’s a baby! He doesn’t understand what’s happening!”
“Which is exactly the problem,” someone from Crescentborn’s group said. “A baby with the power to end kingdoms. That’s a nightmare scenario.”
Aurion tried again. “No one was hurt. Nothing was damaged. The portals closed immediately. There’s no evidence of lasting danger.”
“Yet,” the Wynter representative said flatly. “Yet is the important word here.”
Then the Ebonvale noble, the one with cold eyes who’d been pushing hardest all night, said the words that shattered my control.
“Some of us are questioning whether the boy should live at all.”
The entire room went silent. Even the people who’d been arguing stopped mid-sentence.
I went very, very still. My breathing stopped. Kane Aurelius’s eyebrows shot to his hairline, turning to see his own representative in shock. But he stayed quiet, not interrupting his people. Fucking coward.
“What did you just say?” My voice was deadly quiet.
The Ebonvale noble had the audacity to continue. “For the good of the kingdoms, perhaps we should consider...”
I didn’t let him finish. If his King wouldn’t teach him manners, I fucking would.
Everything happened at once. I was moving before conscious thought engaged, shifting partially as I went. Claws extended, eyes burning. My fist connected with his face with a satisfying crunch of breaking bone. He went down hard and I was on him in an instant.
He suggested killing my son. My Killian. This man wanted him dead. So I hit him again, and again, and again.
“brOTHER! Stop!” Aurion’s voice cut through.
Hands grabbed me, trying to pull me off. I fought them, snarling, still trying to get to the man bleeding on the floor. Four guards, maybe five, all straining to hold me back.
“Your Majesty, please!”
“King Malachar!”
Six people were restraining me now, including Aurion. The Ebonvale noble was scrambling backward, leaving a trail of blood from his shattered nose. Good. Let him carry that scar as a reminder of what happens when you suggest murdering a child.
“He threatened my SON!” I roared.
Someone from Crescentborn’s delegation stepped forward carefully. “King Malachar, please, be reasonable...”
“Reasonable?” I was still straining against the grips holding me. “You want me to be reasonable while you threaten my child’s life?! Come here and I will fucking teach you how reasonable I can be right now.”
“We want assurance this won’t happen again,” the Wynter representative said, carefully neutral now.
I stopped fighting, went completely rigid. The guards didn’t release me, smart enough to know it might be a trick.
“Then I assure you,” I said, my voice cold and certain. “Anyone who harms my family answers to me. Personally. And I will make it hurt and last for decades. If my son’s life is what brings down this peace alliance, so be it. I won’t tolerate any of you, fucking pricks, threatening my family.”