Chapter 18 #2
King Kazimir was an iceberg in a suit, pale as moonlight, his black hair slicked back and his eyes cold, flat disks.
He brought with him a wall of air so frigid it hurt to breathe.
Beside him, Lucia floated—long black curls, lips painted red, skin like alabaster.
Her heels made no sound. The four guards who’d come to subdue us froze in their tracks, like mice in the path of a snake.
Kazimir spoke first, in English, hint of a Russian accent, but so precise it sounded like it had been filed to a razor. “What is the meaning of this? Why is my presence required, and yet my friends are locked away like criminals?”
No one answered.
He let the silence stretch. “Princess Savannah Calloway is under my protection, as is the Luna of Iron Valor. Any who threatens them threatens me.”
The Council official stammered. “Sir, there are procedures—”
He cut her off with a glance. “I know your procedures. I have written half of them.”
He looked at me, then at Juliet. “You wish to see the girl?”
Juliet’s voice trembled, but she did not look away. “Yes. Now.”
Lucia stepped forward, her smile all teeth. “If you do not, I will start killing from the bottom up. Council will not like the headlines. You understand?”
The woman in the gray suit swallowed, hard. “Give me five minutes.”
She fled. The guards melted away with her.
Rafe put away his phone and smiled. “Never gets old watching you work, Kazimir.”
The vampire shrugged. “Council is made of old men. They fear only what is older.”
He looked at me, and something passed between us—a moment of respect, or warning. “Your mate is strong,” he said. “But she will not survive this if you do not hold yourself together. Do you understand?”
I nodded, unable to speak.
Lucia hovered near Juliet, hands gentle as she checked for wounds. “You are safe,” she said, voice syrup-thick. “But you must be calm for Savannah. She needs you.”
I tried. For her, I’d try anything.
The councilwoman returned, eyes wide. “They’ll see you now. All of you.”
The room moved at once, a single organism. We followed her down another corridor, this one lined with gold-framed portraits of monsters in human dress. At the end, another steel door.
Beyond it: the royal chamber.
And Savannah, closer than ever. I could feel her, her heartbeat tangled with mine.
We were almost there.
The royal chamber was all theater and threat: marble floors, gilded chairs, twelve thrones fanned out in a half-moon like the jaws of some ancient beast. The ceiling soared up into blackness, lost in shadow, as if the Council wanted every guest to feel the weight of oblivion above them.
Seated or standing behind each throne were the representatives of every territory and supernatural house—wolves, witches, vamps, even a demon or two, and majestic angels, their eyes like diamonds in the dimness.
Savannah’s father, Declan Calloway, sat at the center, king’s medallion at his throat, his eyes cold and glittering with malice.
Next to him lounged King Dominic, the intended, arrogant as ever, one foot propped on a low table, his fingers drumming on the armrest as if the entire world was just waiting for him to order a round of drinks.
They both smiled when we entered, two apex predators who thought themselves unchallenged.
We walked down the aisle together, Rafe up front, Kozlovs at his flank, Bronc and Juliet on either side of me. My wolf howled, desperate to break free, but I held the leash until my nails dug deep into my palms, drawing blood.
The Council Chairwoman, a witch with paper-white skin and a smile like a paper cut, called the meeting to order.
“Let the record show the parties are present. King Rafe Mayfield, King Kazimir Kozlov, Alpha Baucaum and Luna. And…” Her gaze flicked to me, then to the thrones.
“Bridger Hardin, mate to the disputed subject. Where is she?”
Dominic’s smile widened. “She’s being prepared for the test, per protocol.”
Lucia cut in, voice cold as ice. “She’s being kept from her mate, you mean.”
Kazimir spoke next, his accent slicing the air. “Council is in violation. You allow King Dominic access, but not her true mate. This is not tradition. This is torture.”
The room rippled with unease. Witches exchanged glances, the vamps bared their teeth in amusement, and Declan’s lips tightened, a small tick betraying his anger.
Lucia stepped forward, her presence filling the chamber.
“Savannah has been beaten. Starved. Forced into silver. There are witnesses. There are photographs.” She flicked a stack of printed images onto the table.
They scattered across the marble, each one a still life of pain: Savannah’s wrists flayed by silver cuffs, her face swollen, bite marks ringed in purple.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then Rafe spoke, his voice slow and certain. “We demand emergency arbitration. If the Council cannot guarantee her safety, we’ll take it to the Assembly of Kings.”
The Chairwoman hesitated, then nodded. “Very well. Bring her in.”
I felt her coming before the doors even opened—a wave of panic, then hope, then a pain so sharp it nearly split me in half. My bones stretched, fur itched at my scalp, and my jaw ached to crack open and howl. Bronc set a hand on my shoulder, grounding me, but I barely felt it.
The doors swung wide. Savannah stood there, flanked by two guards. She wore a plain white shift, her hair loose, her face pale but defiant. When she saw me, she broke. Just for a second. Then she squared her shoulders and walked down the aisle, never looking away.
She stopped ten feet away. The Chairwoman gestured for her to take a seat. Savannah took it, eyes locked on mine.
“State your name for the record,” the witch said.
“Savannah Calloway,” she replied, voice so steady it made me want to cry.
“Is it true you are mated to Bridger Hardin?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Is it true you were promised to King Dominic?”
Savannah’s voice trembled, just a fraction. “Not by choice.”
The Chairwoman nodded. “Have you been coerced?”
Savannah’s eyes slid to her father, then to Dominic. She hesitated. “Yes,” she said, barely audible. “I was forced. They threatened my family. They threatened to kill him.”
Dominic laughed, low and ugly. “She’s a liar. She ran away from her birthright. This is all an act.”
“Enough,” Rafe said, and the chamber went still.
The Chairwoman looked at Declan. “Do you dispute the mate bond?”
Declan’s voice was ice. “It’s impossible. She did not seek my approval. There was no contract. No Council witness.”
Lucia laughed, a sound like glass breaking. “You care for contracts, but not your daughter’s life?”
Kazimir said, “The bond is proven. Let them be together. End this farce.”
The Chairwoman shuffled papers. “It will take a vote.”
But the room had already decided. The other royals murmured, not in English, but the intent was clear: this had gone too far. Even the witches looked ashamed.
Bronc leaned in and whispered, “Go to her, Menace. Now.”
I didn’t walk. I ran.
The guards moved to block me, but the Chairwoman snapped, “Let him pass.”
I dropped to my knees in front of Savannah, hands shaking as I reached for her. She gripped me back, knuckles white, her scent flooding every sense. My wolf settled, finally. The world went quiet.
Behind me, the chamber erupted in shouts and arguments and the mad scramble of a hundred old wounds opening at once. But for a few heartbeats, nothing mattered but the woman in my arms.
She pressed her forehead to mine. “Don’t let them take me.”
I kissed her, gentle as I could, but my hands were bruising her arms, refusing to let go. “They won’t,” I said, and meant it.
For the first time since this nightmare started, I believed it.
The Chairwoman spoke again. “The Council members will be given the test results. Study them well. Take them to your respective leaders for consultation and we will reconvene in 48 hours for a vote on the matter. Mr. Hardin, Miss Calloway, you will be provided with an apartment here in the Council tower. I strongly advise you not to leave the confines of the building. Alpha Baucaum, you and your Luna will also be provided an apartment. You will all be on the same level as your king.” King Rafe looked at me and nodded.
I helped Savannah out of the chair, and we both bowed our heads in reverence to the Chairwoman.