Chapter 34
Chapter
Thirty-Four
Layla’s fate was sealed in the south dungeon, a mercy extended by the King due to their shared lineage.
My disposition mirrored my father’s, most of my decisions laced with an undeniable touch of humanity that often acted as my compass, steering me away from violent confrontations—a trait not typically associated with a werewolf Queen.
Torin and I had joined the Alphas and the King for a meeting to talk about the terrible things that had happened in the hidden chambers of the dungeon.
My father’s response was exactly what one would expect from a man who loved his child; he enveloped me in an embrace so tight it threatened to squeeze the air out of my lungs.
The King then acknowledged Torin with a firm handshake.
Tasting the Princess’s blood didn’t count against him, since he was cornered into doing so within the confines of his prison cell.
I alone was privy to Torin’s self-restraint—he wouldn't have harmed me or indulged himself otherwise.
But now that we had evidence of his control over his vampire instincts, even our King seemed ready to bow before this Alpha.
Despite this, I couldn’t shake off my frown. Unmasking the remaining werewolf traitor lurking within our midst before more damage could be done preoccupied my mind.
The following day, after being thoroughly examined by royal physicians, Torin and I finally joined the high-ranking werewolves in the boardroom.
As a child engrossed in tales about King Arthur and his knights, I’d always imagined Dad’s conference table as a fantastical version of The Round Table—a grand epicenter—straight out of those stories.
The circular table in Dad’s boardroom was simple yet elegant, smoothly polished, but it felt wrong somehow.
It seemed too plain for what it was meant to do.
Too plain for such an authoritative gathering presided over by our King and Alphas.
Too polished to bear the weight of legendary tales and honor.
The table was meant to symbolize unity, collaboration, trust, and respect. It should have narrated a tale of its own but felt cold and unwise now.
As I took my seat between Torin and Hayden, I realized that what I’d once perceived as a sacred space—a place where high-ranking werewolves gathered with shared goals under the guidance of values depicted in the artwork hanging on the walls—might be tainted by traitors.
Alpha Henry, my father’s closest friend, broke the uneasy silence. “Thank you for saving the Princess and exposing the traitors,” he said earnestly. “We were wrong to doubt you and fear you, Alpha Torin. You have proven us otherwise.”
I studied Henry closely. His voice rang true, devoid of sarcasm or hidden intentions.
Alpha Leo turned towards Torin with a smile. “Your love for Princess Breanna must be powerful to overcome your thirst.”
Hayden’s breath hitched beside me, but I didn't dare glance at him, fearful of what emotions might be etched on his face.
“Would you like to take on the Alpha position of the Nighteye pack?” Leo asked.
Torin’s smile looked slightly off-kilter—it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“The current Beta can step up, or if a stronger contender is willing to challenge him…” He turned towards me with an unnervingly broad grin. “I have more unfinished business here.”
A chill ran down my spine as I glanced at Hayden from my peripheral vision. His usual jovial demeanor had vanished, replaced by a hardened expression.
The Alphas bowed their heads in respect to Alpha Torin. The kingdom had accepted him, yet that fact no longer weighed on my heart.
My father filled a glass with water, and after quenching his thirst, he turned his attention to Torin.
“Your assistance is appreciated,” Dad said, his voice echoing in the room. “I declare you as one of Breanna’s potential mates. However, the final decision rests with her.”
The room became a sea of supernatural eyes fixated on me. I gave my father an appreciative nod and received a warm smile. Meanwhile, Torin crossed his arms and stared at the table as if searching for my answer etched into its wooden grain.
Hayden shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking like a giant cramped into a child’s chair. I rubbed my sweaty hands on my pants while everyone held their breaths for my declaration about who I would choose as a mate.
Torin would never mark me, and I could not envision myself living with him. He was incapable of providing the family life I craved and was not ready to settle for less. Was it selfishness? A fleeting thought crossed my mind about accepting Torin’s terms, but it left an unpleasant taste.
Torin’s willingness to die for me contrasted starkly with his reluctance to share his past. He was fractured beyond repair, and no amount of effort from me could mend him.
And while duty and loyalty bound me to Hayden, passion did not ignite within me at his presence—only the forceful pull of our bond stirred physical reactions but failed to quicken my heartbeat.
Making a choice seemed impossible…or rather undesirable.
Alpha Henry drummed impatient fingers against the table while sighs filled the tense silence in the room.
“I need more time,” I finally said, steadying my trembling voice. “I must understand why I lack a wolf spirit and who my true, fated mate is. These details matter to me.”
It was just another excuse.
A puzzle piece was missing, but my heart yearned for Torin despite the uncertainty. He had been accepted as one of my mates, but I held back from rushing into his embrace, though every fiber of my being urged me to.
My father cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “All right, Anna. The marking ritual will be postponed for now,” he announced hurriedly, trying to shield me from backlash. “As a token of gratitude for Alpha Torin’s help in unmasking the traitor within our kingdom, he may keep the sword.”
I couldn’t help but smile at Dad.
His hand rose, clutching the hilt. The sword Torin had been forced to surrender upon entering our kingdom now lay in my father’s hands. He tossed it across the table towards Torin, who easily caught it midair.
As soon as his fingers wrapped around the hilt, the blade extended outwards, causing a ripple of gasps throughout the room.
My surprise wasn’t so much about this magical artifact but rather at my father’s decision to part with it.
This unique, enchanted blade—shorter than standard werewolf swords and curved at its tip—bore engravings of the pentagrams and four symbols.
It radiated an ethereal magic that transcended our mortal realm.
The sword shimmered with a silver sheen in Torin’s hands. It had a regal and elegant presence, hinting at stories of old mysteries I wanted to know. The vibrant energy pulsed beneath Torin’s fingertips as he held it aloft, causing everyone to stare in awe.
When I looked at Hayden, I did a double take.
His face was a canvas of confusion, etched with many emotions.
A flicker of anger seemed to dance behind his sapphire eyes, but it might have been my imagination playing tricks on me.
His gaze remained fixated on the sword blade that hummed softly, its vibrations filling the air with its magic.
Hayden looked entranced, his behavior odd and out of character. His lips parted slightly, as if words were on the brink of spilling from his mouth.
“My King,” he muttered, “where did this sword originate?”
His voice trembled, betraying his calm facade. If Dad had kept this weapon hidden all these years without Hayden’s knowledge, then surely he wouldn’t have allowed Hayden access to his vault—despite claiming that Hayden knew about its existence along with the secret tunnels.
The King raised an eyebrow at him. “Given recent revelations about Anna’s biological mother being a witch,” he said, “it shouldn’t come as a surprise that she gifted me this.”
Shock registered on Hayden’s face. His eyes expanded to their maximum capacity while his eyebrows arched towards his hairline. His complexion paled dramatically as if all color had been drained away by some unseen force.
His usual composed demeanor crumbled like sand through fingers, revealing raw emotions that he usually hid behind practiced masks. Suspicion prickled at my senses as I studied my mate’s reaction.
“Hayden,” I said, “have you seen this sword before?”
Without tearing his gaze from the blade, Hayden replied, “I've seen one similar in a book. Or perhaps it was the same one… I can't be certain.”
Strange.
“And what did the book say about it?” I pressed.
Hayden responded mechanically, as if his words were pre-programmed. “There were two special swords, one for a Queen and one for a King. This is the Queen’s sword.”
My stomach twisted into knots. Witches weren’t known to wield swords—their power lay in casting spells. How then was this sword connected to my witch mother? Was she some sort of Queen? And if so, who possessed the King’s sword, and where was it?
And why was Hayden acting out of character when it came to this sword?
“I’d like to read about it in your book. May I borrow it?” I asked.
Hayden’s gaze snapped to mine with such intensity that I felt an involuntary shiver run down my spine. His eyes bore into me with an authoritative force—the look of a powerful man, not the familiar, easy-going bodyguard who shadowed my every move.
His gaze seemed to penetrate deep into my very soul, captivating me with its strength. The absence of warmth and empathy in his eyes left me speechless.
And then just as suddenly, that intense look vanished, replaced by his carefree smile.
“Of course, sweetheart,” he said softly. “I’ll see if I can locate that book for you.”
Torin wielded the sword through the air before tossing it abruptly towards Hayden, with the blade still extended. My other mate caught the hilt deftly. I kept track of those who could activate this magical weapon—Torin and Hayden could but not my father.
The way Hayden held on to the hilt disconcerted me—his grip firm as he studied the witch symbols etched on its surface without blinking. He fell silent as though lost in some distant memory he wouldn’t share while his knuckles turned white from gripping too hard.
The strange gleam in Hayden’s eyes unsettled me, but what truly unnerved me was the powerful supernatural aura that seemed to radiate from him once he held the magic sword. It hit me like a tidal wave, leaving me breathless.
My instincts were rarely wrong, but I hoped this would be one of those rare instances. Because something dangerous lurked in the shadows just out of sight, revealing itself only when Hayden touched the sword.
The room filled with the murmurs of the other Alphas, their voices weaving into a low hum. They requested Hayden pass around the hilt, each wanting to study it closely. Would the blade open for any of them?
Alpha Henry was the first to try, his rough fingers closing over the hilt.
But as soon as he did, the blade vanished into thin air.
He moved his hand through the space as if trying to coax it back into existence, but nothing happened.
He passed it along to Alpha Leo and Michael, but they, too, were met with stubborn resistance from the blade.
It seemed that only my mates and I could command this weapon. The boardroom became a cacophony of overlapping voices, everyone speaking out of turn in excitement or frustration.
I glanced at Hayden. He sat rigidly in his chair, his gaze fixed on the now-bladeless hilt with an intensity that made my heart ache. His eyes shimmered with unusual brightness—sorrow etched deep within them—as if he yearned for something—or someone—connected to this sword.
Another missing piece of the puzzle I was determined to uncover.
When Dad called off the meeting prematurely due to a lack of focus among us all, Hayden rose from his seat and left without waiting for me, which was unusual.
I had entered this room hoping to expose a traitor. Instead, I was back at square one. It was clear that whoever we were dealing with held considerable power within our kingdom.
Before leaving, Torin pulled me aside and whispered urgently, “Anna…Hayden’s reaction—it’s not normal.”
“I noticed,” I said quietly. “There's a connection between him and that sword—he’s seen it before.”
Hayden had been keeping secrets from me—I knew that much—but I hadn’t expected them to be so deep-rooted…so personal.
My head began to throb, a dull ache pulsating behind my eyes. I was growing weary of the endless speculation and uncertainty. The realization that Hayden and Torin had been keeping secrets from me stung me more than I cared to admit.
Everyone including Torin left the boardroom. When we were alone, Dad gestured for me to stay.
He looked at me with a weight in his eyes that caused a sense of heaviness in my heart. Dad grasped my shoulders gently, as if he wanted to shake some sense into me.
“Anna,” he began, his voice carrying an edge of urgency, “we’ve talked about this before… It’s your birthright—the throne is yours.”
I’d delayed the marking and coronation rituals until now, but time was running out. His impatience hung in the air between us like a tangible thing.
“Dad,” I said softly, “I don't think I’m ready to face the vampire Queen. I don’t even have a wolf spirit.”
He shook his head firmly at my words. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, his grip on my shoulders tightening slightly.
His gaze bore into mine with such intensity that it took my breath away.
“The vampire Queen will come—there’s no doubt about it—and when she does, she’ll ruin our kingdom if you don’t accept your birthright.” His voice echoed around the room as he painted a grim picture of what awaited us—extinction, torture, and destruction.
I was going to be the next werewolf Queen—a fate I couldn’t avoid, after all.
“You have forty-eight hours to figure out your magic book, Anna,” Dad said in his authoritative voice reserved for his Alphas.
I had requested more time before I could choose a mate, and Dad was unwilling to wait more than two days…for the sake of our kingdom and our survival.
I gave him a nod, accepting my destiny.
With a two-day reprieve, the ticking clock echoed in my mind, reminding me of the responsibilities that awaited me—ascending the throne, even though I lacked a wolf spirit, and choosing a mate to rule by my side.