Chapter 16, The Command of the King
Wren
The front yard of the Great Hall was a chaotic hive of activity lit by the sickly yellow glow of the overhead streetlights.
The hum of the village’s power grid sat beneath the sound of snarling wolves.
Men were shifting in the shadows. The sound of snapping bone and tearing fabric filled the air as Silas’s warriors prepared for a midnight slaughter.
“Get back, Wren!” my father barked as he shoved past me. He stood near the base of a light pole, his shadow long and jagged on the pavement. “This isn’t for you. Get inside the Hall and stay there!”
I didn’t move. My feet felt rooted to the gravel. It wasn’t the sound of engines approaching. It was the sound of paws. They were paws so heavy they felt like heartbeats in the earth, coming from the dark road that led into the village.
I reached out and grabbed my father’s sleeve. “Please, Dad,” I whispered. My voice was trembling. “Something is coming.”
He paused and looked down at me with irritation. “Wren, not now. We have to move before.”
“Dad! No,” I cut him off, my eyes fixed on the dark treeline at the edge of the square. “Something big. It’s already here.”
He frowned, his eyes narrowing as he finally tried to listen.
A second later, the barking and snarling of the pack warriors cut off.
A silence so sudden and absolute fell over the yard that it felt like the world had stopped breathing.
Even the hum of the streetlights seemed to dim as three shapes appeared at the edge of the light.
Silas, who had been barking orders, froze. His jaw dropped. His icy eyes were wide with a mixture of terror and utter bewilderment. He wasn’t just surprised. He was reeling.
Emerging from the darkness, they stepped onto the pavement.
I gasped and my hand flew to my lips. These were monsters from a forgotten age.
In the center was a Lycan so massive its back was level with the height of a grown man.
To its left was a female Lycan with a coat of brass-brown that shimmered like heated metal.
To the right was a third Lycan, a near-white creature that looked like a statue carved from winter ice, his nose closest to the ground, looking menacing.
Each of their steps were deliberate. As they entered the yard, the pack members who had already shifted backed away, their tails tucking involuntarily. Silas looked like he had been struck by lightning, his body trembling as he stared at the massive golden creature.
The lead Lycan stopped in the middle of the yard.
In a fluid, bone-crunching motion, he reared up and shifted.
He was a titan, broad-shouldered and scarred, his presence eclipsing the light of the streetlamps.
He had to be the King. Behind him, the brass-furred female and the white male remained in their Lycan forms, circling the perimeter of the yard.
They moved behind the crowd, their eyes never blinking as they cut off any hope of retreat.
“You’re not going anywhere, Silas,” the King said. His voice was a low growl that made the asphalt beneath my feet vibrate.
“Your Majesty,” Silas stammered. The Alpha of High-Ridge, usually so loud and demanding, sounded like a child. He tried to pull his dignity together, but he was literally shaking. “The Night-Stalkers... they crossed the border. They attacked a patrol. We were merely…”
“SILENCE.” The King released his Alpha Command.
It hit the yard like a shockwave. The air turned to iron. All around me, I heard the thud of bodies hitting the pavement. Sentinels, warriors, and pups were slammed down instantly, their faces pressed against the cold asphalt. I even saw Killian on his knees.
But at the front of the pack, the air seemed to ripple with resistance. Silas stood his ground, his face red with the effort of fighting the King’s will. Beside him, my father and Rorik planted their feet, their bodies trembling under the pressure.
And then there was me.
I didn’t have a rank, but that silver-cold light flared in my mind, anchoring me to the spot. I stayed standing, my breath hitching in my throat, staring directly at the King.
The King’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Silas, then Arthur, then Rorik, and finally, his gaze locked onto mine.
His brow furrowed in genuine curiosity. He didn’t look away from me.
He took a slow step forward, his golden eyes burning into mine with a lethal intensity.
Then, his lips curled. It wasn’t a snarl.
It was a slow, predatory smirk, the look of a king who had just found something interesting.
“I said,” the King growled. His voice dropped an octave, the sound vibrating in my very marrow as he doubled the crushing weight of his command. He spoke directly to me, his gaze never wavering. “KNEEL.”
This time, the weight was absolute.
Silas let out a choked grunt as his knees hit the pavement with a heavy thud. Beside him, my father and Rorik buckled. They dropped to one knee, heads bowed in forced submission.
I went down with them. My knees hit the cold pavement with a sharp crack, and I had to plant my hands on the ground to keep from being flattened. I was on my knees, gasping for air as the world pressed down on my shoulders.
“You will take your Beta and your Gamma,” the King commanded, his eyes still burning as he looked over the broken pack. “And you will arrive at the border at Serpent’s Neck at midnight. I will be there with my Beta and Gamma. So will Skarde with his. We will speak. Pull back your order. NOW.”
The command rippled through the air, and Silas’s voice was a strained, humiliated rasp. “As... you... command... Majesty.”
The King turned his back on Silas, but before he shifted back into his Lycan form, he lingered on me. He didn’t look at me with pity. He looked at me with a dangerous, sharp curiosity.
“Midnight, Silas,” the King’s voice drifted back from the darkness. “And don’t bring your lies. I can smell the cowardice on your men from the gates.”