Chapter Eight - The Crowned Snake Pit
1400 Words
The grand hall of the Crimson Court was a cathedral of elegance—and a cage of gilded venom.
Marble pillars etched with the stories of generations loomed overhead, crimson banners sweeping down from the vaulted ceiling. Thousands of candlelit flames danced along the golden chandeliers, bathing the chamber in a warm glow that did nothing to dull the tension thick in the air.
Kaelin stood at the base of the throne dais, a vision in deep forest green, the silk clinging to her frame in waves of shadow. Her eyes—bright, wary, defiant—scanned the sea of watching wolves.
Alphas. Betas. High nobles. Lower lords. The elite of Theron’s empire.
And all of them looked at her like she was either a miracle… or a mistake.
“A lowborn omega?” she overheard one whisper. “She should be serving wine, not sitting beside the king.”
“She passed the trials,” said another.
“Maybe she cheated.”
“She’s dangerous. I can smell it.”
Kaelin kept her spine straight, chin high.
She was used to stares. She’d grown up under the weight of contempt—learned to bear it like armor.
But this?
This was different.
This was war dressed in velvet.
“Look at them,” a low voice murmured beside her. “They already want your throat.”
Kaelin didn’t flinch as Theron stepped up to her side, wearing his ceremonial regalia—a long black coat stitched with silver threads, his crown forged from obsidian and bone. Power clung to him like a second skin.
“So I’ve noticed,” she muttered.
“Are you afraid?”
“I don’t have time to be afraid.”
A pause.
Then, with a voice meant only for her: “Good. Because I’ve just declared you Crown Omega of the High North.”
Kaelin blinked.
“What?”
Theron turned, raising his hand.
“The trials are complete,” he boomed to the gathered court. “And she stands as the last one left standing. Stronger than any noble pup you’ve tried to throw at me. Smarter than half my advisors. Fierce enough to spill blood—and wise enough to know when not to.”
He stepped closer to her.
And then, to her shock, knelt.
“I name you Kaelin of the Hollow Moon. My Crown Omega.”
The room exploded.
Shouts. Gasps. Growls.
And one sharp voice from the gallery: “This is madness!”
A tall alpha in gold-embroidered robes stormed forward, face flushed with fury.
Lord Vale.
Head of the South River Clans. Former suitor to the throne. Old friend of Theron’s deceased father—and an enemy Kaelin had never even met… until now.
“She’s unbonded,” Vale snarled. “Unmated. She carries no noble blood, has no ties to any house, no claim to—”
“I don’t care about blood,” Theron said flatly.
Vale sneered. “No? Then what do you care about? How fast she learned to kneel?”
Kaelin’s eyes flashed.
Before she could move, Theron had stepped down the dais.
In a blink, he was in front of Vale—taller, broader, a wall of cold fury.
“You forget yourself, Vale.”
“I forget nothing. Least of all what happened to your mother when you trusted an outsider—”
Theron’s hand snapped out, grabbing Vale by the collar.
The entire hall froze.
Kaelin’s pulse spiked.
Theron leaned in close. “Say one more word,” he whispered, “and I’ll have your tongue hung from the gates.”
Vale paled.
When Theron finally released him, the lord stumbled back and bowed stiffly.
“I withdraw,” he hissed.
And vanished into the crowd.
Kaelin stared at Theron.
“You just made an enemy,” she said softly.
He glanced back at her. “So did he.”
---
Later that evening, Kaelin stood on the balcony overlooking the torchlit palace grounds, hands braced against the rail. Her reflection shimmered in the icy window glass, pale and quiet.
She didn’t feel victorious.
She felt like prey with a crown on her head.
Footsteps behind her broke the silence.
She didn’t need to turn to know it was him.
Theron leaned beside her, resting his forearms on the stone rail.
“I meant what I said,” he murmured.
“That I’m your Crown Omega?”
“No.” His lips curled. “That you’re smarter than half my advisors.”
Kaelin gave a dry laugh. “That’s not a compliment. Half of them looked ready to skin me.”
“That’s because they see what I see.”
She looked at him.
He looked tired. A shadow of something old and painful hung in his eyes.
“You’re a threat,” he said.
“Not to you.”
“To the way things have always been.”
He turned fully toward her now, close enough to touch. His scent—stormwind and spice—wrapped around her like a noose.
“You are what this court fears,” he said. “A nobody who earned power instead of inheriting it. A wolf who kneels to no one.”
She tilted her head. “And what do you fear, Your Majesty?”
He was quiet for a moment. Then: “Bonding with someone who might break me.”
Kaelin froze.
Her heart beat once. Twice.
Then she stepped back.
“You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why?”
“Because I already have too many reasons to run.”
He looked at her, unreadable.
Then nodded once.
And left.
---
That night, Kaelin couldn’t sleep.
Not because of the plush bed or the silk sheets. Not even because of the echoing threat of Lord Vale or the dozens of nobles now plotting her downfall.
No.
She couldn’t sleep because of him.
Because of the way he looked at her like she was more than just a title. Because of the way her wolf leaned toward his even when she resisted.
Because something ancient inside her—something soft and trembling and long buried—was whispering words she didn’t want to hear.
Mate.
But she didn’t believe in fate.
Not anymore.
---
At dawn, a knock rapped on her door.
She opened it to find a young beta messenger.
“His Majesty requests your presence in the war room.”
“Now?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Kaelin dressed swiftly and followed the messenger through a series of halls she didn’t yet know. The war room was nothing like the court chambers—it was dark, warm, and humming with tension.
Theron stood at the head of a long table littered with maps and sealed scrolls. Beside him: General Elric, the grizzled warhound of the northern front, and a few high-ranked sentinels.
Kaelin was the only omega in the room.
Again.
She didn’t flinch.
“You summoned me,” she said.
Theron looked up. “Yes. Because you’ve earned your place.”
He gestured to a map pinned with red markers across the southern border.
“We’ve had rogue attacks along the Duskwater River. Four packs hit. Two elders killed. They’re not random raids anymore.”
Elric scowled. “We suspect organized movement. Someone is funding them.”
Kaelin stepped closer.
“The South Rivers,” she said. “Vale’s territory.”
Theron gave her a sharp nod. “Exactly.”
Kaelin scanned the map. “Then we’ll need scouts. Fast ones. If Vale’s moving pieces behind your back, we can’t rely on open confrontation. We need to catch him with his own words.”
Elric raised a brow. “She thinks like a war strategist.”
“She survived war,” Theron said.
Kaelin looked between them. “What do you need me to do?”
Theron held her gaze.
“Be ready. In three days, we ride to the border.”
Kaelin blinked. “We?”
“You’re Crown Omega,” he said. “And I don’t leave you behind.”
---
That night, as she prepared for bed, a knock came again.
She expected a summons.
Instead, she found a small parcel on the floor.
Wrapped in leather. No seal.
Inside: a dagger.
And a note.
"From one wolf in the pit to another. Trust no one. Not even the king."
---
- Writer
