Chapter Fifteen — The Weight of Suspicion
1164 Words
Kael’s POV
By dawn, the fortress already reeked of unease.
Servants whispered in corners. Courtiers spoke in hushed tones that silenced the moment I entered a hall. Even the guards—men I had trained myself—avoided my gaze, their loyalty bent under the weight of fear.
Fear was my father’s favorite weapon. It spread faster than fire, and it burned deeper.
I had seen it before—right before he began his purges, years ago, when he accused his own Beta of treason and gutted half the inner circle to make an example. The same tension hung in the air now.
And I knew, without being told, that this time the suspicion pointed toward me.
---
I found Jarek in the war room, hunched over a table cluttered with maps and sealed letters. The fire cast long shadows across the stone, and the smell of ink mixed with iron.
“You look like you’ve been waiting to tell me something unpleasant,” I said.
He didn’t look up. “I wanted to tell you before you heard it from someone else.”
“Go on.”
He straightened, his expression grim. “Your father’s been meeting privately with Lady Veyra.”
That didn’t surprise me. “He’s always liked the sound of her flattery.”
“This isn’t about flattery.” Jarek slid a folded parchment across the table. “She’s been whispering that the poisoning wasn’t aimed at the Luna.”
I unfolded the parchment, scanning the inked words—her handwriting, elegant and venomous.
The cup was switched, my lord. The poison meant for your son, not your Luna.
My stomach twisted.
“She claims you meant to frame her,” Jarek said. “That you planned the entire incident to humiliate your father and turn the council against him.”
I laughed once, hollow. “Convenient. She poisons Selene, gets caught in her own web, and spins a new one before the ink dries.”
“She’s desperate,” Jarek said. “And dangerous. Malrik’s listening.”
Of course he was. My father never needed truth to believe a lie—just a reason to feel powerful again.
“Has he said anything?”
“Not yet. But his men are watching you. Watching her. Watching everyone.” Jarek lowered his voice. “If you don’t move first, he’ll make a move for you.”
I folded the parchment slowly, forcing calm. “I won’t start a war I can’t finish.”
“You already started one,” he said quietly. “The day you came back.”
---
When Jarek left, I lingered in the war room alone.
My reflection glimmered faintly in the dark glass of the window—hollow eyes, sharper lines. The kind of face my father used to wear when plotting another purge.
I turned away from it.
The mate bond thrummed faintly beneath my ribs, a pulse that wasn’t mine. I didn’t need to see her to know Selene was awake, pacing perhaps, thinking too much. Always thinking.
A memory surfaced—her voice in the council chamber, soft but lethal as she spoke of Veyra, turning suspicion back on the woman without a single accusation. She’d outplayed everyone, including me.
And that terrified me more than it should have.
---
The door creaked.
Eryndor entered, his usual calm wrapped around him like smoke. He bowed slightly. “Lord Kael.”
“Spare the courtesies,” I said. “You’ve come with news.”
He hesitated, his eyes flickering with something almost… regretful. “The Alpha has summoned you to his private hall.”
I stilled. “Now?”
“He wishes to speak alone. About the Luna.”
Of course he did.
“Does he know she’s awake?”
“He knows everything worth knowing,” Eryndor said softly.
I studied the witch for a moment, trying to read what hid behind his stillness. “You’ve been close to him for years. You know how quickly he turns suspicion into execution.”
“Yes,” he said. “Which is why you should tread carefully. He doesn’t seek a conversation, Lord Kael. He seeks a confession.”
---
The walk to my father’s hall felt longer than it should. Every step echoed against stone like a heartbeat counting down. The guards outside didn’t meet my eyes when they opened the doors.
Malrik sat on his throne-like chair by the fire, a goblet of wine balanced in one hand. Veyra stood beside him, her face painted in innocence, her eyes sharp with triumph.
“Son,” Malrik said, smiling like a wolf. “I was just telling Lady Veyra how strange it is that my Luna keeps falling into danger only when you’re nearby.”
I met Veyra’s gaze, her smirk small but poisonous.
“If you’re suggesting I tried to poison your Luna,” I said evenly, “then you’ve grown more desperate than I thought.”
Veyra gasped delicately. “How can you say that, my lord? I only brought what I saw to your father’s attention.”
I stepped closer, voice low. “You’ve brought plenty to his attention before. Usually while wearing less clothing.”
Her painted lips twitched.
Malrik slammed his goblet onto the table, the wine splattering across the wood. “Enough! You think you can mock me in my own hall?”
I didn’t flinch. “I think you’re letting vipers whisper in your ear again. And you know what happens when you do that.”
His eyes narrowed. “Careful, boy.”
I smiled thinly. “Always.”
The tension in the room thickened, heavy with everything unspoken—the bond, the rebellion, the ghost of the woman we both wanted power over in different ways.
Finally, Malrik leaned back, his tone deceptively light. “You’ll be leaving for the borderlands soon. The northern packs have grown bold again. You’ll remind them who leads.”
So that was his move. Exile dressed as command.
“As you wish,” I said quietly.
But as I turned to leave, Veyra’s voice drifted after me like silk soaked in poison. “Do send your regards to the Luna before you go, Lord Kael. I hear she misses your company.”
I paused just long enough to meet her gaze. “If I were you, Lady Veyra, I’d spend less time speaking her name—and more time watching my own cup.”
Her smirk faltered, just slightly.
Then I left.
---
The corridors outside were cold, the air thick with torch smoke. I moved quickly, my thoughts already shifting.
My father thought he’d outmaneuvered me. He hadn’t.
Veyra thought she’d turned suspicion away from herself. She hadn’t either.
Because while they schemed with poison and politics, Selene was already building a trap of her own.
And when it snapped shut, I intended to be standing right beside her—whether she wanted me there or not.
---
- Writer
