The Wolf's Queen Vows

Chapter 26: Divided Council

The fourth morning came heavy with silence. For days, the palace lived in quiet dread, every footstep and breath measured. When the spiritual healer finally emerged from Aveloria’s chamber, her hands still stained with dark residue from the extraction ritual, all eyes turned toward her.

The king was the first to speak. "Is it done?"

The healer, a gray-haired woman with sharp eyes, nodded slowly. "The poison has been drawn out completely. It was powerful, crafted with blood magic, but it no longer lives inside her. Her pulse is steady. Her spirit is healing. She will wake soon."

A murmur of relief swept through the gathered physicians and relatives. Alaric, the king, exhaled for the first time in days. "Thank the Moon," he whispered, pressing a hand to his chest. "She’s fought harder than any of us imagined."

The healer bowed her head slightly. "Your Majesty, she will be weak for a while. Her body has endured much. She needs peace, not noise. Let her rest until she wakes on her own."

"I’ll see to it," he said firmly.

By midday, the news had spread throughout the palace and beyond. The heiress had survived. Servants whispered with relief, soldiers relaxed their stance, but the council, the men who governed the laws of Lycanthria alongside the crown, were less peaceful.

The council chamber was filled. The room smelled of smoke and wine, the long table covered with documents and scrolls. Alaric sat at the head, his expression hard as stone, while twelve elders filled the seats before him.

Marek stood to one side, silent, tense. Theron stood near the king, his arms crossed and eyes dark with suspicion. Galen wasn’t present; he had stayed by Aveloria’s side.

"Now that she lives," one of the elders began, his tone sharp, "we must address what this means for the kingdom."

Alaric’s gaze lifted slowly. "What does it mean?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," the elder continued, his wrinkled hands tightening on the table. "The princess has gone through unnatural changes. First, she delays her wolf awakening far beyond the usual age. Then, when it finally comes, she collapses and nearly dies. And now poison from witches is found in her body? These are not coincidences. These are signs of instability." freēwēbnovel.com

The room filled with murmurs of agreement. Another elder, a stout man with a trimmed gray beard, leaned forward. "We cannot ignore that she carries four bonds. That alone defies the natural order. It has never happened before. Such a connection divides loyalty and weakens unity. The heiress is meant to lead all packs, not cause tension."

"An abomination," muttered another voice from the far end of the table. "Four mates from four powerful houses, that’s not fate. That’s manipulation. It’s dangerous."

Theron’s jaw tightened.

Alaric slammed his palm on the table. "Enough!"

The sound echoed through the chamber. "My daughter is no abomination. She is chosen by the Moon herself. You will watch your words."

But the elders weren’t finished.

"With respect, Your Majesty," said one of the oldest among them, his tone careful but firm, "the kingdom cannot afford sentiment. The people are whispering. They say her wolf form appeared too late, too suddenly. They say her power might come from something dark. Her multiple bonds—"

"—bind her to strong houses," Alaric interrupted, his eyes flashing. "They’ll ensure peace between our allies."

"Or," the elder countered, "they invite conflict among them. Already, we’ve seen the mates fight in your palace like rivals. What happens when she must choose one over the others? Will the kingdom split along with her heart?"

Marek’s fists clenched at his side.

Theron stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "If anyone here calls her unstable again, I’ll challenge you where you stand."

The room went still.

The elder frowned. "You threaten a council member, Alpha Theron?"

Theron’s voice was low, but steady. "I make a promise. She carries our bond, mine, Marek’s, Galen’s, and Lucien’s. That bond connects to power you can’t comprehend. You should be grateful it’s her leading, not one of you."

Marek stepped forward, voice clear. "You all talk as if she’s a curse when she’s the only reason Lycanthria still stands united. Allies guard every border because of her. Every pack still bends knee because she gives them reason to hope."

A murmur spread across the table.

"Years ago, she nearly died protecting this kingdom," Marek continued. "And while she was lying there, the only thing any of you could think of was how to replace her. You sit here acting like you care about balance when all you want is control."

Alaric didn’t stop him. The king watched quietly, pride and rage flickering behind his calm exterior.

"She’s stronger than all of us combined," Marek finished, his voice firm. "And when she wakes, she’ll remember who doubted her."

The eldest elder leaned back. "And what if she doesn’t wake, Marek?"

"What if she wakes, but she’s not the same?" Another elder added.

"Can you guarantee her mind hasn’t been corrupted by what she’s endured? Magic leaves marks."

Before Marek could answer, the doors burst open.

Everyone turned sharply.

Galen stood at the entrance, panting slightly, his clothes disheveled as if he had run straight from the royal wing. His eyes were wide with urgency.

"She’s awake," he said.

The words landed like a thunderclap.

The king rose instantly, pushing his chair back. "When?"

"Just now," Galen replied quickly. "She’s weak, but she opened her eyes. She asked for you."

For a moment, no one moved. Then Alaric was out the door before anyone else could react. Marek followed without hesitation. Theron trailed behind, his expression caught between relief and something else, fear.

The elders exchanged uneasy glances, the earlier debate now meaningless.

The palace corridors were alive again. News of the heiress’s awakening spread faster than wildfire. Servants whispered blessings as the king passed; guards straightened to attention.

When Alaric reached her chamber, he stopped briefly at the door, gathering himself. He hadn’t felt his heart race like this since the day she was born. He opened the door quietly and stepped inside.

Aveloria lay propped slightly against a pillow. Her face was pale, but her eyes, half-open, looked tired, but aware, following his movement. A faint, weak smile appeared on her lips when she saw him.

"Father," she said softly, her voice hoarse.

He crossed the room in two steps and sat beside her, gently taking her hand in both of his. "You scared the life out of me," he said, his voice trembling despite his effort to control it.

"I’m sorry," she whispered.

He shook his head. "No. You’ve done nothing wrong."

Her eyes flicked around the room briefly, noticing the physicians, the incense, the guards, the drawn curtains. "How long was I asleep?"

"Four days," he said quietly. "The healer drew out the poison. You’re safe now."

Aveloria’s brows furrowed. "Poison?"

He hesitated. "Yes. Someone tried to end your life."

Her lips parted in shock. "Who?"

"We don’t know yet," he said. "But I swear to you, whoever it was will not live long enough to try again."

She squeezed his hand weakly. "You can’t trust anyone, Father. Not yet."

His expression hardened. "I already don’t."

Behind them, Marek and Theron entered quietly. Galen remained near the door, watching. When Aveloria looked at them, her eyes softened slightly. She could feel their emotions through the bond: guilt, worry, and anger. It was overwhelming.

"You were all here?" she asked, voice faint.

"Yes," Marek said quickly. "We never left. We took turns standing guard."

Her gaze lingered on him, then shifted to Theron. "Did you two fight again?"

Theron exhaled. "Maybe."

That earned a small smile from her. "Of course you did." freewebnoveℓ.com

The king brushed a strand of hair from her face. "You should rest. The healer said your strength will return slowly."

"I will," she said, though her mind was spinning.

Even now, she could sense the tension in the air, the unease beyond her chamber walls. "The council met, didn’t they?" she asked.

Alaric’s silence was enough of an answer.

"They questioned me again," she said, quiet but certain. "Didn’t they?"

Alaric sighed. "Some of them. But it doesn’t matter. They can bark all they want. I won’t let them touch you."

"Father," she said weakly, "you can’t fight everyone. Not for me."

He looked down at her, eyes sharp. "I’ll fight the whole damn world if I have to."

The room fell quiet.

After a moment, Aveloria’s hand slipped from his, and she turned slightly toward the window. The faint glow of morning poured through the curtains. "Can I see it?" she whispered.

"The sunrise?" he asked.

She nodded.

He signaled the guards to pull the curtains aside. Light filled the room, warm and soft. Aveloria blinked repeatedly. It was the first sunlight she’d seen in days. Her fingers twitched slightly on the bedsheet, as if reaching for it.

Marek watched her with quiet relief. Theron’s jaw unclenched, and Galen looked like he could finally breathe.

Alaric leaned closer and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Rest, my child," he said softly. "You’re safe now. And when you’re strong enough, we’ll deal with those who dared to doubt you."

Her eyes closed slowly. "Promise?"

"I promise," he said.

And peace settled over the royal chamber for the first time in four days.

Outside the doors, whispers continued, and decisions waited to be made. But for now, the kingdom could breathe again.

The heiress of Lycanthria was awake.