The Wolf's Queen Vows

Chapter 48: The Alpha’s anger

The palace infirmary smelled of herbs, blood, and incense. It was always busy after a skirmish, but that night, it felt heavier. The healers were rushing between beds, their hands stained red, their voices low but urgent.

Aveloria was present, watching everything unfold with worry on her expression. Galen was barely conscious now, his breathing shallow and his outfit soaked in blood. Her armor was streaked with dirt and gore, her braid half undone, but she didn’t care.

"I’ll tend to him myself," she said sharply. "Get me bandages, water, and clean clothes," Aveloria ordered.

One of the healers froze. "Heiress, please, let us handle this—"

"I said get them!" she snapped. Her voice was loud enough to make everyone in the room stop.

The healer nodded quickly and hurried away.

Aveloria knelt beside Galen, her hands trembling as she tried to unfasten his chest plate. The straps were soaked and slippery with blood. She fumbled with them, growing frustrated.

"Hold still," she muttered.

"I’m not moving," Galen said weakly, his lips curved in a faint smile despite the pain. "You look worse than I do."

She glared at him, her throat tight. "You shouldn’t joke right now."

His smile widened slightly. "You’re shaking."

"I know," she said under her breath.

When she finally got the armor off, the wound became visible. Deep claw marks ran across his ribs and shoulder. Blood soaked through his undershirt, dripping onto the sheets. She pressed a cloth against it, trying to stop the bleeding.

He winced but didn’t pull away. "It’s not fatal," he murmured. "You should rest."

"Don’t tell me to rest," she said sharply. "You almost died out there."

"But I didn’t."

"That’s not the point."

Her hands were slick with his blood. She pressed harder, ignoring how much her fingers shook. The healer returned with a tray of supplies, clean cloths, bandages, and a water bowl. But before Aveloria could reach for them, another physician came forward.

"Heiress, with respect," the older woman said firmly, "you shouldn’t do this yourself. Let us tend to him."

"I can do it," Aveloria insisted. "He fought for me. I won’t leave him like this."

The physician shook her head. "If you want him to live, you’ll let us help. He’s lost too much blood already."

Aveloria hesitated, her eyes locked on Galen’s pale face. He gave her a faint nod.

"Let them," he said softly. "Please."

She finally leaned back, her chest rising and falling heavily. The healers moved quickly, cleaning and stitching the wounds with steady hands. Aveloria sat beside the bed, silent, watching every movement.

When the worst was done and the bleeding slowed, Galen turned his head slightly toward her.

"You should see your face," he said quietly. "You look like someone who just fought a war alone."

"I almost did," she replied.

His laugh was weak. "I told you, I’ll be fine."

Her hand found his on the bed, fingers curling around his. She could feel the heat of his skin, and his pulse was faint but steady through the bond.

"Stop trying to protect me," she whispered.

"It’s my job. It’s what I swore to do." He murmured.

"You’re not my guard," she said, her voice cracking.

"I’m your Beta and mate," he corrected gently. "And I’m glad you’re safe."

Her throat tightened. His loyalty hurt to hear. It was the kind that came from years of service, the type that didn’t bend even when it nearly killed him.

"I thought I lost you," she admitted.

"You won’t lose me that easily," he said, forcing a smile. "You’ll have to try harder."

She didn’t laugh. Her grip on his hand tightened instead. Her eyes were red, and the blood on her hands had started to dry.

One of the physicians said softly, "Heiress, he needs to rest now."

Aveloria hesitated again, then nodded slowly. She leaned closer, whispering, "Rest, Galen. Please."

He closed his eyes, still smiling faintly. "Only because you asked nicely."

Within minutes, his breathing evened out. The healers covered him with a clean sheet and moved to tend to the next wounded soldier.

Aveloria didn’t move for a long time. She sat there, her hand still on his, her eyes fixed on his face. The guilt and relief tangled inside her chest until it hurt to breathe.

She didn’t notice when Theron entered the infirmary, but he saw her immediately. His clothes were still streaked with dirt, his hair damp with sweat. His expression was grim.

He stopped beside her and looked down at Galen. "How bad?"

"The wounds were deep," Aveloria said quietly. "But he’ll recover."

Theron nodded. "Good."

She looked up at him. "Where’s Father?"

"In the council room with the other. They were discussing your patrol." Theron said shortly.

Aveloria stood, her eyes narrowing. "Without me?"

"They thought it best to wait until you returned," Theron replied. "But I’m not waiting. I’ll handle them myself."

"Theron—"

He was already walking away.

When Theron arrived, the council chamber was loud. Voices overlapped as the elders argued about strategy, patrol routes, and the rising threat of the Wanderers.

The moment he stepped through the door, the noise stopped. Everyone turned. The look on Theron’s face made most of them lower their eyes.

He didn’t sit. He walked straight to the center of the room, his boots echoing on the stone floor.

"Who gave the order?" he asked flatly.

The eldest councilman cleared his throat. "Alpha Theron—"

"Don’t ’Alpha Theron’ me," he said sharply. "Who gave the order to send Aveloria out there?"

The council exchanged uneasy looks.

"It was a joint decision," another elder said carefully. "The patrols had gone silent near the northern ridge. We needed someone to investigate. The Heiress volunteered—"

"She’s not supposed to be anywhere near that border!" Theron’s voice was low but filled with fury. "There are protocols for a reason. You know what those creatures are capable of."

"She’s the heir," the man countered.

"She wanted to see the threat herself." Another added.

"She’s also the future of this realm!" Theron shot back. "You don’t send your future queen into a nest of monsters!"

The elder straightened his shoulders. "With all due respect, Alpha, she’s trained. She’s capable. And she was accompanied by the Beta."

"Galen is half-dead in the infirmary because of your joint decision," Theron said coldly.

Another elder interjected, "The Heiress handled herself well. Reports say she killed more Wanderers than most of the patrol combined."

Theron’s eyes flashed. "That’s not the point. You’re lucky she came back at all. If she hadn’t—" He stopped, clenching his jaw. "If she hadn’t, none of you would be standing here now."

There was a tense silence.

One of the older advisers tried to speak. "Theron, you’re out of line—"

Theron turned on him so fast the man froze. "Say that again."

The man swallowed. "I—I just meant—"

"You think I’m out of line for caring whether she lives or dies?" Theron took a step closer. "You think because I don’t belong here, I should stand here quietly while you risk her life?"

"Theron," King Alaric’s voice broke through from the head of the table.

The room fell silent again.

Alaric had been sitting quietly through the exchange, his expression unreadable. He leaned forward slightly. "That’s enough."

Theron exhaled slowly, his anger still visible.

The king looked around the room. "This meeting is dismissed."

The elders hesitated, glancing at each other. Alaric’s eyes hardened. "Now."

Chairs scraped back, robes rustled, and one by one they filed out, keeping their eyes down as they passed Theron.

When the last door closed, only the king and Theron remained.

Alaric rose from his seat and walked to the window, staring at the courtyard below. "She’s safe?"

Theron nodded once. "She’s alive. Tired, but unhurt. Galen took most of the damage."

Alaric sighed, the tension in his shoulders visible. "You have my thanks for arriving when you did."

"I didn’t come for thanks," Theron said quietly.

The king turned to face him. "How did you even know? The patrol wasn’t public information."

Theron hesitated. "I have ears within the court."

Alaric’s brow lifted. "Spies?"

"Informants," Theron corrected. "People loyal to me. They tell me when something involves Aveloria."

The king crossed his arms. "You’re monitoring my court?"

"I’m protecting her," Theron said firmly. "If I hadn’t known, she would be dead right now."

Alaric studied him for a long moment. "You’re overstepping."

"Then I’ll overstep again if it keeps her breathing," Theron said.

The king’s expression softened slightly, though the lines around his mouth stayed tense. "You care for her deeply."

"You know I do," Theron replied. "I’ve watched her train, lead, and grow into everything this realm needs. But she doesn’t see the danger the way I do." fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

"She sees it, she just refuses to be ruled by fear," Alaric said quietly.

Theron’s jaw tightened. "And you let her?"

"She’s my daughter," Alaric said. "I don’t command her like a soldier."

"Then let me," Theron said.

The king gave him a long, measured look. "That’s not your place."

"I’m not asking for a place," Theron said, stepping closer. "I’m asking for a promise. If anything happens that concerns her safety, anything at all, you send word to me. Immediately."

Alaric’s eyes narrowed. "You’re telling your king what to do?"

"I’m asking a father to protect his daughter," Theron said.

The room went still.

The king’s hand dropped from his armrest. His gaze softened for a moment, then shifted away toward the window.

"You came too close to losing her today," Theron continued. "If I hadn’t been nearby—"

"She survived. She’s stronger than you think." Alaric interrupted.

"I know exactly how strong she is, and that’s why I worry," Theron replied quietly.

The silence between them stretched again. Finally, Alaric gave a faint nod. "Fine. If anything happens that involves her, I’ll inform you."

Theron’s shoulders eased slightly. "Thank you."

"But, Theron," Alaric added, his tone firm again, "if you undermine the council like this again, I’ll have no choice but to discipline you. Is that understood?"

Theron met his eyes. "Understood. As long as she’s safe."

The king turned back toward the window, dismissing him with a wave.

Theron bowed slightly, more a gesture of respect than obedience, and left the chamber.

Outside, the hallways were quiet. Theron’s boots echoed softly as he walked.

He went back through the infirmary. Through the half-open door, he saw Aveloria still sitting beside Galen’s bed, unmoving, her head bowed slightly. Her hands were clasped in her lap now, but her posture was tense.

For a moment, he considered going in. Then he stopped himself. She needed space to breathe, process, and be herself without command or pity.

He leaned against the wall for a moment, exhaling slowly. His body ached from shifting, fighting, and holding in his rage. But the image that wouldn’t leave his mind was her standing in the clearing, surrounded by Wanderers, her sword flashing in the dark.

He’d never been so terrified. And he’d never been so proud.

After a long moment, he straightened and walked away down the corridor, his expression unreadable. The palace was silent again, but the weight of what had happened lingered in the air, warning of what was still coming.