Chapter 142 Chapter 141
Hours passed, dusk drew closer, but finally the council meeting was over. Disgruntled shifter nobles, both from the Weretiger and werewolf clans, filed out of the grand hall doors, mumbling to themselves, exhaustion etched on their faces. King Xenon had kept them in that council room from the crack of dawn to this very hour, denying them basic refreshments or any form of merriment till every issue between factions were settled.
It was a tactic they were powerless against. Shifters of any kind hated to be kept in a position for far too long, lest they grew restless and, in severe cases, began to lash out—but it wasn’t the case for this king. If he could, he would keep them for the entire day, making them deliberate on the same issues over and over again till they reached a solution.
He might have been their ruler for over a century, but the people were yet to accept him as theirs. And as unruly and violent as they were, this was the only way he could get them to bend to his will: detain them into submission. After every single person had rushed out of the palace, King Xenon finally walked out of the council room, flanked by soldiers.
Taller and more muscular than any other male present, he had lustrous two-toned hair that flowed over his shoulders, softening his domineering aura. With deep-set cerulean eyes, his poise and gait were more of a warrior than a king. However, past decades had added a particular weariness to his expression no one could see if they weren’t watching closely. And no one was; for many were too afraid to meet his eyes.
A figure standing in the corner caught his eye, and he dismissed the soldiers with him, motioning for the person to come closer.
“I see you have returned, Morvan,” he groaned, his voice tinged as he slowed his steps so the latter could catch up.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Morvan responded, falling into step with him.
“Was your mission successful?” Xenon asked, casting him a sideways glance.
“Yes, the girl has been brought into the palace and is now residing in the harem.”
Xenon made an unintelligible sound in his throat, resisting the urge to scoff. “You shouldn’t have bothered, though. Just because I made a decree decades ago to get me all the eligible young female nobles around us doesn’t mean you should constantly go out of your way to find one.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t do that, Your Majesty. We need to find you a female you can be compatible with. Just because we’ve encountered failures in the past doesn’t mean we should stop trying,” shifting closer, added in a lowered voice. "It strengthens your claim to the throne."
Xenon knew that. He knew that more than anyone. Ever since the Retaliation War he had embarked on to free enslaved Weretigers and eliminate all of the ruling werewolf family at that time, he had been looking for ways to make his claim to the throne permanent.
Over a century on the throne, he was still without an heir or mate to solidify his claim, and most of the people’s trust in him had begun to fade—if it hadn’t faded entirely already. The Weretiger clan feared he would turn out like his father, whose quest for an heir led to the fall of the entire clan, while the werewolves preyed on that opportunity to pull him away from his seat and take back ownership of what they believed he had defiled.
“And you think a human princess will be the answer to my problems?” he asked, glancing at Morvan. Morvan lowered his head, keeping his stance respectful. “We won’t know until you try, Your Majesty.”
Xenon heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes.
“I’m in no mood to see her or any female for that matter. Keep her in the harem and make sure she is well provided for. Also, have Ladrian deliver my suppressants. The last dose has been exhausted.”
Morvan raised his head, his eye widening in alarm. “But, Your Majesty, you know these things don’t work and cause more harm than good–”
A glare from Xenon shut him up. With an exhausted breath, Morvan lowered his head once more. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
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