Chapter 259 Severed Chains

Chapter 259 Severed Chains

The heavy wooden doors of the pack hall groaned against the stone as they swung open.

Outside, the morning sun cut sharp rays through the dust, but inside, the air felt thick, heavy with the collective breath of a hundred wolves waiting in the dim light.

Every bench was filled. The elders sat toward the front, their grey hair catching the torchlight, murmuring low among themselves.

Behind them, warriors and lower-ranked pack members shifted their weight, their boots scraping against the cold floor. Everyone could feel the weight of the summons. A king did not call a full-pack gathering for ordinary matters.

Near the raised dais, standing just a few paces from the empty throne, stood Felda and Tovanna.

Felda’s fingers nervously twisted the coarse fabric of her slave tunic. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. Beside her, Tovanna kept her chin tucked, though her eyes darted every few seconds upward toward the grand throne, searching for a face she barely knew yet longed to claim as her father.

Then came the heavy, measured thud of boots echoing down the stone corridor.

"The King has arrived!" a guard at the entrance barked, his voice bouncing off the high rafters.

King Daze strode into the hall. His long dark cloak billowed slightly behind him, and his royal guards marched in lockstep at his flanks, their polished armor gleaming dully in the torchlight. As he moved past, every wolf in the hall dropped into a deep bow, heads lowered in absolute submission to the crown.

Except for one.

Felda could not bring herself to bow her head. Her eyes locked onto him the moment he crossed the threshold. Her legs felt weak, her mind racing with a desperate, ancient longing. She did not see a king in that moment; she only saw the man her soul remembered, the man she wanted to run to and bury her face against his chest.

Tovanna managed a brief bow, but her gaze quickly snapped back up, tracking the tall, broad-shouldered man mounting the steps to the dais.

King Daze reached the heavy wooden seat and turned. He swept his gaze across the sea of bowed heads. He wanted to look for them; he could smell their scent in the air, rich and familiar, but he forced his chin up, staring straight ahead. He could not bring himself to meet the eyes of the woman he loved, nor the daughter he had kept hidden in the shadows for far too long.

"You all rise," the king commanded. His voice was deep, steady, and filled the cavernous hall without needing to shout.

The pack stood as one, the rustle of clothing echoing through the room. Murmurs rippled through the crowd like wind through dry grass, but they quieted instantly as the king raised a gloved hand.

"Today I called you for something important," King Daze spoke, his voice hard, lacking its usual warmth. "I called everyone here to witness today and hear it yourself, so that no one will have an excuse after seeing what happened today."

The murmurs died down completely. The silence became so heavy that the crackle of the torches sounded like snapping bones.

King Daze stepped down from the dais. One of the palace maids hurried forward, holding out a silver tray bearing a razor-sharp ceremonial blade. The king then lifted the knife from the velvet, its steel catching the firelight, and began to walk down the steps.

He walked past the elders. He walked past the rows of warriors.

He walked straight toward Felda.

Felda stopped breathing. Her eyes widened, locked on the gleaming edge of the blade in his hand. A cold knot twisted in her stomach. 'Why is he walking toward me with a knife?' The terrifying thought flashed through her mind... was he going to punish her? Was she to be the example? No, her mind screamed. She wasn't Celeste; she had done nothing wrong. Her feet felt rooted to the stone floor, unable to step back.

When the king stood right in front of her, the scent of pine and smoke washed over her senses. Without a word, he reached out and grabbed the coarse collar of her slave tunic.

Felda gasped softly, her breath hitching in her throat.

With a swift, practiced motion, King Daze raised the blade and sliced right through the thick fabric at her neck, severing the leather band that marked her servitude. The ruined collar dropped heavily to the stone floor with a dull clank.

"I hereby remove Felda from being a slave in my pack as of today," the king’s voice boomed across the silent hall, ringing off the stone walls so every wolf could hear every syllable. "With my power as the king and the agreement of the three kingdoms, she is free. No one shall talk to her with disrespect any longer or treat her horribly except the person who wants to face my wrath."

A sharp, collective gasp sucked the air out of the room. Whispers erupted instantly, bouncing from wall to wall.

Felda stood frozen, her fingers reaching up with a trembling hand to touch her bare neck where the suffocating collar had sat for years. She looked up slowly, her eyes wide and wet with unfallen tears, meeting the dark gaze of the king.

"Your... Highness? Master?" she whispered, her voice cracking, sounding so small in the massive hall. She was so stunned, so completely overwhelmed, that she didn't even know what title to give him anymore.

King Daze slowly shook his head, the rigid lines of his face softening just a fraction. "I'm no longer your master, Felda. I'm your king from now on. You're free to be the woman you were once. Live the life you want."

Beside her, Tovanna covered her mouth with both hands. Tears spilled over her lashes, tracking hot paths down her cheeks. She had never known what a true life felt like for her mother, only the cold dirt, the endless chores, and the heavy chains of a slave. To see those chains cut away right before her eyes made her chest ache with a fierce, burning joy.

Felda blinked, panic suddenly surging beneath her shock. She stepped half an inch closer, desperate to read the truth in his eyes.

"Live the way I want?" she asked, her voice trembling as hope clawed its way up her throat. "Do you mean... I can be your queen now?"

The question hung in the air, raw and vulnerable, stripping away all the royal pageantry of the courtroom.

King Daze stared down at her.

She was still just as breathtaking as the day he had first laid eyes on her, the woman he wanted to hold close, to protect, to build a future with.

But the memory of his own failures weighed on his shoulders like a mountain of lead. He had broken her trust. He had forced her into the dirt. He had hurt her far more deeply than any simple apology could ever fix.

He couldn't tie her to his ruined throne. He couldn't chain her to the endless wars and cold politics of a crown that brought nothing but pain.

He swallowed hard, his throat tightening. "I'm not fit to be your crown, Felda," he said, his voice dropping into a register meant only for her ears, though the nearby wolves strained to listen. "Leave the pack with my daughter and live the life you want. I've given you your freedom."

The words hit her like a physical blow.

Loud gasps echoed through the room. Wolves shifted anxiously, their tails tucked, murmuring in utter disbelief.

A king freeing a slave was rare enough, but a king casting away the woman he clearly loved, sending her away from his side, was unheard of in the history of the ancient packs.

Felda staggered back a step, the breath completely leaving her lungs. "Leave?" she whispered; the word tasted like ash. "You're sending us away?"