Chapter 25 Getting Worse

Chapter 25 Getting Worse
The unrest didn't arrive all at once. It moved through the palace like a slow crack spreading beneath polished stone—quiet at first, nearly invisible, until it reached a point where it could no longer be ignored.

By morning, it had a voice. And by afternoon, it had turned into a demand.

The council chamber, usually a place of measured words and calculated decisions, carried a different weight that day. Conversations overlapped more than they should have, tones edged sharper than etiquette allowed. The long table that divided the room no longer felt like a symbol of order, but of restraint barely holding.

At the head of it all sat Benetta.

Even she didn’t interrupt the rising tension, she let it build, let it stretch, let every council member feel the pressure of it pressing against their sense of order.

“She violated a binding contract under the authority of the Alpha,” Eddomyth said, his voice steady but firm enough to carry across the room. “And fled the palace without clearance. That alone is grounds for public sanction.”

Petra didn’t immediately agree, but neither did she object. Her fingers tapped once against the table, thoughtful, before she spoke.

“Rumors are already spreading,” she added. “A contract worker escaping the palace… it raises questions about authority. About control.”

Diplo leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable, though the tension in his jaw betrayed him. “And about weakness,” he said.

Benetta’s gaze moved slowly across the room, taking in each expression, each flicker of hesitation, each carefully hidden agreement. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft—but it cut cleanly through the noise.

“Then we are all in agreement,” she said. “This cannot be ignored.”

The chamber door opened before anyone could respond. The shift in the room was immediate. Conversations died. Postures straightened. And every gaze turned toward the figure stepping inside.

Liam didn’t rush yet the authority seemed to move with him, settled into every step, every breath, every glance that passed over the room without pause. He didn’t acknowledge anyone as he approached the table, didn’t ask for permission to enter a meeting that had clearly begun without him.

“You called for me,” he said.

Eddomyth was the first to respond. “We did, Alpha.”

Liam’s gaze flicked toward him briefly. “Then speak.”

“It’s about the contract worker,” Diplo said, choosing his words carefully. “Skylar Avery Miles.”

“She fled the palace,” Petra continued. “Under your authority. Under your contract. The implications—”

“Are mine to handle.”

Liam’s voice cut through hers without raising in volume. Petra held his gaze, but she didn’t back down.

“With respect, Alpha,” she said, “this is no longer a private matter.”

“Who said is it?” Liam leaned back slightly in his chair, his fingers resting against the armrest with deliberate stillness. “And what exactly are you suggesting? I’m your king, I’m the law itself.”

Eddomyth answered this time. “A public response,” he said. “they need a statement, a consequences to the woman.”

Diplo nodded once.

“If she is allowed to break a contract of this level without repercussion, it sets a precedent,” he said. “Others will follow.”

“And if they believe the Alpha’s authority can be ignored,” Petra added, “then the structure we’ve built begins to fracture.”

Liam’s eyes moved across each of them, one by one, as if weighing something that did not need to be spoken aloud. “You’ve already made a decision,” he said at last.

Eddomyth didn’t deny it. “We are advising what is necessary,” he said.

“And what is that?

Diplo didn’t hesitate. “She must be punished. Publicly.”

Liam’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “That is not your concern,” he said instead.

“It becomes our concern when it affects the kingdom,” Eddomyth replied.

Liam’s hand curled slightly against the armrest, the faintest indication that something beneath his composure was beginning to strain.

“You are overstepping,” he said.

“And you are withholding,” Petra returned, her tone still respectful, but no longer yielding.

For a moment, it felt like the room itself held its breath. Liam’s gaze moved to Benetta like pointing at the very first person that started the stir.

Bennetta met his eyes, composed as always. “You made it public,” she said gently. “That she is a contract worker under your authority. You cannot expect the council to ignore it now.”

“And if I refuse?” he asked.

“That would be… unfortunate,” Diplo said.

Carefully chosen words, but the meaning was clear. The authority of an Alpha was absolute. But even absolute power had a structure. And structures, when pushed too far, pushed back. Before Liam could respond, the chamber doors opened again.

This time, the interruption wasn’t subtle.

The butler stepped inside quickly, his usual composure slipping just enough to be noticeable.

“Alpha,” he said, his voice lower than usual, but urgent. “Forgive the interruption.”

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s Miss Skylar.”

The name shifted the room again.

“She’s not responding well,” the butler said carefully. “Her condition has worsened.”

Something cold slid through Liam’s chest, makin him stood right away. The movement was abrupt enough to cut through whatever remained of the meeting.

“We’re not finished here,” Eddomyth said, and Liam didnt even bothered to look at him. He moved toward the door without another word, the tension he had held contained for so long now shifting into something more focused, more dangerous.

Behind him, the council remained silent. Benetta’s gaze followed him as he left, her expression unreadable, though something flickered beneath it—something sharper than before.

The walk through the palace corridors felt longer than it should have. The voices—always there, always lurking at the edges—began to rise again, overlapping, clashing, filling the space inside his head with noise he couldn’t  filter out.

The door to his room stood open.bThe physician was already inside. Servants moved quickly, quietly, tension visible in every motion.

“What’s happening?” he demanded.

Skylar’s body arched slightly against the bed, her fingers clenched tight against the sheets as if holding onto something that wasn’t there. Her breathing was uneven, shallow, breaking between sharp, involuntary movements that ran through her like a current she couldn’t control.

Her eyes were closed, but not peacefully. Her entire body trembled.

“Hold her steady,” the physician instructed, his voice tight with focus. Two attendants moved to keep her from slipping, from hurting herself further, but even that seemed barely enough.

Liam stepped closer faster than he intended.

“Her body is reacting,” he said. “To stress, to exhaustion—possibly to the toxin she was exposed to earlier. It’s escalating.”

Skylar’s breath hitched sharply, her body tightening again as another wave passed through her. Her hand moved suddenly, fingers grasping at nothing, her body jerking again as the tremor intensified.

“Do something,” Liam said, his voice lower now, and sharper. Another convulsion ran through her, stronger this time. Her body tensed—Then shook uncontrollably.

And Liam saw everything.