Chapter 157

Chapter 157
Isla
The great hall of Castle Stoneheart feels heavier than usual, the weight of ancient stone and older grudges pressing down on everyone who is gathered inside.
Valeria spent the week in the dungeon while we waited for her lords to show up here. They didn't want to come. I suppose she burned too many bridges over the years.
Torchlight flickers across the high vaulted ceilings, casting long shadows that dance like uneasy spirits. We have electricity in the castle, but when I asked Aeron why we never use it in the bigger rooms or during meetings, he informed me that the vampires don't like it.
I remember my first night here, how dark and quiet everything was. I understand it better now. Electric light hurts my eyes, screaming humans are agony to my ears. The air smells of beeswax from the candles dripping on the wood, Valeria's silver shackles, and the faint metallic tang of anticipation - vampire anticipation, which always carries a hint of copper for some reason.
Valeria’s lords are gathered around a single table. There are only seven of them, ancient and gaunt, their faces etched with centuries of scheming and survival.
While we waited for their arrival, the family told me about them. the East has always been the weakest of the kingdoms, its power fragmented by internal feuds and the constant threat of fae incursions from the borders. These lords look like relics from that time when we still believed the earth was flat. They're dress in silk robes frayed at the edges, eyes sunken but sharp, fangs glinting when they speak. They sit at a long oak table, murmuring among themselves, while Valeria stands chained in silver at the far end, her throat still scarred from Idun’s attack, her gaze defiant but weary.
I look around at the old lords. It's no wonder Valeria made a play for the North. I would too. These lords are utterly decrepit and they look like the movie monsters I saw back in Primridge. Like parodies of our kind.
Aeron presides from the throne dais, wearing a crown for the first time since I've met him, dressed in cashmere and velvet, he wears the golden, bejeweled chain of office, and there are heavy rings on his fingers. One is silver, and I know that it's burning into his flesh, but according to Michael that signals power and mastery over his body to the elders.
Aeron hasn’t said much since we entered, but there’s a change in him - a coiled intensity that wasn’t there before. It’s like the man I glimpsed in the dreams of my past lives has awakened once more. I can see him already - decisive, unyielding, a king who doesn’t just rule but commands the air we breathe.
I sit on his right side, close enough that his hand brushes mine occasionally, a subtle reminder that I’m under his protection. The lords’ eyes flick to me often, wary and calculating. They know what I did, everyone does by now, closing the rifts, pulling Valeria back from death. Whispers of the new “goddess” married to Aeron have already spread, but the moment one of the lords opens his mouth and starts with, "Queen Isla, is it true..." my groom shuts him down with a single, deadly look.
The tribunal begins with formalities that bore me to tears with in minutes. Someone, I have no idea who, reads the list accusations against Valeria.
Valeria then gives her defence - a sharp, unapologetic recounting of her conquest plans - and reveals that the lords were in agreement with her.
Immediately, they start to bicker like a murder of old crows, debating loyalty, betrayal, and the future of the East. One, Lord Vesper, an ancient with a voice like rustling parchment, argues for Valeria’s release. “She merely sought to expand our borders,” he says. “That is not treason. It is conquest.”
"The matter before you, Lord Vesper," Aeron says in a tightly controlled voice, "is not Valeria's attempt at conquest, but her actions on the island. The creatures she kept hidden from us. The experiments. The creatures that could have killed us all if they found a means to escape."
"But they did not escape," Valeria counters. "Nor would they have. I made sure of that. I did nothing illegal."
"You failed in your duty to be guardian of the island," Aeron says. "And you lied to us about the truth of that place. What you planned to do with your mutations."
This sets off a whole new discussion about the island and Valeria's moral and ethical duties when it came to the creatures, and whether or not she had an obligations to tell the rest of us about it.
Aeron listens without interrupting, his face a mask of cold control. But when Lord Thorne, a wiry vampire with eyes like chipped obsidian, turns to me and says, “And what of the goddess-bride? She killed the creatures. She purged the deadlands of its poison. She saved the Queen Valeria with a word. Does she speak for the North now?”
Aeron’s hand tightens on the throne arm. “She speaks for herself,” he replies, voice low and lethal. “But if you address her again without my permission, you will not speak at all.”
The hall goes silent. Thorne blanches and drops his gaze.
Aeron leans forward, eyes sweeping the table like a blade. “Valeria played the game and lost. Such is the risk of battle and I do not blame her for it. If it ended there, we would have had no need for this inquest.
"The East is weak. Your numbers are few, your borders are fractured, with the fae dying wolves are picking at your edges like vultures. Join the North. Swear fealty to me, and your lands become mine to protect. Valeria will still allowed to rule the East. Refuse, and I will strip Valeria of her crown here and now, and bring new charges of treason against her.” Aeron taps his armrest with one finger. "To be attended by all the lords and ladies this time, I think. We will also pick a new leader for the East at that time, and I swear to all the gods present here tonight, that it will be none of you, or your young brides."
The Eastern lords exchange glances. Vesper opens his mouth to protest, but Aeron cuts him off.
“No debates. You may take a moment to speak among yourself and decide which path you would like to take.”
His voice carries the weight of absolute authority, the kind that brooks no argument. It’s not the weary king I’ve known - the one who let crises simmer because effort felt futile. This is the Aeron from my fragmented memories. Fierce, unyielding, a force that bends the world to his will.
My heart races, not with fear, but with awe. He’s protecting me, yes, but it’s more than that. He’s claiming control, stepping into the void he confessed to leaving empty. For the first time, I feel truly secure - not because I’m powerful, but because he is. He’s the anchor I didn’t realise I needed, the strength that lets me breathe without the constant crushinf fear of what I’m becoming.
The lords murmur, then nod one by one. Thorne speaks for them: “The East swears fealty. Merge the kingdoms under your rule.”
Aeron stands, the motion fluid and commanding. “Done. Valeria, you keep your life and your title - as my vassal.You will answer to me and follow my commands. Fail me, and I will deliver you to the pits myself.”
Valeria meets his gaze, nods once, and the chains fall away with a wave of his hand.
As the lords file out, swearing oaths before the siblings, Aeron turns to me. His hand finds mine, fingers interlacing in a grip that’s both possessive and reassuring.
“You’re safe,” he murmurs, low enough for only me to hear. “Always.”
I squeeze back, the awe swelling into something warmer, deeper. With him like this, strong, decisive, fiercely mine, I feel like I can face whatever chaos my power brings. He’s not just my groom, my husband, or my king - he’s my shield, my armour.
We could actually win this thing. Defeat Idun even. For the first time in a low while, I have hope.