Chapter 146 Chapter 145
Morvan returned to the palace, where a soldier immediately hurried to him, the atmosphere tense. "Where is he?" he growled under his breath, quickening his pace.
"We've taken him to one of the underground rooms, Your Grace," the soldier responded.
"What about Ladrian? Is he here already?"
"Yes. I left him in the underground rooms. He is waiting for you," the soldier added with a firm expression. Mavron swallowed, his expression going grim as he took the winding corridors that led to the underground chambers.
Torches flickered ominously by the walls, and the King's growls and howls reverberated through the hollow space, grating at Morvan's nerves. He approached the reinforced steel door, spotting Ladrian standing by a corner, a weary expression on his face.
"How is he?" Morvan asked as he closed the distance between them. Ladrian let out a sigh, peeking through the tiny opening in the door.
"Unstable. He keeps shifting from his full wolf form to half-changed. He won't stop pumping out pheromones as well. We already had him chained up, but with the way he's struggling, I do not trust the integrity of those chains."
Morvan sighed, remembering the last time the king had broken free. It had taken several soldiers, including him, to hold him down and not without suffering grave injuries. "Aren't they laced with wolfsbane? The chains, I mean?"
"They are... and several other weakening potions, including liquid silver, and it's still not enough."
Morvan peeked through the tiny window, watching as the king growled and snapped at nothing, his dark fur already smeared with blood, the floor littered with poisoned darts. He checked the hinges on the walls. They looked like they were about to fall out.
The dark concern brewing in his heart only worsened.
"What's really wrong with him?" he asked, still looking at the king.
He's having one of his erratic ruts as usual—but this time it triggered a shift. The suppressants must not have worked." Ladrian rubbed his face with both hands, grimacing. "Do we wait it out, or bring a woman to him? He’s out of his mind right now."
"No," Morvan said firmly. "If he recovers and learns we brought a woman, he won’t forgive us. He has to ride it out."
"This is becoming troublesome," Ladrian muttered, wincing as another pained roar echoed through the corridor, sending a chill down both their spines. "And it’s not even a full moon yet.
Morvan swallowed,stretching to his full height. "I'll keep guard until it passes. Deliver more suppressants just in case and start working on a new formula," Mavron instructed.
"Will do so, Your Grace. Excuse me." Ladrian bowed and walked away. Morvan continued to watch the king, the terror in his chest threatening to overwhelm him. He was already foaming at the mouth, repeatedly throwing himself to the ground, pitiful whimpers echoing in the desolate space.
The edges of Morvan's eyes began to burn and he clenched his jaw, suppressing the traitorous emotions swelling in him. Closing back the opening, he rested his head on the steel doors, fishing his hands.
Why does the king keep doing this to himself?
.
.
.
King Xenon blinked his heavy eyes open, groaning as the smell of blood assaulted his nose. Waiting for his hazy vision to clear, he realized he was in a room devoid of any windows, furnishings, or light.
An underground room.
He closed his eyes, letting out a breath. He must have lost control again. When he tried to move, he realized his wrists and legs had been bound with chains. His entire body was littered with wounds that would take a while to heal. He sat up, still surveying his naked body before speaking up.
"I'm awake. Get me out of this place," he growled, his voice scratchy.
He heard the sounds of bolts unlocking, and finally the huge door creaked open, Mavron entering with a blanket in his hands.
"Good afternoon, Your Majesty..." he murmured in a low voice, loosening the chains that bound him. Xenon rubbed his wrists and ankles, massaging the stiff muscles before picking up the blanket and throwing it over his body. Ignoring the aches in his body, he rose to his feet.
"How do you feel?" Mavron asked, looking him over.
"My body has seen better days," Xenon mumbled with a shrug. "What happened?"
Morvan's eyes widened ever so slightly. "You don't remember?"
"Other than the fact that I was foaming at the mouth trying to resist a shift, no." Xenon glanced at Morvan. "Did something bad happen? Didn't you get to me on time?"
Morvan's breath hitched but he spoke. "We couldn't find you on time," he muttered. "When we arrived, you were already on top of a woman."
Xenon froze, his eyes going round, dread settling in his gut.
"Fortunately, nothing had happened when we arrived. We managed to pry you off. She lives."
Xenon sighed at that. "That's a relief. You did good," he muttered and started walking away, but Mavron—
"Your episodes are getting worse, Your Majesty. This time, more people witnessed it. They are bound to start talking about it."
"They don't know it's me," he groaned.
"You can't keep resisting your instincts, Your Majesty," Morvan ground out, his eyes flashing as his beast skirted to the surface.
"Well, I want to," Xenon muttered in a bored tone.
"You'll harm yourself if you keep this up. Worse, you'll go mad. Do you want to become one of the Feral Ones?"
Xenon didn't answer, only looked ahead. Morvan's eyes sharpened, hurt hiding in his irises. "Is that what you're planning on doing?"
His bravado faltered and he clung to the king. "Your Majesty, please. If anything happens to you, we the weretigers are doomed. Don't do this."
Xenon noticed the tears glistening in Morvan’s eyes and his anger softened, a sigh escaping his lips. He and Morvan went back a long way. Morvan had once been a slave, enduring the harshest of treatments under the werewolves. Everyone believed the king to be a weretiger—he had shifted into his tiger form first—and if he fell, the weretigers would once again be forced into that same life. For their sake, he couldn’t afford to lose his mind.
"I won't go feral. No need to be so agitated," Xenon groaned, his voice coated in promise.
Morvan stepped back, blinking away the tears in his eyes. The cool seriousness Xenon was familiar with settled. "Then do something about this."
He shrugged. "I'll try."