Chapter 63 Warring Forces
Chapter 63 Warring Forces
Kieran
“Kieran.”
It was a harsh, almost commanding tone. Hestia grabbed my wrist to pull me aside, but I didn't budge. I remained rooted in front of Alfonso, our glares locked at each other.
As if we were both waiting on who's going to make the move first.
“What? Is it wrong to ask His Highness questions now, Hestia?”
“Depends on what questions you have, Vassal,” Mischa replied, his right wing protecting Alfonso's body. “Besides, His Highness and I wish to rest early. Surely you saw the predicament we were in earlier?”
I tilted my head in amusement. “It's just a few questions. Why is everyone suddenly so… avoidant? It's not like I'm going to murder the prince.”
Alfonso smirked. Yet, he didn't say a word. Mischa gritted his teeth, raising his hand. “You mutt—”
“Mischa, enough,” Alfonso scolded him, prompting him to lower his hand and hide his wings. “If the Vassal wants to talk, then who am I to decline?”
Alfonso straightened his coat, his confidence oozing. I subconsciously wrinkled my nose. Reds always smelled off to Lycan noses.
They often reeked of death. They carried that scent permanently on their bodies, a stark reminder and warning of who they truly were.
Which was why it was puzzling how he and that Stranger lurking around Hestia could hide their scents now and then.
Even his secretary, Mischa, could hide his scent.
Interesting.
“Leave us, Mischa, Your Majesty. It seems that your Vassal wants some… privacy.”
I could sense Hestia’s hesitation through our Divine Link. I waited until I heard the door to our room close. Then, I turned around and began to walk towards the end of the hallway, with Alfonso following me closely behind.
The ship wasn’t big. But being left alone with this Red, it felt… massive. Empty. Then it hit me. That strong manifestation of forbidden dark magic coursing through every wooden plank of the ship. It intertwined with the divine magic placed by Castiel and Hestia. As if it was a wound festering on healthy skin.
“You used your magic, didn’t you?” I asked as I continued walking. “I could feel your filth all around the place.”
Alfonso scoffed. “For a Vassal, you have a loose tongue, Chief White. You think Hestia would appreciate it after she learns the way you talk to me?”
Hearing him speak her name made some veins in my head feel as if they would pop in any minute. If he wasn’t the Crown Prince of the Reds and if Hestia didn’t want another political crisis, I would’ve scrubbed his tongue clean with the tip of my axe.
“Leave Hestia alone,” I growled as I shot him a glare. “I don’t care if you burn our kingdom to the ground. And I most certainly don’t give a damn about that little spy of yours that kept on hovering around her. But whatever you want, leave Hestia out of it. If you ever dare to use her, you’ll have to go through my corpse first, Your Highness.”
His lips were well-hidden underneath his golden mask, but I know that Alfonso was smugly smirking at me right now. His eyes curved into little crescents as he made a set of gestures with his hands.
The hallway was slowly filled with fog, as angry red vines of forbidden magic became prominently painted on the walls. Alfonso wanted me to panic. He wanted my heart to be filled with fear.
I crossed my arms, smug enough to get on his nerves. “You’ll need more than that to scare me, Your Highness.”
Alfonso chuckled underneath that mask. He stepped closer to me, his voice dripping with mock. “How dare you, a mere Vassal, question me and my plans? I don’t give a damn about your position in Hestia’s life and heart. But I’m more than sure I’ll be able to snatch her from you before you even know it. After all, you only stole her from me that day at the cave, you dirty mutt.”
The cave? But Hestia said it was the Stranger who—
“Kieran.”
In a blink of an eye, the angry red vines painting the walls disappeared. Alfonso stepped back from me, as Castiel approached us with his usual calm, almost cold and detached, demeanor.
“Your Eminence,” Alfonso greeted him with practiced friendliness. “The Chief White was only showing me around. I didn’t know the Lycans could build such an impressive… ship.”
Castiel stepped in between us. His hands were subtly moving, as if he was casting a cleansing spell around. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I might need Kieran and Alpha Augustus for something… important.”
He didn’t argue. Instead, he stepped away and walked towards the door where we stopped. The room next to mine and Hestia’s. “Well then, gentlemen, I’m not going to keep you long. After all, I crave some rest.”
Castiel waited for the door to shut before he motioned me to follow him. He went to the ship’s quarterdeck, away from everyone else.
“What do you need from me, Your Eminence? I don’t remember us being in friendly terms,” I impatiently asked as I watched Castiel glance around, as if trying to be cautious over something.
“I remember that voice. Alfonso’s voice.” He looked at his hands, as he nervously held them up high to the sunlight—a surefire way to determine if someone’s under a dark spell. A Red spell, to be exact.
But who would even dare to put Castiel under a spell? He’s the High Priest. His power almost rivaled that of demigods and whoever the Mother Goddess would choose to be the next Lycan Queen.
“You’re acting strange—”
“The day that it was decided for Hestia to continue with the trials, I know that almost all Alphas in the Council present that day voted against Hestia. Then, two cloaked men appeared out of nowhere… Everything became hazy in my mind, but when I came to, everyone had voted for Hestia to keep her position in the competition…”
My grip on my axe tightened as I listened to Castiel. He wasn’t lying. After all, he won’t benefit from lying about that, would he?
“It’s as if his voice carried a spell. Strong enough to hypnotize even the strongest. And he decided to keep Hestia in the competition as if it was nothing but a game to him. I don’t know his motives, but all I know is that he had set his eyes on her. Alfonso always gets what he wants.”
“Your point being?”
He took out a dagger and wounded his palm, blood freely dripping as he made a fist. Castiel extended his hand to me. A blood pact. “I know you hate sharing her with Augustus or me, but my senses are telling me that we have to keep her away from the Red Prince. And we won’t be able to do that if the three of us are having issues with each other too. Do you mind forming a truce with us?”
I looked at his hand. Then to Castiel’s eyes. After all, I might not be the smartest, but I can remember that his eyes were blue, not molten gold.