Chapter 99 The Talk
The music swells again after Celeste drifts away, all silk and poison smiles, but the tension she leaves behind doesn’t dissolve. It lingers, thin and sharp, like glass dust in the air.
I feel it in the way conversations resume a little too loudly. In the way humans keep their champagne glasses close to their chests. In the way wolves watch me with something dangerously close to expectation.
Faruk steps forward before I can fully reset myself.
Up close, he looks even more like Darius than I expected,same height, same commanding build, but where Darius is carved from restraint, Faruk feels like polished marble.
His dark suit fits perfectly, his hair slicked back, expression charming in a way that feels practiced.
But there was always something in his gaze that made me on urge, He takes my hand before I can decide whether to offer it.
His lips brush lightly across my knuckles in a gesture so old-fashioned it feels theatrical.
“Lyra,” he says smoothly. He bows just slightly.
“I’m glad you survived the gallows,” he murmurs.
The words are soft enough that no one else reacts.
There’s something deliberate in the way he says survived. Like he’s testing the weight of it.
I hold his gaze. “So was I.”
A faint smile touches his mouth.
“Of course,” he continues casually, “with a mate like Darius, one willing to risk his throne for you, your survival was almost guaranteed.”
The words are polished. But the blade underneath them is not subtle. Around us, conversations continue, but I can feel the ears angling closer.
Risk his throne.The phrase lands heavy. I had heard the whispers.
Mara had told me in quiet tones two nights ago: some packs were growing restless. They didn’t like how openly Darius stood beside me. Didn’t like how fiercely he defended me before the Council. Didn’t like that hybrid attacks were escalating while I existed as the only known hybrid of my kind and possible cause. Some were calling for abdication. Saying the Alpha King’s judgment was compromised. Saying I was the reason blood was spilling again. I smile at Faruk without letting any of that show.
Faruk’s eyes flick up, searching my face.
“Of course,” he says. “An Alpha King willing to jeopardize his throne for love. How… poetic.”
There’s no warmth in it. Only implication “You must know,” Faruk continues lightly, releasing my hand, “that not all leaders are granted the luxury of sentiment.”
“Is that what you think this is?” I ask.
“I think,” he says carefully, “that kingdoms fracture when their kings forget their duty.”
Before I can answer, the Chairwoman steps between us with surprising agility for someone her age.
“Oh, Faruk,” she says brightly, tapping his arm with her fan. “Must you always sound like a rejected playwright?”
A few nearby guests laugh.
Faruk smiles thinly. “Chairwoman.”
“Young men and their dramatic metaphors,” she continues, turning to me with exaggerated exasperation. “If I had a coin for every time someone predicted the end of civilization at one of these galas, I’d have bought the building by now.”
I can’t help it, I smile.
Celeste, who has drifted back within earshot, lets out a quiet, humorless breath.
“Some of us take stability seriously,” she says coolly.
The Chairwoman tilts her head. “And some of us mistake fear for wisdom.”
A flicker of irritation crosses Celeste’s face.
“I’m glad you’re still with us,” Celeste replies sweetly. “Truly. Ancient and resilient. Like a living mummy.”
The insult is wrapped in silk.
The room tightens.
The Chairwoman chuckles.
“My dear,” she says gently, “old women like you and me, I consider longevity a compliment.”
Celeste’s smile thins.
Before the tension can sharpen further, a tall vampire gentleman approaches Darius, bowing slightly.“ Darius, if I may have a word.”
Darius hesitates, eyes flicking to me.
“I’ll be fine,” I murmur.
His jaw tightens anyway.
“I won’t be far.”
He and the vampire step away toward a quieter corner.
And just like that, the air changes.
Without his hand at my back, without his presence anchoring the space around me, I feel… exposed. So I make my way toward the dessert table.
If I’m going to be judged tonight, I might as well enjoy the catering.
The pastries are arranged like art, miniature tarts glazed in jewel tones, dark chocolate confections dusted in gold, delicate cream puffs that look almost too perfect to eat.
I stand there, debating.
Sweet or sweeter.
“Going for the sugar high approach to diplomacy?”
I know that voice.
I turn.
Fred stands a few feet behind me, hands in his pockets, looking annoyingly at ease.
“Careful,” I say lightly. “I might bite.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
There’s humor there?but something else too. Something cautious. I still don’t know how to feel about him.About the lies.
“I didn’t think you liked events like this,” I say.
“I don’t,” he admits. “Too many politics. Not enough exits.”
My lips twitch. He steps closer,but not too close.
“Can I have a moment?” he asks quietly. “Your time. Just a minute.” The request surprises me.
“For what?”
“To clear the air.”
Before I can answer, a familiar warmth presses at my back. Darius.
His hand settles on the small of my back, firm. Possessive. Territorial.
I roll my eyes before I can stop myself.
“We were just talking,” Fred says evenly.
“I can see that,” Darius replies, tone smooth but edged.
“It’s fine,” I interject. “He just wants a minute.”
Darius’s thumb flexes slightly against my spine.
“With you?” he asks.
I turn my head, arching a brow. “Yes. With me. I’m capable of holding a conversation without supervision.”
Fred’s mouth twitches faintly. The tension between them hums.
“Relax,” I tell Darius softly. “Unless you think I’m going to elope with him over a pastry.”
“That depends,” Fred mutters. “What kind is it?”
I almost laugh. Almost.
“I’ll talk to you,” I tell Fred. “But not tonight.”
His expression shifts—disappointment flickering before he masks it.
“Soon?” he asks.
“Yes.”
I meet Darius’s eyes deliberately.
“Just the two of us.”
The message is clear.
I need answers.
And I don’t need a chaperone.
Darius’s jaw tightens.
For a split second, I see it, the instinct to object.
Then he exhales slowly.
“Fine,” he says.
Fred nods once, respectful. “I’ll wait.”
He steps back, disappearing into the crowd.