Chapter 198 Blood and Wax

Chapter 198 Blood and Wax
The needle bites into Rhydan’s thigh before the healer even finishes pulling her stool up.

He does not flinch. He does not break his grip on my hand. He sits on the edge of the exam table with his dark jacket hanging off one shoulder, blood drying in the line of his jaw, his grey eyes locked on mine with a quiet, fierce intensity that makes the small medical room feel twenty degrees hotter than it is.

"Hold still, Heir Valecrest," the healer mutters, pulling the black thread taut against his skin.

"Finish it," Rhydan says.

His voice is flat... low... leaving no room for conversation.

Across the table, another healer works on my ribs, wrapping thick, binding linen around my chest where Marguerite’s whip left dark purple bruising. Every time the cloth pulls tight, the piece of Rhydan’s frequency under my sternum twitches in answer... a sharp, golden pulse that sends his heat straight down my arm and into his fingers.

We are bleeding, we are battered, and we are holding onto each other like the floor will collapse if either of us lets go.

"You are going to tear those stitches if you do not sit properly," the healer warns him.

"I am fine," Rhydan answers without looking at her.

His thumb presses hard over my knuckles, his gaze moving across my face, checking the long scratch on my cheekbone, reading the exhaustion behind my eyes.

The link between us hums steady and unbroken. There is no anger left in it now... no distance... only the raw, indestructible weight of two people who just survived the end of the world and are standing in the wreckage together.

"You look at me like you are checking if I am real," I whisper.

"I am," he says softly.

"I am real, Rhydan."

"Then stop breathing so shallowly."

A small, breathless laugh breaks out of my chest, and the gold in his eyes flares... warm, possessive, and completely mine.

The healer snips the thread, gathers her tray, and backs out of the room without another word... the other healer at her tail. The heavy door shuts, locking the hot, thick and suffocating quiet in with us.

Rhydan stands up immediately. He does not care about his bare, bruised chest or the fresh bandage on his leg. He steps into the small space between my knees, his hands coming up to frame my face, his thumbs wiping away the dry blood near my lip.

His grey eyes are dark, wild, and completely bare... watching my mouth, watching my throat, watching the place where my dress is torn over my ribs.

"Now," Rhydan murmurs, his breath hot against my mouth. "Where were we before my father interrupted?"

I reach for him, my hands flat against the bare skin above his trousers, feeling the steady, thrumming heat of his wolf beneath my palms. "I think you were telling me how you are not carrying me through any more corridors."

"I lied," he says softly.

His large hands come up to frame my face, his thumbs pressing hard into my cheekbones, tilting my head back until I have no choice but to look into his eyes.

"Say it," he whispers, his breath hot and ragged against my lips.

"Say what?"

"What you told me in my room... before all the chaos began."

My chest heaves against the tight linen bandages wrapped around my ribs. The soul-fragment resting under my sternum flares... a blinding, golden heat that surges straight through my chest and into his palms. Rhydan shudders at the touch... a low, possessive growl vibrating deep in his throat.

"I am yours, Rhydan," I whisper, my hands coming up to grip his waist, feeling the hard, burning muscle beneath his bare skin. "I have always been yours."

He makes a wrecked, broken sound in his throat and kisses me.

It is not gentle.

It is a fierce, desperate, possessive kiss full of an unyielding promise that tastes like salt, winter air, and the exact moment two lives collide and refuse to tear apart. His tongue slides against mine, deep and demanding, and his hands slide down my neck, over my shoulders, pulling me off the edge of the table until my hips are locked against his.

I gasp into his mouth, my fingers digging into his back, and the fragment of his soul inside me erupts in pure, blinding heat.

The link between us is wide open... no secrets, no walls, no lies left to hide behind. I feel his terrifying, ferocious need to protect me. He feels the raw, aching devotion pouring out of my chest.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests hard against mine, both of us breathing in ragged, desperate gasps.

"If anyone ever dares to come for you," Rhydan rasps, his thumb tracing my lower lip until it trembles, "if any Elder, any pack, or any council tries to take you from me... I will burn the north to the ground before I let them touch you."

"Nobody is taking me," I tell him, reaching up to touch the silver ring on my finger, feeling my mother's frequency humming steady beside his. "We fought for this, Rhydan."

"We did," he murmurs, his mouth pressing to the corner of mine, slow and possessive. "And now I claim it..."

A single, sharp knock hits the wooden door.

Then Cassian steps inside without waiting, his dark eyes serious as he looks at the two of us. "Torren is waiting in the tribunal chamber. Just him and the three Elders who came with him. No crowd... just the emergency recognition. We need to go now."

Rhydan’s hand slides down from my face, his fingers interlacing with mine, squeezing until our knuckles press flush together.

And he does not let go as we step out into the hallway.

The corridors of Northveil are packed, but the moment the students see us, the chatter cuts out completely. They stare at the blood on Rhydan’s jaw. They stare at the pale, celestial light still ghosting under my skin. But most of all, they stare at our joined hands... locked together so tightly that everyone in the building understands the truth.

We reach the tribunal chamber on the second floor.

The room is heavy with dark oak and ancient stone. Torren Valecrest stands at the head of the long table, wearing his formal Head of House robes, the silver seals of the bloodline gleaming on his chest. Three senior Elders sit beside him, their faces set like stone.

Corvyn sits near the window, her broken wrist bound, her single open eye watching us with a quiet, fierce pride.

Torren looks up as we cross the threshold. His grey eyes... so like Rhydan's... lock onto our joined hands, and a quiet, immovable resolve settles over his face.

"Shut the door," Torren commands flatly.

Cassian pulls the heavy oak doors shut, staying outside to guard the hall.

"We do not have time for estate pageantry," Torren says, opening a slim, dark leather ledger on the table before him. "What happened in the courtyard today made Veyra Calladine the most important Resonant to ever exist on this continent and House Valecrest answers that threat right now."

Elder Lukman, the oldest of the three wolves, leans forward, his white brows drawn tight. "A provisional Luna claim executed on school grounds is irregular, Torren. The pack council at the estate..."

"The pack council will ratify what I seal today," Torren interrupts, his voice dropping into a hard Alpha register that leaves no room for debate. "My son bled on those steps to protect her. She brought a dragon out of the earth to save this school. There is nothing irregular about such strength, Lukman."

Torren dips a silver quill into black ink and looks at Rhydan.

"Name her, Heir Valecrest."

Rhydan turns to me first.

He does not care that three Elders are watching. He does not care that his father is standing at the table. He takes my other hand, holding both of my hands in his, his grey eyes blazing with a gold-flecked heat so intense it steals the breath from my lungs.

"I name Veyra Calladine..." Rhydan says.

His voice is not a whisper. It is a deep, resonant rumble that vibrates through the stone floor, echoing off the high ceiling.

"She is my partner. She is my equal. And she is the chosen Luna of House Valecrest."

My throat tightens, tears burning behind my eyes at the sheer, unfiltered devotion in his voice.

Torren hands the quill to his son. Rhydan signs his name across the heavy parchment in bold, dark strokes that cut deep into the paper. Then he turns, placing the quill into my fingers, his large hand wrapping over mine to guide my grip.

"Sign it, Veyra," Rhydan whispers into my ear, his breath warm against my skin. "Claim your place."

I press the nib to the page. My hand does not shake. The silver ring on my finger pulses with a warm, approving heat as I write my name beside his.

Veyra Calladine.

Torren takes the heavy silver pack seal, presses it into the hot, red wax at the bottom of the ledger, and slams it down with a heavy thud.

The wax sets instantly, locking our names together in the bloodline records of the north.

"It is done," Torren declares, his voice ringing through the room. "Veyra Calladine is officially recognized as Luna of the Valecrest pack."

Before the Elders can even process the declaration, the side door of the chamber bursts open.

A pack runner rushes inside, his face pale as death, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He drops to one knee before Torren's spot at the table, holding up a leather scroll stamped with three black suns.

"Lord Valecrest!" the runner gasps, his voice trembling violently. "A courier just broke through the river boundary! From Lord Vane of the Southern Alpha Alliance!"

Torren’s eyes narrow into slits. "Speak."

"The shockwave from the courtyard hit the southern territories simultaneously," the runner stammers, his hands shaking as he holds up the scroll. "Lord Vane has mobilized his entire vanguard! Fifty Alpha-tier wolves have crossed the border... and they are demanding the immediate surrender of the Resonant by sundown, or they burn the north!"

A suffocating, dead silence crashes over the room.

Rhydan’s hand snaps around my waist, pulling me flush against his side, his grey eyes flashing pure, lethal gold as a terrifying, double-noted growl rips from his chest.

The war for my freedom has ended...

And the war for the continent has just begun.