Chapter 177: The War of Words
And yet, tonight, those so-called “beasts” had just humiliated the entire kingdom.
Three dragons. A fearsome Alpha King. A respected Luna. A protected child.
A royal couple whose power now rivaled—maybe even surpassed—that of the Lycan King himself.
One of Soren’s advisors, narrow-eyed and white-knuckled around his silver goblet, leaned toward his neighbor to mutter a snide comment, just low enough that Caleb wouldn’t catch it.
But Lya did.
She slowly turned her head in their direction, her icy blue gaze cutting through the room like twin blades.
“Repeat that,” she said simply, her voice soft as frost… the kind that burns.
Silence fell like a heavy curtain.
Drake snorted into his beard. Caleb narrowed his eyes.
And Soren—poor Soren—finally understood:
Dinner wouldn’t be a distraction.
It would be the battlefield.
And the war of words… had just begun.
The royal table had been set with care, in a desperate attempt to smooth things over. Silver candelabras, porcelain dishes, fine food under glass domes. But it all felt wrong—out of place, like a staged peace in the middle of a battlefield still smoldering.
At the back of the room, Lina and Soraya had settled in a quiet corner with Loric, far too young to endure the tension of a political dinner. While Lina fed him little pieces of warm bread, Soraya silently cut a piece of meat into bite-sized cubes.
“You're eating so well, sweetheart,” Lina whispered, kissing the boy’s curls while keeping one eye trained on the main table.
“Shh... listen,” murmured Soraya, her gaze locked on Lya.
And indeed, their princess’s voice had just changed.
It had all started with a whisper.
A comment, barely audible, from a pinched-faced advisor—the kind of man born in a three-piece suit, convinced a person’s worth was measured by their bloodline and noble pedigree.
He leaned toward his neighbor and muttered, dripping with disdain:
“Dragons should’ve stayed extinct. That’s what happens when beasts meddle in politics.”
And Lya had heard him.
She turned her head slowly, with glacial precision. Every eye followed her.
She didn’t shout. She didn’t even raise her voice. She stood, tall and regal, and her piercing blue eyes locked onto the advisor like a blade.
“Repeat that,” she said, her voice still soft, almost polite. “Please. Share your thoughts with the whole table.”
The advisor paled but tried to save face.
“I... I was merely making a general remark. Nothing personal, Your Majesty.”
“Oh, really?” Lya tilted her head, feigning curiosity. “So calling an ancient people ‘beasts’ isn’t personal?”
She paused, never breaking eye contact.
“And you think politics belongs to those who sit up straight, eat quietly, and look down on anything that doesn't look like them?”
The advisor opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
“I’m a dragon, sir. A sovereign. A Luna. And now, a mother. And you’re talking to me about politics?”
She leaned in just slightly.
“When you’ve had the courage to protect a child with your life, to master your instincts instead of hiding behind your titles, then—maybe—I’ll consider letting you lecture me.”
The silence that followed was absolute.
Even Caleb had frozen, a subtle smirk curving his lips.
Drake, on the other hand, let out a loud, unapologetic laugh.
“There it is. I bet she’d fire the first shot. Thank you, Luna—I just won myself a glass of wine.”
Lina smiled from her seat, never taking her eyes off Lya.
“Look at her, Mom…” she whispered. “She doesn’t have anything left to prove. She’s not our princess anymore. She’s…”
“Our Queen,” Soraya finished, eyes shining. “And may the Ancients help whoever dares forget it.”
While the advisor hung his head in shame, Loric happily munched on a bite of cheese, completely unaware.
And in the shadowy glow of that dinner, the war of glances and words had only just begun.
Soren decided it was time to take back control.
He’d let the tension build, probably hoping that a polite—or at least contained—exchange would be enough to manage emotions. But he’d miscalculated. Badly.
And if he let his advisors keep spewing their contempt, it wouldn’t be Lya or Caleb who looked weak… it’d be him.
He slowly straightened up, laid his napkin neatly on the table, and fixed the offending advisor with a glare so cold it seemed to freeze the very air.
“That’s enough.”
Soren’s voice didn’t need to be loud to shut down every whisper and breath. It cracked like a royal command.
“You just crossed a line. A line even my title won’t protect you from if you ever cross it again.”
The advisor, pale as snow, lowered his eyes. But Soren didn’t look away. He wanted everyone in the room to hear him.
“Since this dinner started, you've acted like your contempt makes up for your cowardice. But tonight, the ones who nearly dragged our name through the mud were the rebels. Not these werewolves. Not this dragon. Not their child.”
He turned to Lya, tall and composed.
“I once rejected you, Lya. And if I’m still alive today, it’s only because you showed more grace than I ever did.”
A respectful silence followed. Even Caleb, arms crossed, looked genuinely surprised.
Soren went on, now turning to Caleb:
“And you, Alpha. If I’d been in your place... I think I’d have burned half the city down to get my son back. You held back. Ruthless, yes, but controlled. I owe you answers. And I will give them.”
He walked slowly, rounding the table.
“There are still dormant cells loyal to Ethan. I knew that. What I didn’t know is that they’ve started regrouping. I thought… foolishly… that they’d stay hidden, too broken to try anything bold. I didn’t see this attack coming. That’s my failure to own.”
Silence stretched again. Then he added, voice firm:
“But this kingdom won’t fall to a ghost. I won’t let the heirs of a mad king poison what we’ve rebuilt. And I sure as hell won’t let my advisors insult those who’ve proven tonight they’re more than just ‘allies.’”
He turned to his advisors, locking eyes with each of them.
“The next insult that leaves your mouth won’t bring their wrath down on us. It’ll bring my shame. And believe me, I’ll be far less forgiving than they are.”
The tension in the room eased—just a little. Not enough to be comfortable… but enough for the meal to continue.
Off to the side, Drake muttered under his breath:
“Note to self: when Soren decides to use his brain... it stings.”
Lina stifled a giggle, while Soraya nodded slowly, her expression a blend of relief and admiration.
At the main table, Lya said nothing.
But her once-cutting gaze softened—just a bit. Not out of forgiveness. Not yet. But out of acknowledgment.
Soren had done what a King must do. Own his mistakes. Stand tall. Speak.
And now, the cold war could begin… at the dinner table.
The meal continued in a strange kind of silence—tense, but not unbearable. Everyone seemed to be walking a tightrope, weighing every move, every word.
And yet, it wasn’t Drake who broke the tension this time with a cheeky quip. No, the ice was cracked not by sarcasm... but by the clear, joyful laughter of Loric—a sound like sunshine after a storm.
In a corner of the room, Lina had conjured a tiny glowing wolf with her fingertips. The little light creature danced across the table in front of Loric, wagging its tail and bouncing around on golden paws like a real pup.
Loric clapped his hands, eyes wide with delight, and his laughter echoed through the hall.
Smiles bloomed, even on faces too serious for their own good.
And just like that…
Dinner felt a little more human.