Chapter 143 CHAPTER 143
The council chamber had been in session for hours.
Ethan looked up from the stack of papers before him and realized, not for the first time that morning, how heavy his eyelids felt.
He exhaled slowly.
It had been weeks since he last convened the council meeting. He was exhausted. Every part of him was. And so were the elders.
For weeks, he had set kingdom matters aside.
Now, as he sat here at last, surrounded by the very people tasked with advising him, the cost of that absence was visible in every stiff posture and tight jaw around the table.
He could not blame them for their frustration.
He had answered every question. Signed every document. Acknowledged every failure without excuse. He looked composed, but the weight behind his eyes told another story.
It was Vaughn who finally broke the rhythm.
“So,” Vaughn said, leaning back, fingers tapping once against the table, “are we finished with the small matters, or are we going to address the larger issue?”
A few heads turned toward him.
Ethan did not immediately respond.
Vaughn continued, voice sharper now. “Because from where I’m sitting, it seems the kingdom has been running itself while its king disappears into research chambers and training grounds.”
Lora stiffened slightly.
“You’ve had explanations for every delay,” Vaughn went on. “But at some point, Ethan, one begins to wonder - are you planning to govern with this council, or without it?”
The air tightened.
Ethan folded his hands calmly.
“If you are referring to my absence,” he said, “then yes. I have been occupied with ensuring this kingdom survives what is coming.”
Vaughn let out a short, humorless laugh. “I don’t know about that. We have had to let so many things slide I’m beginning to think we have outgrown our resourcefulness in these chambers. First, you brought a human into the palace, allowed her access to protected spaces, and now…” he tilted his head, “…. we hear she may be sent to Lunaris.”
The word rippled through the room.
“That,” Vaughn added, “sounds less like governance and more like turning the palace into a madhou…”
Ethan raised a hand.
“I don’t know about all your allegations,” he said evenly, “but that is one of the reasons why this meeting was called.”
Vaughn frowned.
Ethan gestured toward the table. “If you had waited until the agenda reached its natural order, you would have seen that Isabel’s status is item seven.”
Gregor nodded quickly, tapping the parchment. “It is listed, yes.”
“You jumped ahead,” Ethan continued, voice calm but firm, “and accused me of recklessness before hearing the matter discussed.”
Kellan glanced at Vaughn. “The king has a point.”
Vaughn’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
Ethan continued, “No decision has been made. The proposal was raised. Concerns were noted. And this council was convened precisely because I wanted your input.”
Lora exhaled softly, tension easing from her shoulders.
“Then let us discuss it properly,” Kellan said. “Without accusations.”
Rufus nodded once. “Agreed.”
Ethan outlined it then - measured, careful. Isabel’s request. The risks. The potential value. He did not defend it blindly, nor dismiss the danger.
When he finished, silence followed.
Rufus was the first to speak. He did not raise his voice, but the room seemed to quiet anyway.
“I am not opposed to the human attending Lunaris,” he said carefully. “But we have made mistakes before by opening our world too freely. We know very little about her beyond the fact that she arrived with the princess. We do not know her lineage. We do not know her parents. We do not know what loyalties she may carry. At present, all we truly have is her word.”
He paused, fingers tightening together.
“And words,” he added, “have betrayed this council before.”
Ethan did not bristle. He leaned back slightly, hands resting on the table, calm but firm.
“I am aware of that risk,” he said. “Which is why I did not rely on her word alone.”
Rufus lifted his gaze. So did the others.
“I had her history verified,” Ethan continued. “Her family. Her records. Everything she told us checked out. I would not have allowed her to remain in this palace otherwise.”
He glanced briefly toward Lora, then back to the council.
“And beyond that,” he said, more quietly now, “the months she has spent here speak for themselves. She has shown no signs of deception. No hunger for our secrets. If anything, she has brought balance where there was strain.”
Vaughn scoffed softly, but Ethan did not look at him.
“My sister has taken her in as family,” Ethan went on. “If there comes a day when Isabel must leave this palace, it will not be because we cast her out.”
His voice hardened just enough to be heard.
“Because I will not.”
He let that settle before adding, “And if she is to remain among us, then it is better she understands our world than fears it.”
Kellan nodded slowly. “Many students at Lunaris have not yet shown their wolves,” he said. “By that measure, the human would not be so different from half the academy.”
A brief silence followed.
Kellan exhaled slowly, fingers steepled before him. When he spoke, his tone was even, measured, carrying none of Vaughn’s sharpness and none of Ethan’s quiet authority.
“Both sides have merit,” he said. “That much is clear. The risks Rufus raises are real, and so is the opportunity the king speaks of. We can see both edges of the blade.”
He glanced around the chamber, at the slumped shoulders, the tired eyes, the fingers rubbing temples.
“But we have been here for hours,” he went on. “And no amount of further debate will change the truth of it. There are only two outcomes before us. Either the human attends Lunaris, or she does not.”
A brief pause.
“If we continue circling the same arguments, we will only exhaust ourselves further. I suggest we put it to a vote and accept the will of this council.”
There was no protest.
Lora nodded first, already lifting her hand.
“I am with the king on this matter.”
Ethan followed without hesitation.
Kellan raised his as well.
Across the table, Thorne hesitated only a heartbeat before doing the same.
Rufus remained still, his hands folded.
Vaughn’s jaw tightened, but he did not raise his hand.
Gregor cleared his throat softly, already noting the count.
“The majority is in favor,” Kellan said. “The human will attend Lunaris.”
Ethan closed the last folder before him and rested his palms briefly on the polished surface of the council table. The room had grown heavy with all members present showing clear signs of fatigue.
“I know this meeting has gone on longer than it should have,” he said at last, his voice steady but worn. “And I know I bear responsibility for that.”
Several of the elders shifted in their seats.
“We have covered what needed to be addressed today,” Ethan said, gathering the papers together. “This council is adjourned.”
Chairs scraped softly against the stone floor as Ethan pushed his back, preparing to rise.
“Hm.” Someone cleared their voice but did not say anything.
Ethan paused.
“Hm,” the sound came again, sharper this time from Vaughn.
Slowly, Ethan looked up.
Vaughn had not moved from his seat, though his fingers now rested flat against the table, knuckles pale. His gaze was fixed, calculating.
“Elder Vaughn,” Ethan said evenly, “is there something further you wish to raise?”
Vaughn stood.
“I was under the impression,” he said, “that before we dispersed, we would be briefed on Commander Liam.”
A ripple passed through the room, subtle but unmistakable.
“What about him?” Ethan asked.
“I have heard reports,” Vaughn went on, his tone carefully measured, “that the Commander has abandoned regular guard duties. That he trains alone now. That he spends hours in the training grounds without witnesses.”
Ethan’s posture did not change, but something beneath the surface stirred.
“And,” Vaughn added, “that he has been performing magic.”
Silence followed.
“I do not know,” Vaughn continued, “whether this has something to do with the fae who comes and goes without council sanction, or the priestess who seems permanently stationed at his side. What I do know is that such matters fall squarely within the council’s jurisdiction.”
Ethan rose. A low sound escaped him— a restrained growl, the kind that warned rather than threatened.
“I decide,” Ethan said quietly, “what is discussed in this council, and when.”
Vaughn stiffened, but Ethan did not give him room to respond.
“Nothing you have mentioned,” Ethan went on, “has come through official palace communication. If I believed Commander Liam’s situation required discussion today, it would have been placed on the agenda.”
He stepped fully away from the table now, presence filling the chamber.
“When the time is right,” Ethan said, “you will be informed. Until then, trust that every decision I make is for the good of this kingdom.”
Vaughn turned sharply toward Lora.
“And you,” he said. “You are content with this? With your son being shielded from scrutiny?”
Lora rose slowly to her feet.
“I stand with the king,” she said, her voice calm but unyielding. “If he says the time is not right, then it is not.”
Ethan’s gaze swept the room.
“Does anyone else wish to raise an issue before we part?”
No one spoke.
“Then this council is concluded.”
Ethan turned and left the chamber.
One by one, the elders followed.
Outside, the stone corridor swallowed their footsteps. Vaughn walked beside Rufus, his expression dark, his jaw tight.
“There are too many secrets in this palace,” Vaughn muttered at last.
Rufus glanced around once before replying. “There were once before – seventeen years ago. I’m afraid the king maybe making the same kind of mistake his parents did.”
Vaughn’s eyes flicked toward him. “You remember how that ended – It cost lives.”
Rufus’s mouth thinned. “Sadly.”
Vaughn slowed his pace. “Then perhaps it is time we stop waiting to be told what the king thinks we can handle.”
Rufus nodded silently.