Chapter 105 Who’s in charge now.
The silence of the midnight chamber shattered the moment Elara’s eyes snapped open. The air, once heavy with the scent of sage and recovery, was now choked by the cloying, suffocating sweetness of jasmine and roses.
Elara bolted upright in the armchair, her heart slamming against her ribs. In the dim moonlight, the scene on the bed looked like a jagged wound.
To anyone else, it looked like a lovers' embrace. Pandora’s red hair was spilled across Ronan’s chest, her pale skin pressed against his, and her hands were tangled in the dark silk of the sheets. From Elara's angle, it looked like they were locked together in the dark.
"How dare you," Elara whispered.
The temperature in the room plummeted. Frost began to spiderweb across the windowpanes, and the shadows in the corners of the ceiling stirred like living things.
Pandora didn’t look afraid; she looked possessed. Even as Ronan’s hand crushed her throat, pinning her to the headboard, she leaned into him with a shrill, manic laugh.
"The White Wolf rejected me, Ronan!" she shrieked, her eyes wide and bloodshot. "I have nothing left but you and this throne!"
She lunged toward him, her voice cracking with a desperate edge. "I don’t care about the damned bond! I am the only one who can handle your darkness!"
Pandora turned her manic gaze toward Elara, a cruel, triumphant sneer curling her lip. "Tell her, Ronan! Tell her how many times I’ve been in this bed while she was rotting in a cellar!"
"Move, Ronan," Elara commanded.
Her voice wasn’t a scream; it was a low, lethal hum of power. Ronan’s stormy gray eyes flickered toward her, full of a desperate, silent plea for her to understand. He saw the violet light swirling around her palms and the raw, territorial predator looking back at him.
"Elara, wait—" Ronan started, but he saw her eyes flash.
"I said move!"
Ronan released his grip and rolled away in one fluid motion. Before Pandora could even draw a ragged breath or adjust her torn bodice, Elara struck.
A wave of raw, silver-blue Sovereign magic exploded from Elara’s hands, hitting Pandora like a physical weight. The blast ripped the woman off the bed, sending her soaring across the room until she slammed into the heavy stone masonry.
Elara was on her before she could hit the floor. She grabbed Pandora by her disheveled red hair, forcing her head back against the cold stone.
"You think this is a game?" Elara hissed, her eyes glowing with a terrifying, ethereal light. "You think you can sneak into my room, touch my mate, and claim a crown you haven't earned?"
Elara backhanded her, the blow reinforced by a pulse of kinetic energy that sent Pandora spinning onto the rug. Before Pandora could recover, Elara pinned her down with a heavy boot to her chest.
"He is mine," Elara snarled, her voice echoing with a power that made the furniture rattle. "Touch him again, and I won’t just hit you. I will unmake you. I will strip the alpha blood from your veins until you’re nothing but a hollow shell."
Pandora spit blood, her eyes wide with a mix of terror and manic obsession. "You're a monster..."
"I'm a mate who's had enough," Elara shot back.
Ronan stood by the bed, his chest heaving, watching Elara with a mixture of awe and terrifying pride. He reached out to the mindlink, his voice a thunderclap through the palace. "Matthew. Elara's chambers. NOW. Bring two guards."
Moments later, the doors burst open. Matthew and the guards rushed in, swords drawn. They skidded to a halt, seeing Pandora pinned under Elara’s boot, looking like she’d been through a meat grinder.
"Break her legs!" Elara barked, her eyes still glowing silver as she kicked Pandora one last time before walking towards Ronan.
The guards froze.
Matthew didn't need to be told what happened before he got the whole point. "Elara, wait!" He stepped in, hands raised. "Look at her. She’s the Southern Alpha’s daughter. If you break her legs, it’s an act of war we can't afford. We still have to look out for the nosferus."
"I don't give a damn about the South!" Elara snapped, turning her freezing gaze on Matthew. "She wanted to claim my mate right in my presence!"
Matthew actually took a step back. He looked at Ronan, seeking help, but Ronan was looking at Elara.
"Matthew is right, Elara," Ronan said softly, though his jaw was tight. "The war is coming regardless. We need her in the palace so her father has no excuses."
Elara stared at Pandora for a long, heavy beat, her magic humining with the desire to do more damage. "You need her in the palace? You still want to keep her here?"
"No- it's not..." Ronan opened his mouth to explain but Elara turned away.
Fenrir's snarl echoed at the back of Ronan's head, "I'd be careful of my next words If I were you."
Elara raised a brow with a weird smile etched on her face, "It's not what Ronan?"
Ronan lowered his gaze and let out sheepish proud smile, "This feeling certainly feels good..." he thought
"Since you still need her just as you needed her before that you placed her under house arrest," Elara started and then walked backed to Pandora who was clenching her bleeding abdomen which was as a result of the blast.
Elara stretched her hands and in that moment, Pandora held no weight. She was lifted off the ground.
Matthew watched in shock as well as the guards present as a thought lingered in his mind. "When did she become this strong?"
"Drag her to the dungeon," Elara told the guards, her voice cold and final. "And tighten the security measures."
Matthew nodded in response. The hairs on the back of his neck stood under the pressure that oozed off Elara. She wasn't crowned the queen yet, but her aura was already on par with Queen Arwens.
Tossing Pandora to them, Elara hissed, "I won't wait for the King's permission to end you the next time you pull such a stunt."
"You bitch! The position of Luna is mine! Mine!" Pandora thrashed as she tried to lunch an attack on Elara.
"Take her away." Ronan ordered.
Matthew signaled the guards. They hauled a sobbing, hysterical Pandora out of the room. Her screams about the throne echoed down the hall until the heavy doors slammed shut, leaving a ringing silence in their wake.
Ronan didn't wait. He crossed the room in three strides and pulled Elara into a crushing hug. "I'm sorry. I should have told you—"
"I don't want to hear about it anymore," Elara deadpanned, finally leaning her head against his chest. "I need my beauty sleep. We can address the issue at a later time."
In her mind, Lyra wasn't satisfied. The white wolf was still pacing, her fur bristling. "Next time," Lyra snapped at Fenrir, "I’m not letting Elara stop at a backhand. I’ll tear her throat out and I'll claw out your face."
Fenrir gave a submissive, internal whine. He knew exactly who was in charge now.