Chapter 33 Council Meeting
DAGNOTH DRACULIS
The walk to the courtroom felt wrong.
Not heavy—just aware. Every torch I passed burned too brightly, every footstep echoing like the palace was listening. I welcomed the distance from Dahila at first. Distance meant control. Control meant the king.
But my wolf had other plans.
You lingered, I knew he was going to come up woth this.
I didn’t slow. I concluded a conversation.
"You softened," from the way you looked at her it was obvious.
My jaw tightened. "I negotiated, it's my way of confirming some suspicion."
"It didnt see look like you were confirming any suspicion to me, you smiled dagnoth! You fucking smiled!
I stopped.
The guards behind me stiffened, but I lifted a hand without turning. My breathing remained steady, but beneath my skin, my wolf stretched lazily, pleased with himself.
"You are falling for her dagnoth."
The words struck sharper than any insult.
“I don’t fall,” I muttered under my breath as I resumed walking. “I rule.”
"You were supposed watched her like prey."
A pause.
"And like shelter."
“That’s strategy,” I replied
"Lie again. Say it louder. Maybe you’ll believe it."
I shoved him back, building the familiar walls—duty, crown, blood. Dahila was sharp. Useful. Nothing more.
And yet—
Her folded arms.
Her lifted chin.
The way she made me plead.
A low snarl escaped me before I could stop it.
The courtroom doors loomed ahead—massive, carved with the sigils of every Alpha lineage that had ever bowed to my throne. The guards pulled them open at once.
Conversation died instantly.
Every elder was present.
That alone told me this wasn’t about paperwork or territory disputes.
I took my seat at the head of the chamber, spine straight, expression carved from stone.
“Speak,” I said.
Elder Morvain leaned forward, both hands resting on his rune-carved staff. “Thank you for coming, Your Majesty.”
“You insisted,” I replied coolly. “Now explain.”
A glance passed between them—silent, heavy.
“It is time,” Elder Kaelith said.
My eyes narrowed. “Time for what?”
“For an heir.”
The word settled into the room like a verdict.
My wolf went still.
The air thickened, pressure building behind my ribs. I let the silence stretch—long enough to remind them who sat before them.
“You summoned me for this?” I asked.
“Yes,” Morvain said. “Because the realm cannot wait any longer.”
“I rule,” I replied. “The borders are secure. The packs are united.”
“There is always a threat,” Kaelith cut in. “And time is the cruelest one.”
Another elder spoke, voice calm and merciless. “You are not immortal, my king.”
“I am not dead either.”
“But succession must be ensured.”
I leaned back slowly. “You are aware,” I said, “that my ability to produce an heir is… uncertain.”
Unspoken words hovered.
The broken bond.
The unanswered curse.
“We are aware,” Morvain said gently. “Which is why this cannot be delayed.”
“So what do you suggest?” I asked.
“That you take a Luna,” Kaelith said.
The room held its breath.
“I have one already.”
“Then choose another one,” an elder replied. “Strong blood. Proven fertility.”
My wolf growled.
“I will not turn my throne into a breeding contract.”
“You already have,” Kaelith said calmly. “By sitting on it.”
I rose to my feet. Power rolled through the chamber, thick and undeniable. The elders held their ground, but unease rippled beneath their composure.
“You forget who you address.”
“And you forget who you rule for.”
Silence followed.
Then Morvain spoke again. “There is… another matter.”
I didn’t like that tone.
“The children,” he said.
Every muscle in my body locked.
“What about them?”
“They live in the palace,” Kaelith said. “Under your protection.”
“They are here because I allow it.”
“But the people notice,” another elder added. “They question.”
I saw it clearly now—and rage flared.
“Dahila is not my mate,” I said sharply. “Nor my concubine. Nor anything that concerns this council.”
“Yet,” Morvain said quietly, “your attention lingers.”
I slammed my palm against the stone table.
“Enough.”
The chamber froze.
“I will not be cornered,” I said. “Not by tradition. Not by fear. And not by whispers.”
Morvain studied me. “Then give us assurance, my king. That the throne will not fall into chaos.”
I held his gaze.
“I will secure an heir.”
Relief swept the room.
“But it will be on my terms.”
“When?” Kaelith pressed.
“When I am ready.”
“That may not be soon enough.”
“It will have to be.”
The meeting ended shortly after. The elders filed out, tension heavy in their wake. I remained seated, staring at the ancient sigils carved into the table.
An heir.
A future.
My wolf spoke again "You already see her when they say the word."
I stood abruptly.
“She is irrelevant.”
She grounds you.
She challenges you.
She makes you want.
“I do not want.”
"You already do."
As I left the courtroom, her image rose unbidden—defiant, warm, infuriatingly real.
And for the first time, I wasn’t afraid of what the elders demanded.
I was afraid of what I might choose.