The Council's Judgment
The horn still echoed through the fortress stones as Ciaran led me down a spiral stair. His stride was unyielding, each step pounding like a drumbeat of inevitability. The shadows thickened, torches flickering against carved walls older than any kingdom.
My pulse rattled in my ears. I had thought the Great Hall was suffocating every Alpha and envoy staring, Selene weaving poison into their minds. But this was worse. The council chamber wasn't built for spectacle. It was built for judgment.
The doors loomed before us, black stone carved with crescent moons and snarling wolves. Guards pulled them open, and the weight of power pressed down at once.
The chamber was a circle. No banners, no pageantry, only thrones of carved obsidian set in a ring, each occupied by a figure steeped in authority. The Council of Elders wolves who had survived wars, betrayals, blood feuds. Their eyes glowed with the weight of centuries.
And every one of them fixed on me.
Ciaran's grip on my wrist steadied me, though it felt less like comfort and more like a shackle. He led me to the center of the circle, where the stone floor bore a single mark: the sigil of the Blood Moon, carved deep enough to cut.
"The King brings before us his mate," one of the Elders intoned, his voice like gravel. His hair was white as bone, his claws tipped in silver. "A half-blood. Human-born."
The words slashed across the chamber, deliberate. The other Elders rumbled in disapproval, the air thick with it.
Ciaran's voice answered, steady thunder. "By the bond, she is chosen."
"The bond has erred before," another Elder spat, a woman with eyes as sharp as blades. "Shall we risk the throne itself on fragile blood?"
Heat rose in my chest. Fragile. Always fragile. Always less. I opened my mouth, but Ciaran's hand tightened, silencing me. His eyes warned: Not yet.
Another voice spoke, smoother, dripping honey. "Perhaps it is not the bond that erred."
The chamber shifted, and Selene stepped from the shadows. She wore no crown, no throne, yet every Elder's gaze softened at her presence. Her gown of violet silk whispered across the stone as she moved, her beauty a weapon sharper than steel.
"She is my sister," Selene said, her tone laced with aching sweetness. "And I want nothing more than her happiness. But…" Her eyes lingered on me, glittering with venom only I could see. "The King's mate must carry strength enough to guard the realm. To bind the packs. Do you not see how she trembles before you?"
A murmur rippled through the chamber. Wolves nodded. Some eyes lingered on my hands clenched, shaking despite my will.
My throat burned. I wanted to scream, to tell them Selene's sweetness was a mask. But the Elders weren't blind they were charmed, bewitched.
One Elder leaned forward, his voice heavy. "If she is to stand beside the King, let her blood speak."
My heart stuttered.
Ciaran's voice was steel. "Enough."
But the Elder did not flinch. His eyes bored into me. "The council has seen blood reveal what words conceal. If she is unfit, her veins will show it."
Selene's lips curved, slow and merciless. "Yes," she whispered. "Let the truth be known."
The chamber seemed to constrict, the air heavy with expectation. My skin prickled, every instinct screaming to run.
"Her blood," the Elder pressed, "or the packs will not follow."
Ciaran's growl thundered, shaking the walls. "You dare question the bond?"
"We dare protect the throne," the Elder snapped back. "If she is worthy, prove it."
Silence fell. A silence that rang louder than any horn.
Ciaran's grip on me had turned to iron, but beneath it his pulse was sharp, furious. His gaze met mine, silver fire blazing. And in that fire, I saw it hesitation. Not doubt of me. But knowledge.
He knew something.
Selene's whisper from before coiled through my mind, cold and unrelenting: Ask him, little sister. Ask your mighty King why your birth was hidden in shadows.
My breath came shallow. My chest ached. And though every instinct told me to stay silent, the words slipped free, raw and trembling.
"Tell me."
The chamber stilled.
I forced my chin higher, meeting Ciaran's burning eyes. "They demand my blood. Selene drips poison. The council doubts. And you" My voice cracked, but I steadied it, louder. "You know why my birth was hidden. Don't you?"
A ripple of shock moved through the chamber. The Elders leaned forward, eyes gleaming. Even Selene's smile flickered, delight glimmering like firelight.
Ciaran's jaw locked, every muscle tight. For a long, terrible moment, he said nothing. Only his eyes betrayed him silver storms, shadows of truths unsaid.
When his voice came, it was low, lethal. "This is not the place."
"It is exactly the place," an Elder countered. "If secrets of her blood touch the throne, they touch us all."
The circle tightened. The weight of centuries pressed down. My pulse raced until I thought it might tear me open.
Ciaran stepped forward, pulling me behind him, his voice a snarl that cracked like thunder.
"She is mine. That is all that matters."
But the words rang hollow. Not because they lacked power
But because Selene was smiling.
She didn't need to win tonight.
She only needed the silence between his words.
And the council heard it too.