BACK IN BLOODMOON BACK
The throne room was crowded with reporters lining the walls. Werewolvea and journalists from a dozen different packs, their cameras and recording devices pointed at the obsidian throne. Guards stood at attention every few feet, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. The air was thick with tension and expensive cologne.
King Lionel sat on his throne, legs crossed, fingers steepled. His silver hair caught the torchlight. His thundercloud eyes swept across the room with the patience of a predator who had already won.
"Report," he said.
General Vincent stepped forward. He was a massive wolf, broad-shouldered and scarred, his grey fur visible at the edges of his uniform. He bowed low.
"Your Majesty, our border patrols encountered lizard scouts on the northern edge of the territory. Three of them. Maybe four."
"And?"
"We bombed them, Your Majesty. From a distance. Artillery and fire arrows. They did not get close enough to speak."
King Lionel nodded slowly. "Casualties?"
"None on our side, Your Majesty. The lizards retreated into the swamp. We are unsure how many we killed. The terrain makes it difficult to track."
"Good." The king uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. "Let me be clear about something. The lizards are not our allies. They are not our neighbors. They are not our friends. They are traders. Nothing more."
One of the reporters raised a hand. "Your Majesty, may I ask a question?"
"You may."
"The lizards have been trying to establish communication with our pack for months. Some say they want an alliance. Others say they want to trade for something specific. Why do we refuse to even hear them out?"
King Lionel smiled coldly.
"Because I do not negotiate with creatures who hide in swamps and buy human slaves."
Murmurs rippled through the reporters.
"The lizards have a curse," the king continued. "A witch turned their ancestors from humans into reptiles three centuries ago. They have been searching for a cure ever since. They believe the blood of certain wolves can break that curse."
Another reporter spoke up. "Is that true, Your Majesty? Can wolf blood break a curse?"
"I do not know. I do not care." The king's voice hardened. "What I know is that the lizards have been buying human slaves from the eastern markets for generations. They use them as servants. As breeders. As test subjects for their experiments."
He stood up and walked to the edge of the platform.
"We trade with them because the human slaves are useful. They work in our fields. They clean our homes. They warm our beds." He paused. "But that is where the relationship ends. We do not owe them conversations. We do not owe them alliances. And we certainly do not owe them access to our wolves."
A female reporter with dark fur and sharp eyes raised her hand. "Your Majesty, what if the lizards are not here for slaves? What if they are here for something else? Someone else?"
King Lionel's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"There are rumors, Your Majesty. Whispers. That the lizards are searching for a specific wolf. A female. One with rare blood."
The room went quiet.
The king stared at the reporter for a long moment. Then he laughed.
"Rumors," he said. "Whispers. My court is full of them. Every week, someone tells me that a witch has cursed the triplets. Every month, someone claims that a long-lost princess will return to claim the throne. Rumors are wind, madam. They blow in and they blow out."
He returned to his throne and sat down heavily.
"Here is what I know. The lizards came to my border. My troops bombed them. They retreated. If they come again, my troops will bomb them again." He looked at General Vincent. "Tighten security on the northern border. Double the patrols. Install more watchtowers. I want to know the moment a lizard scale crosses into our territory."
General Vance bowed. "It will be done, Your Majesty."
King Lionel turned back to the reporters.
"As for trade—if the lizards do not wish to sell us human slaves anymore, we will simply contact other suppliers. The eastern markets are full of merchants who would be happy to take their place."
Another reporter raised a hand. "Your Majesty, is it true that you are offering twenty million dollars to any woman who bears a son to the triplets?"
The king's smile returned. "It is true."
"And how many women are currently in the training program?"
"Forty. They are all healthy and fertile. All eager to serve the crown."
The reporters scribbled notes and cameras clicked.
"We have implemented an intensive training regimen," the king continued. "The women are learning everything they need to know to please my sons and bear their children. They will do whatever it takes."
A young reporter near the back blushed. "Your Majesty, isn't that... controversial? Some might call it exploitation."
King Lionel's eyes flashed. "Some might call it survival. My sons are Lycan. They are powerful beyond measure. But that power comes with a price. Without the right mate, without the right partner, they could lose control. They could kill. They could destroy everything I have built."
He stood up again.
"I am not exploiting these women. I am giving them an opportunity. A chance to bear royal children. A chance to earn twenty million dollars. A chance to elevate their families for generations."
He walked to the edge of the platform and looked down at the reporters.
"If they do not want the opportunity, they are free to leave. No one is forcing them to stay."
Silence.
"Any more questions?"
No one spoke.
"Good." King Lionel waved his hand. "The press conference is over. I have more important matters to attend to."
The reporters began to pack up their equipment. Guards moved to escort them out.
Before he left, the king turned to General Vincent.
"The sex slaves," he said. "The training. How far along are they?"
General Vance consulted a small notebook. "They are on the first phase, Your Majesty. Posture. Basic obedience and other teachings."
"And the second phase?"
"Begins next week, Your Majesty. More... intimate lessons."
King Lionel nodded. "Good. They need to hurry. I do not have forever. My sons do not have forever. I want heirs. I want grandchildren. I want the Cunningham bloodline to continue."
He walked toward the doors.
"Tell Daisy to push them harder. I want results. I want pregnancies. I want to hold a grandson in my arms before the year ends."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"I have waited long enough," he said quietly. "We all have."