Something cracked in my chest. “Yes. We’re going right now.”
I looked at Mal, mouthed the words: “Get them out. Now.”
He nodded immediately, standing and pulling us both to our feet. His alpha command rolled out over the crowd, forcing silence through sheer dominance.
“This gathering is over,” he announced. “Everyone will return to their quarters. Now.”
“But Your Majesty-”
“NOW.”
The force behind that word made even the most powerful kings take a step back. But they weren’t leaving…And they weren’t shutting the fuck up.
Shit.
4
— • —
Mal
My wolf was screaming.
I stood between the crowd and my family, every muscle locked, every instinct howling at me to shift and tear and protect. Behind me, Wen was murmuring to Killian, her voice soft and soothing. His powers were still flickering weakly around them, little sparks of magic he couldn’t control, portals opening and closing the size of coins.
My hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Not from fear. From the sheer effort of keeping myself leashed when every instinct demanded blood.
I was a king. I had responsibilities. Alliances to maintain, kingdoms to protect, centuries of diplomacy riding on my ability to remain calm and rational.
But I was also a father. And right now, the father was winning.
“SILENCE,” I commanded, letting my alpha power flood the room even more than before.
The effect this time was immediate. Wolves dropped their eyes, their bodies instinctively bowing under the weight of dominance radiating from me. Even the strongest among them felt it, that primal urge to submit to a more powerful predator. Some actually whimpered.
Good. They should whimper.
Aurion was beside me instantly, his own alpha command reinforcing mine. “Everyone calm down immediately.”
My eyes were glowing. I could feel it, the heat behind them, the wolf so close to the surface it was taking everything I had not to shift completely. I needed to get my family out of here, get them somewhere safe, but these fucking people just wouldn’t listen.
A dignitary wearing Valoryn’s colors stepped forward, a ridiculous dead-bird hat somehow still perched on his head. Even in crisis, the man accessorized like a... what was the word? The profession that worked with dead animals, preserved them, made them look alive. Taxidermist. Wen had used it once, describing someone’s unfortunate fur coat. He accessorized like a taxidermist’s nightmare. Behind him, Valerius Crescentborn himself stood watching in silence.
“King Malachar,” the Crescentborn representative said, his voice carrying the kind of practiced authority that came from speaking for royalty. “Those portals. Where did they lead?”
“I do not know.” My voice came out as a snarl. “My son is four years old and terrified. That is my priority right now.”
“Your priority should be our safety!” A dignitary from Wynter Kingdom stepped forward. His face was red with anger and genuine fear. “You don’t KNOW where those portals went?!”
“No,” I bit out. “Because I was more concerned with my terrified child than cataloging dimensional gateways.”
A representative from Duskmere’s delegation spoke carefully, his tone measured. “King Malachar, with respect, they could lead anywhere. To any realm.”
Mortimer Goldridge himself stood silent, his expression unreadable. The kings were letting their people do the talking, probably to maintain deniability later. Smart. Infuriating, but smart.
“To other dragon kingdoms,” a noble from Ebonvale added, pushing forward aggressively. “More fae. To realms with creatures we have no knowledge of, no treaties with, no defenses against.”
“Unknown portals are gateways for invasion,” someone from Moonhaven’s delegation added.
