Chapter 11 No.11

Kelli Nelson POV:

The suffocating weight of royal Alpha dominance still crashed through the Great Hall, forcing the lords and ladies in the front rows to bow their necks in submission.

I remained kneeling on the icy marble floor. My spine stayed rigid, my hands folded demurely over the front of my black mourning gown, while my peripheral vision stayed locked onto Karson Wiley.

Karson's face was the color of a bruised plum. He lunged forward half a step, his heavy boots slamming into the stone with a dull thud as he fought to interrupt the royal decree.

He pressed a fist against his chest, bowing toward the dais with frantic haste. "Your Majesty, I beg you to reconsider! Kelli is merely a child blinded by grief! We cannot allow a dead man to claim a living pack!"

I raised my head instantly. Tears pooled at the rims of my eyes, trembling on the brink of falling, while my voice sliced through the hall with crystalline clarity. "Lord Karson, are you suggesting that your own flesh and blood, the great hero Edward who gave his life for the Crown, is unworthy of my pack's eternal loyalty?"

Karson's jaw muscles spasmed violently. The sheer weight of my public accusation suffocated the words in his throat, and his fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned stark white.

From the dark recess on the left side of the hall, Edward shifted forward. Clad in black iron, the raw Alpha dominance rolling off his frame felt like razor-sharp frost pressing directly against the back of Karson's thick neck.

Karson shuddered under that lethal presence. Cold sweat broke out along his receding hairline, and the rehearsed arguments he had prepared died on his tongue.

I seized the opening, sliding forward half an inch on my knees. "Unless, of course, Lord Karson possesses another trueborn heir whose bloodline is pure enough to endure the Sacred Blood Trial of the High Council?"

At the mention of the Sacred Blood Trial, Karson's pupils constricted into pinpricks. His gaze darted frantically toward Demonte, who lay bleeding and groaning on the floor, terror flashing behind the older Alpha's eyes.

A razor-thin smile brushed my lips before vanishing beneath my mask of grief. I tapped my fingertips lightly against my silk skirts, savoring the panic unraveling his decades of calculated composure.

In the shadows behind me, Edward let out a low, mocking scoff that hammered into Karson's fraying nerves like an iron mallet.

Alpha King Adrain narrowed his golden wolf eyes, glaring down at the Lord of Ironfang with unmistakable displeasure. "Karson, do you dare challenge this maiden's sacred devotion to your fallen heir?"

Karson's knees buckled. He dropped heavily onto the stone, the sickening crack of bone against marble echoing across the silent room as his arrogant posture shattered completely.

He ground his molars together, spitting out the words through clenched teeth. "No, Your Majesty. The House of Ironfang... humbly honors her devotion to Edward."

A chorus of astonished murmurs rippled across the grand hall. The high nobles stared in disbelief, stunned that the iron-fisted ruler of the Ironfang territory had just been forced to kneel and yield to a supposedly helpless, Wolfless orphan.

Demonte forced his head up from the floor, his amber eyes wide with raw horror and the agonizing realization that his father was abandoning him. He parted his bloody lips to scream, but Karson shot him a murderous glare that pinned him to the floorboards.

I exhaled a slow, quiet breath, letting my rigid shoulders ease slightly as a single, flawless tear rolled down my pale cheek.

"Thank you, Lord Karson, for acknowledging my eternal bond with your noble son," I whispered, bowing deeply toward him. Every single word was a blade twisted into his pride.

Karson kept his eyes glued to the stone, the veins on his forehead throbbing violently, radiating enough suppressed rage to tear me limb from limb if we were not kneeling before the King.

Alpha King Adrain lowered his right hand, palm down, instantly silencing the murmuring assembly.

"The Blood Trial will decide it," the King's deep voice boomed through the vaulted rafters. "If Lord Karson will not name another trueborn heir, then when the trial is done, the Crown will hear this maiden's petition itself."

Beside him, Dowager Luna Erla smiled with deep satisfaction, tapping her gold-topped cane against the dais in firm approval.

Behind Demonte, Baylee slumped against a pillar. Her fingers twisted her embroidered handkerchief until the delicate silk ripped, her manicured nails digging into her palms until droplets of blood seeped through her fingers.

She glared at me, her wide green eyes stripped of their innocent facade, burning with unadulterated venom and twisted jealousy.

I did not spare her a second glance. I rose smoothly to my feet, smoothing the dark folds of my skirts, standing tall and unyielding beneath the glowing chandeliers.

Heavy footfalls echoed across the marble as Edward stepped out from the darkness. His blood-spattered boots crushed the debris of shattered crystal goblets, coming to a halt barely twelve inches from where I stood.

He tilted his head down. Those bottomless, obsidian eyes locked onto mine, his hot breath brushing against the stray wisps of hair along my brow. "A bold move, little orphan."

I tilted my chin up, meeting his lethal gaze without flinching, inhaling the scent of fresh pine and metallic blood that clung to his battle-worn armor. "I only claim what is rightfully mine, Commander."

A low, dark rumble vibrated within his massive chest, the heat of his presence radiating through the thin air between us and sending an electric shiver across my skin.

He said nothing more. With a sharp turn of his heel, his tattered black cloak billowed outward as he strode toward the grand arched exit.

I watched his retreating silhouette, my left hand instinctively reaching up to brush the rough moonlight silver wolf-tooth bracelet hidden beneath my lace cuff, my heart hammering against my ribs.

A sharp, mocking laugh echoed from the gallery, instantly shattering the heavy silence.

Royal Consort Victoria Astor stepped gracefully past the whispering crowd, her gold-trimmed violet gown sweeping the floor as her razor-sharp eyes fixed upon the pale, trembling form of Queen Eleanor.

Victoria's crimson lips curved into a venomous smirk. "My, my, what a fascinating turn of events. Wouldn't you agree, Queen Eleanor?"