Chapter 259: Let Me Guess
Morvakar rolled his eyes, the gesture so exaggerated it was almost comical. "Let me guess," he muttered, "you want me to find Gabriel’s hidden exit."
"You are smarter than you look, Morvakar," Damien replied, unable to resist the jab.
"Idiot," Morvakar shot back instantly. "Can I take a nap first?" His hand flopped weakly onto his chest, as though the mere thought of rising was an insult to his current state.
"You will nap in the car. Get your ass up." Damien’s patience frayed. He strode forward and extended a firm hand toward Morvakar, who glared at it for a long beat before finally relenting. Damien pulled him up, catching the sorcerer’s sagging weight against his shoulder. "I don’t mean to be a jerk, but I have to get my family home," Damien added, quieter this time.
"You are always a jerk!" Morvakar spat back. Still, his crooked grin betrayed a sliver of fondness.
Damien ignored the jab, his eyes shifting instead to Talon. "Go back to Blood City ahead of us. Inform Eryk to gather the councilmen and wait at Gabriel’s house. Royal orders."
Talon’s eyes flicked briefly to Luna, then to the infant, and finally back to Damien. He turned on his heel and left instantly. His loyalty was iron—but his silence spoke volumes.
Damien adjusted his grip on Morvakar, who was still cursing under his breath about kings being slave drivers, and then Damien said, "Come on, big guy. We have to get you back home."
Morvakar snorted, leaning heavily against him. "Careful, Your Majesty. Keep carrying me around like this and people will think you care."
"Oh shut up!" Damien murmured, his gaze cutting briefly to Luna, who stood watching them.
*****
Lucivar had no idea what Damien was up to, but he trusted his son. That trust was iron-forged. His keen eyes scanned the councilmen gathered, and he smirked to himself. The moment Gabriel made the mistake of going after Luna, Lucivar knew it was the beginning of the end. You do not corner a man who would give his life for a woman he loves. Big... big mistake. Gabriel would learn, as all enemies eventually did, that a Dragos’ love was more dangerous than their wrath.
He stood silently among the other council members in the courtyard, his towering frame commanding attention. No one dared to speak too loudly, no one dared to let their whispers reach his ears. He was the former king, the father of the current, his eyes were still sharp as blades. Lucivar caught the subtle shifting of feet, the way their eyes darted nervously, as though wondering whose side to choose. Fools. He would always be on his son’s side, and that was enough.
Lucivar strolled leisurely toward Councilman Richard, his chosen victim for conversation. Richard stood stiffly, his shoulders hunched in a way that made Lucivar want to knock them square. "Do you have any idea what all this is about?" Lucivar asked.
"Not one bit." Richard gave a stiff shrug, his mouth dry. "I know the king has a plan up his sleeves anyway."
Lucivar chuckled low, a deep rumble that made Richard flinch. "Of course he does. Dragos men are not without teeth. It’s the prey who tends to forget that." He clapped the man on the shoulder, then turned his gaze toward the estate’s iron gates where the sound of an approaching engine cut through the quiet.
Soon, Damien’s car pulled into the courtyard. The council shifted, murmurs rippling but silenced again under Lucivar’s sharp glance. The doors opened and Luna was the first to emerge. Some of the council members bowed their heads instinctively, others merely gawked. The queen’s presence was formidable, yes—but it was expected.
What came next was not.
The second door opened, and out stepped Morvakar. The courtyard seemed to inhale as one. The banished sorcerer, leaned against the car door for balance before straightening. Councilmen exchanged wide-eyed glances. The murmurs this time could not be contained, sharp whispers buzzing through the courtyard.
Even Lucivar, who had weathered decades of court politics and treachery, raised a brow at his son’s brazenness. A slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Well," he muttered under his breath, loud enough for Richard beside him to hear and swallow hard, "seems my boy inherited more of me than I thought." His eyes glittered. Trust remained, but now laced with the thrill of wondering just how far Damien intended to push the council before the night was over.
Everyone bowed as Damien drew closer, the courtyard falling into silence except for the scrape of boots on stone. Their tongues itched to speak, to question, to accuse, but not one dared break the hush his presence commanded. Power radiated from him. The councilmen averted their gazes, some out of respect, others out of fear.
Lucivar, however, ignored everything else. He moved through the sea of bowed heads and wide eyes. His eyes softened when they found Luna, standing poised and radiant. He reached for her and pulled her into an embrace, his strong arms briefly breaking the formality of the moment. She stiffened for the span of a heartbeat before yielding, her forehead resting against his chest. This wasn’t the place for questions about the heir, and Lucivar knew better than to demand answers here—but the look in her eyes, bright and burning, told him everything he needed to know. His grandson lived. That knowledge alone straightened his back, putting iron back into his bones.
"I’m sure you all have questions," Damien said, his gaze sweeping over the council. "I will answer them later. Right now, you are here to bear witness to what I will unearth here." He paused, letting the silence stretch, watching their discomfort. "Everyone was busy looking at the throne—evaluating our mistakes, questioning our motives. No one took a deeper look at the one person who wanted you to take down the throne. I do hope you have hidden him quite well."
A ripple of unease moved through the crowd. Eyes darted, breaths hitched. Lucivar’s smirk widened—his son had them right where he wanted them.