Chapter 298: He Will Be Gone Soon
"Be calm," he replied. "He will be gone soon." He leaned against the doorframe.
Isolde’s eyes burned as she advanced toward him, her words spitting fire. "Today is the closest I have gotten to the king since he marked me. And the fool ruined it!" The bitterness in her tone was desperation. The king was hers, stolen by that wretched queen. Every lost opportunity tightened the noose around her ambitions.
But William doubted it had anything to do with Talon at all. Damien was king. King. He could command Talon to vanish. No, the bitter truth was far simpler: Damien himself was resisting her. William could see it as plainly as the flicker of hunger in Isolde’s eyes. The king might be bound to her flesh by a mark, but his will, his every stubborn choice was tied irrevocably to another.
In his mind, he entertained the thought that Damien could have an entire harem if he desired, a hundred concubines spread across the palaces of Blood City. No one would dare stop him. Yet the man remained tethered to one woman, one queen who by all accounts should have been broken by now. A foreigner, an outsider, a stranger in their world — and yet she clutched him so tightly that not even destiny’s cruel tricks could pry him away.
The king himself was fighting the mate bond — the strongest pull in their world — and somehow, against all odds, he was winning. William’s intrigue deepened with every observation. What was it about Luna? What hidden spell, what buried power, what quality in her veins or her soul made a king, a beast in his own right — stay chained by choice when every other chain screamed to break him free?
His eyes lingered on Isolde, still hissing and pacing. She was beautiful, yes. Clever, yes. Manipulative, certainly. But she lacked whatever it was Luna carried. The more William thought of it, the more he knew: if he wanted his revenge, it was not Isolde he needed to understand.
It was the queen.
And oh, what a dangerous, delicious puzzle she was.
He turned to Isolde finally, his eyes gleaming. "Talon is quite instrumental to our plans. Now, everyone has seen him here, around you. Everyone knows he works for the queen. Once the council confirms your pregnancy, we will get to work."
Pregnancy—her weapon, her ticket to power, her crown all at once.
"How did you do it? How is it you did it to ensure I would carry a child for the king?"
William’s smile was slow, serpentine. "Let’s just say, I learnt from the best."
*****
Kyllian aided Mabel to take her first walk around the castle grounds. The gardens smelled faintly of roses and wet earth, the air cool against Mabel’s pale skin. Her steps were hesitant, each one a soft echo of her fragility. Kyllian held her elbow firmly, his instincts too sharp to let her stumble.
"I...I want to thank you again, Your Highness, for saving me. Even though I have caused more problems."
"Never mind," he said, shrugging. "Our relationship with Blood City was always fraught with problems anyway."
Her lips quirked upward. She slowed, her gaze turning sly, calculating in a way he hadn’t expected from her fragile posture. "Must be hard... seeing the princess with him."
Slowly, he turned his head, brow lifting. "How do you know about that?"
Mabel chuckled. "We get the news at our little pack too," she said. "It was juicy gossip for a while." Her eyes flicked up at him, curious, mischievous.
Kyllian’s lips curved wryly. "Ah... I guess it was," he admitted. "Finding out at the altar your bride-to-be and mate is mated to a vampire can be a good topic in bars and hair salons." The way he said it was a masterstroke of restraint.
"We didn’t know she was your mate. Maybe I should stoke the gossip fire with that."
"Don’t you dare," Kyllian said.
Mabel stopped in her tracks, her eyes drinking him in. "When we hear about Alpha King Kyllian," she murmured, "we get the impression that you are this untouchable ruler that never smiles."
"I didn’t smile for a long time," he admitted.
Mabel dropped her head.
"Can I ask you a personal question?"
"Of course, Your Highness." She knew what was coming.
"Who is responsible for your pregnancy?"
Mabel turned her face away, as if the rose bushes could shield her from his scrutiny. Her throat tightened, her palms dampened, and shame coiled hot and choking in her chest. "I...I had a brief fling with our pack alpha," she confessed.
Her heart thudded as she braced for his reaction. What she did not expect was the way his eyes softened for the briefest second.
"Fling, uhn? So he doesn’t know about the child?"
Mabel swallowed, her lips trembling. "He does," she admitted. "Which is why he was leading the charge to have me executed on charges of being a witch." Her eyes darted away, shame flushing her cheeks. To be hunted by the very alpha she once gave herself to—it was an irony so cruel, it burned.
Kyllian raised a brow, his mouth twisting in a humorless smile. "Didn’t know there are still backward packs in my territory," he mused.
"He is a good alpha," Mabel whispered, trying to defend him even now. "He would just prefer to be with someone with a much higher standing, not me." The self-deprecation in her voice was worse than tears.
"I should look into the Golden Race Pack then."
"No, Your Highness. Please." Mabel’s hand darted out, desperate, her fingers brushing the sleeve of his shirt. "I just want to have the baby. If you can... have me until the child is born, I will be out of your hair and we will go some place else."
Kyllian looked down at her hand against his sleeve, the fragile grip of a woman clutching at survival. He did not move. "You know I cannot let you out of my sight," he said finally. "The child you carry is quite literally the Moon Goddess. You are stuck with me."