Chapter 191: Crayon At A Goddamn Sword Fight
Two men stared at each other in a standoff while an entire pack watched. One was a dragon who had killed three men tonight. One was a Beta’s son in pajama pants who had watched this princess get beaten and decided that death was an acceptable alternative to letting it happen again. This was going to be a problem.
A problem Kael solved in under a second. Tyler blinked and his arms were empty. The dragon had her. The argument was over.
Fresh blood dripped onto Kael’s arms. His eyes darkened, looking down at her. Then he pushed gold flame into her. His reserves were almost gone, torn between two jobs: warming the woman in his arms and burning anyone stupid enough to approach.
The violent shivering eased by a fraction. Color returned to her lips, blue retreating to something closer to living. The glowing runes on her skin dimmed as his body pulled excess light from her, painfully slow but it was better than nothing.
"How do you communicate with other packs?" Kael asked, not looking away from Guinevere. "You must have some kind of relay system."
"Ravens, sir."
Kael’s head snapped up.
"Ravens," he repeated.
"Yes. Trained ravens can reach Shadowfell territory in a day."
"A day."
"Weather permitting."
"Right. Ravens. We have no portal or backup while Dark Fae attack. Wonderful." He let out a sigh of acceptance that today had been a complete shitshow, which was saying something considering he died the day prior. "What about wards? Protective barriers around the Keep? Magical fortification of any kind?"
"What is a ward?"
"What is a— okay. Okay. We’re here. This is where we are. You don’t know what a ward is. Fan-fucking-tastic."
"We have walls, if that’s what you’re referring to."
Tyler said ’walls’ with the confidence of a man presenting his strongest card. Kael received it with the enthusiasm of a man being handed a crayon at a sword fight.
"You know what else had walls? Every city that’s ever been destroyed. What is the most secure room in this goddamn Keep? One entrance. Stone."
Tyler’s face suggested he had never thought about walls in that context before, but he would be moving forward. "The princess’s chambers in the east tower. One stairwell, one door, stone walls three feet thick. It was designed that way on purpose."
"That’s not stupid. By whom?"
"The Alpha."
Kael filed that away. A man who sold his daughter had also built her a fortress. The contradiction was too Renwick to unpack right now.
"Are you Draven’s son?"
Tyler’s jaw shifted. "You know my father?"
"Yeah. I had drinks with him and Renwick last night," Kael replied impatiently.
Tyler processed that. The dragon who had just snapped three necks and melted a prince’s face had been having drinks with his father last night. Like a person. At a table. Socializing. The what-the-fuck of that was staggering.
"So let me see if I’ve got this right," Kael continued. "The Alpha’s son just beat a foreign king’s wife in front of witnesses and got his face melted for it. The Beta is acting second when the Alpha is gone. Cry-baby is out. You’re the Beta’s son." He gestured at the room. "So you’re in charge now, yeah? That’s how this works? Musical chairs but with fur?"
Tyler opened his mouth but no words came.
"Tyler. Focus. Yes or no. You’ve got three seconds."
"Yes, Sir."
"Congratulations. Try not to piss yourself like your puddle prince predecessor."
From the floor, the predecessor objected.
"I’M NOT OUT, YOU FUCKING DRAGON! THIS IS MY KEEP! MY FATHER’S KEEP! I AM THE ALPHA’S SON AND YOU ARE A FOREIGN—"
Kael rolled his eyes. He shifted Guinevere to one arm and raised his palm lazily.
Cassian flinched with a loud squeal, curling into a ball. Every warrior there would carry that sound to their graves. Some would hear it in quiet moments. During meals. At weddings. During sex.
Kael turned back to Tyler. "Have your men cuff him in silver and put him in whatever dungeon he was keeping her in. I won’t kill him yet. Don’t do that, and I will kill him. Those are the only two options."
Tyler looked at Cassian on the floor. Looked at the elders along the wall. Looked at the warriors. Every face in that room was running the same calculation: do I follow the wolf prince who pissed himself, or the dragon who can melt my face?
"Tick. Tock."
Tyler didn’t need to be told twice.
"Silver cuffs. Dungeon," he ordered two guards.
Both looked like they had drawn the short end of the stick because they were the unlucky fucks who were putting the Alpha’s son in a dungeon.
Neither moved.
The hesitation lasted one second longer than Kael’s patience. He raised his hand and let flame fly at Cassian.
The prince rolled out of the way.
"YOU MISSED!" he screamed from the floor, which was either the bravest or dumbest fucking thing he’d said all night.
Every elder in the room exhaled through their nose simultaneously. The collective energy was ’please shut the fuck up, Cassian.’
Kael didn’t look at him when he spoke. "I didn’t miss, dipshit. Put those goddamn silver cuffs on now."
Cassian scrambled off the floor in a panic. It took him three seconds to cuff himself. Gold star for the speedy self-arrest.
Kael tipped his chin up at the two guards. One look was all they needed to grab Cassian’s arms.
"Oh, and if you try anything, all three of you will burn alive," Kael added.
"Yes, Sir," they said in unison. Cassian was through the doors before he could open his mouth again, which was a gift to everyone in the room.
The doors closed behind them. The throne room exhaled. Two hundred wolves, twelve elders, one shirtless Beta’s son, and one dragon holding a princess stood in a room with three dead bodies and a wet spot on the floor.
The silence lasted four seconds before Tyler broke it.
"The dragon gave us the playbook. Seal the doors, funnel the corridors, steel to the throat, and don’t drink the blood. It’s not complicated. Go."