Chapter 202: We Cuddle With Mate. No.
The healer peeled back the blanket, touching Guinevere’s arm for her I.V.
Kael’s entire body snapped tight, eyes flashing gold, aggressively ignoring his dragon.
That man dares put his hands on our mate? BURN HIM. SLOWLY. THEN AGAIN.
When the healer left, he checked on her one more time. Cassian’s blood was already helping her. More color was coming back to her face.
He kissed her forehead on pure reflex, then realized what he was doing and jerked away like he was caught mid-crime.
His dragon rumbled, irritated.
We lay with her.
He let out a long breath. Fucking hell. When she woke, not touching her was going to be hard.
✦✦✦
Three seconds. That’s how long the peace lasted. Three seconds between closing her door and hearing the first sound of organizational collapse echoing up the stairwell. A new record for the worst goddamn Keep he’d ever set foot in.
By the time he reached the great hall, he’d counted fourteen problems.
Kael found Tyler Draven issuing orders to a group of sleep-deprived warriors. It was his first day on the job as Alpha and categorically a full-scale, five-alarm, what-the-fuck.
When Tyler saw him, he snapped to attention so hard his boots squeaked on the stone. "Sir."
Cute. The kid was shaking and saluted like he’d been practicing in a mirror. Kael ignored both things and went straight for the jugular.
"How many guards are on the princess’s tower?"
Color left Tyler’s face. Kael didn’t wait for him to answer.
"Two guards on her door. Right now," he ordered. "Two more at the base of the tower stairwell. Two at the midpoint. Rotating four-hour shifts. Nobody enters that tower without my authorization. Are those instructions clear?"
Tyler’s eyes went wide. "Yes, Sir."
Smart kid. Fast learner. Still an idiot, but a trainable one.
"Good. Those guards are late. Go."
Tyler went.
Was Kael being overprotective? Absolutely. So fucking what. The bar for acceptable was already six feet under and Kael had passed it on his way to hell.
✦✦✦
Tyler returned to the great hall at a jog, where Kael was already neck-deep in the next problem.
There were many next problems.
"Walk with me," Kael began. "We’re doing this once. I am leaving this Keep with her the second I can shift. When I leave, you need to be able to run this place without a dragon holding your hand. That means you learn fast or your pack dies slow. Clear?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Let’s start with the part where you rationed water to the eastern barracks but forgot that the infirmary shares the same supply line."
Tyler winced. "I thought the infirmary had its own—"
"It does not have its own. Your wounded fighters have been drinking from the same cistern your archers have been pissing next to for six hours because nobody moved the latrine station after you repositioned the eastern line."
"I... did not think about the latrine station."
"Nobody ever thinks about the latrine station. That’s why good commanders are paranoid about the latrine station. Move it downhill. Minimum fifty yards from any water source."
"Yes, sir."
"Who performed best during the first wave?" Kael asked. "Specifically. Name and action."
Tyler thought. "Gavyn Holt. He reorganized his squad mid-engagement when their formation broke. Redirected archers to cover the south flank without being told."
"That’s your field sergeant. Promote him. He’ll be loyal to you for life. Delegate tasks to him on mindlink as we go."
Tyler nodded, absorbing every word.
"New leadership will be tested in any kingdom. Not just here," Kael continued. "That means you are thorough. Send runners for visual confirmation on top of mindlinks. When we finish, you do a round yourself. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
Tyler got runners fast. Kael noticed. The kid was eager, a little desperate, and responded well to being told exactly what to do. Good. Kael wasn’t running a daycare.
They walked through the Keep at a pace that was partially strategic and partially because Kael’s ribs were informing him that standing still hurt worse than moving.
The tour revealed horrors.
The armory was unlocked. Kael locked it and assigned a quartermaster.
The food stores were being accessed by anyone who walked past. Kael assigned a rotation and a log.
Three corridors had been barricaded with furniture that would do absolutely nothing against dark fae. Kael ordered proper timber reinforcements and tar barriers.
The south gate was held by four men. Four. Men. For a gate that was twelve feet wide.
"How many wolves does it take to hold a twelve-foot gate, Tyler?"
"Four?"
"Twelve. Four up front, four in reserve behind them, four rotating off rest. Your current four have been standing for nine hours straight. Exhausted soldiers are decorative. Decorate with something else."
Tyler mindlinked the orders before Kael finished the sentence. Fast learner. The Keep was still a disaster, but at least the disaster had an intern now.
Unfortunately, the gate wasn’t the worst of it. Not even top five.
What Kael found at the eastern wall almost made him turn around, walk back upstairs, climb into bed, and let this whole goddamn Keep sort itself out.
Warriors were stacked like firewood, monitoring an aggressively peaceful treeline.
Kael pinched the bridge of his nose. "How many?"
"Hundred and sixty."
"Hundred and sixty men watching trees. Meanwhile four guys at the south gate, zero interior patrol, no quartermaster, open armory, and a contaminated water supply. This is what happens when you react to the last attack instead of preparing for the next one."
Tyler absorbed that like a punch he deserved.
"Pull eighty off this wall. Redistribute: twelve to the south gate, twelve to the north, twelve to the west, twenty on interior rotations, and twenty-four in reserve, positioned centrally. Not at a gate. Not at a wall. Central. Where they can move in any direction. The remaining eighty stay here. Stagger them. I want overlapping sight lines, nobody standing shoulder to shoulder."
"Repeat it back."
Tyler repeated it back word for word. Kael raised an eyebrow.
"You have good ears."
"My father made me recite patrol routes until I could say them backwards."
"Your father is smarter than everyone in this Keep combined. When this is over, tell him I said that."
They turned a corner and found two warriors playing dice against a supply crate.
Kael stopped. Waited.
Tyler looked at the warriors. The warriors looked up. The dice stopped mid-roll.
The silence was educational.
"Sentry rotation. West wall. Now," Tyler ordered, his voice carrying the specific authority of a man who had just been embarrassed in front of the scariest person he’d ever met.
The warriors scrambled so fast one of them left a boot behind. An actual boot. On the floor.
Kael stared at it. He’d seen men leave behind swords. Shields. Never a boot.
"You’re going to fuck up today. That’s expected," Kael continued. "What I don’t expect is to correct the same one more than once. If I walk back in here and find the same mistakes, I will take it as a personal insult. You’ve seen me pleasant. You’ve seen the alternative. Pick."
Tyler stood straighter. "Yes, Sir."
"Last thing. The crybaby in the dungeon gets fed. She might need more of his blood. If he mouths off to the guards, they ignore it. If he tries to escape, they report to you. If he touches a guard, they report to me. I am going back to her tower now. Do not bother me unless something is actively on fire or actively dying."
"What if both?"
Kael paused at the doorway. He almost smiled.
"Then lead with whichever one you think I’ll care about more."
He climbed the tower stairs, passed six guards who had excellent posture and excellent fear in their eyes, and re-entered Guinevere’s chambers.
She was still asleep.
He dropped into the white chair beside her bed, kicked his feet up on the white ottoman, and closed his eyes.
His dragon settled.
We cuddle with mate.
"Act like a damn dragon," Kael snapped.