The heavy doors of the King's office swung open without a knock. Wren stepped through, his boots clicking against the polished stone floor, the long folds of his cloak sweeping behind him. His eyes, cold and unreadable, scanned the room, landing immediately on the man behind the ornate oak desk.
King Roan looked up from the parchment he'd been reading, his brow knitting. "Wren."
At once, as though sensing the weight in the air, Corvus, Roan's Beta, and Ewan, the sharp-eyed Gamma, rose from their chairs and slipped wordlessly out of the room. Neither man questioned the unspoken command. Wren did not wait to be invited to sit—he rarely did. Instead, he moved to the center of the room, standing like a blade ready to be drawn.
"What were you thinking?" Wren asked without preamble, his voice low but sharp as a whip crack.
Roan exhaled slowly and placed the parchment down. "You are going to have to be more specific. I do a lot of thinking, it is expected of me."
"The messenger from Alpha Yakim. You had him thrown into the dungeons."
Roan leaned back in his chair, expression hardening. "His appearance here was unacceptable. Came into my court with a message that my rule. I will tolerate that kind of disrespect and I will have to make an example of him."
"And you think that tossing him into a cell makes you look strong?" Wren asked, his tone barely concealing the edge of disbelief. "The people already see you as vulnerable. You mated with a wolfless girl, Roan. No matter how noble your intentions were, the court and the packs are whispering about your fitness for the throne."
Roan stood abruptly, the chair behind him scraping against the stone. "That wolfless girl was chosen to become my queen even before I was born, was I supposed to break the promise that had been made."
Wren's gaze did not waver. "But she never commanded respect, she had no power and was not fit to lead beside you. I warned you but you failed to listen and everything turned out like I predicted. And every decision you make from here will either cement your strength or unravel what little power you are clinging to."
Roan narrowed his eyes. "So what, I should have let that mutt insult me in my own court?"
"You should have handled it with subtlety," Wren replied coolly. "Send him back to Yakim with honeyed words and veiled threats. Make them wonder what you are planning. Fear isn't built with brute force alone."
Roan's jaw clenched. "You sound like Seren."
Wren smiled faintly. "I take that as a compliment. She is clever. Dangerous. And she still wants to ally with you. That is worth more than your pride, Roan."
Roan's hands curled into fists. "I am not going to align myself with that snake. She's—"
"She is powerful," Wren interrupted, stepping closer. "And right now, that's what you need at your side. Or have you forgotten what happened to your parents?"
Silence fell like a dropped curtain. Roan's breath caught, nostrils flaring slightly as the weight of old wounds pressed into the room.
"They did not listen to me either. They made enemies, ignored the shifting tides. You are not invincible, Roan. You are the king. That means that every mistake you make ripples across the realm and affects your people, you must never forget that."
Roan stared at the far wall, his jaw tightening as memories clawed at him. "You think I don't know that?"
"I think you forget," Wren said. "Because you want to believe the world is simpler than it is. It is not. There are teeth at your throat, and one wrong move will have you cut to the ground."
"Even if you will not consider Seren, you have to recognize the fact that you need a queen to banish the memory of Arin's betrayal." Wren continued, voice low. "You need to take a mate as soon as possible."
"Let me guess, you already have a lineup of suitable she wolves." Roan said drily.
Wren softened his voice and came closer to Roan, resting his hand on his shoulder. "All I do is to protect you, your father was like a brother to me and I…"
The door burst open abruptly, interrupting Wren who scowled.
A young soldier stumbled in, gasping for breath, his chest heaving as he bowed awkwardly. "Your Majesty—" he wheezed, "My lord—there is a situation—just beyond the outer wall."
Roan strode forward, his voice like iron. "Speak."
"A strange— illness has— been inflicted on some people."
"What do you mean a strange illness has been afflicted some people?" Roan demanded, stepping toward the panting messenger.
The young soldier swallowed hard, the color still drained from his face. "It is unlike any illness that we have seen before, Your Majesty. The werewolves… they went mad. First just one, then more. They turned on each other—biting, ripping—and the ones bitten went just as wild. Rabid. Like something poisoned their minds."
Roan froze. "Rabid?"
The messenger nodded, sweat trailing down his temple. "Yes, sire. They couldn't control themselves. Screaming, snarling. Some shifted halfway and got stuck between forms. Their eyes… they were red. Blood red."
Wren stiffened beside Roan.
"How many?" Roan asked, his voice grave.
"Too many, My Lord." the messenger answered, voice trembling. "The madness spreads fast. But then—it stops. After a few hours, they collapse. They convulse. And then they die."
Silence fell in the room, thick and terrible.
Roan's body moved before his mind caught up. He turned sharply, already walking toward the door, jaw set in grim determination.
"Wait." Wren's hand shot out, gripping his arm. "You can't walk out yet. We are not done with our conversation."
Roan stopped and without looking up he spoke. "Wren. Move."
"No." Wren's voice was calm but firm. "Not until you hear what I have to say."
Roan growled and turned to him, his eyes blazing gold. "We have werewolves dying just outside the city walls. This conversation can wait."
"It can't," Wren said, releasing Roan's arm slowly but deliberately. "Because this sickness, this madness—it's not a natural plague. And you know that."