“A prince is dead. My brother is dead,” I cut her off, the words sharper than intended. The image of Laziel’s mutilated body flashed behind my eyes.
“The accused will remain silent unless questioned directly,” Harrison interjected, following protocol. Rhea’s jaw clenched, but she obeyed.
Lucinda watched from the matriarch’s seat, her satisfaction poorly concealed behind mourning veils. She’d orchestrated this spectacle perfectly. Public trial, formal protocols, no room for private clemency. I recognized the political maneuvering even as I participated. Spare Rhea, and I’d appear weak, controlled by my omega. Condemn her, and I’d prove strength through sacrifice. The crown demanded terrible choices, my father had warned. He hadn’t expected the first to come so soon.
Neither had I.
“You took advantage of my heat response to claim a position you couldn’t earn through merit.” The words emerged like weapons, each one precisely aimed. Rhea flinched as if physically struck.“You manipulated the mate bond for power, and when my brother discovered your schemes, you silenced him.” The lie felt like swallowing glass, but the council nodded approvingly. This narrative they understood. Ambitious omega overreaching, alpha prince defending family honor, justice served through rejection.
The story wrote itself, really. An omega daughter of a political family, seeing opportunity in an unexpected heat. Seducing the new king, eliminating his competition, securing her position through physical means rather than worth. Never mind that I’d been the one to chase her, claim her, drag her to my bed. The truth didn’t serve the narrative, so the truth died here.
“You know that’s not true,” Rhea said, protocol be damned. Her voice carried across the hall, clear and accusing. Several council members shifted uncomfortably at the breach of procedure, but I raised a hand to prevent their intervention. Let her speak. Let her damn herself further with defiance.
“I know he was found in your room, torn apart by claws. I know you were the only omega in heat, the only one with strength enough to overpower an alpha in that state. What else matters beyond those facts?”
Forgive me, but the crown requires this sacrifice.The thought burned through me as I watched understanding dawn in her eyes. She’d expected me to investigate, to seek truth beyond convenient evidence. She’d expected her mate to protect her. Instead, she faced a king protecting his throne.
I’d been simply Damon three days ago, eldest son training for eventual rule. Now I was the king who’d missed his owncoronation for a mate, and everyone waited to see if I’d compound that weakness with mercy.
Every eye tracked my movement as I descended the steps, approaching the accused circle. The formal rejection required specific words, phrases designed to shatter mate bonds. I forced them past lips that remembered her taste.
“I, Damon Kildare, Lycan King of the Kildare pack and those packs loyal to our family, reject you, Rhea Thornback.” Each syllable burned my throat. “You are cast out, banished from our grounds. Any wolf associated with you will face punishment chosen by the council.” The bond snapped between us. Invisible to others, but evident to the two of us and our wolves. Pain exploded through my chest, white-hot agony of a soul tearing in half. I remained standing through will alone.
Rhea collapsed, her own agony visible in the way she clutched her chest. But she didn’t beg anymore. “You’re making a mistake,” she said, blood dripping from where she’d bitten through her lip. The accusation hung between us, heavy with possibilities I couldn’t afford to consider.
Not now. Not with the council watching. Not with my mother’s eyes boring into my back, measuring my resolve. The political cost of doubt would cripple my reign before it began. Later, perhaps, I could investigate her claims. After the blood cooled and grief settled into manageable portions. After I’d proven my strength through her sacrifice.
“You manipulated me. You cost me my brother. You’re no mate, you’re a curse,” I said, each word chosen for the audience rather than truth.
Physical rejection wasn’t enough for the crime of regicide. I extended my partially shifted hand, claws gleaming under ceremonial lights. The mark must be removed, the visible evidence of our bond erased. Rhea turned her neck, presenting the mating bite with defiance that made several alphas growl approval. Even facing destruction, she showed her strength. My claws sliced through the sacred mark, her blood painting my fingers. The scent nearly dropped me.
I forced my hand steady as I carved away the physical proof of our bond. Her blood ran hot over my fingers, each drop an accusation. The wound would scar badly without proper treatment, but scars were better than death. This much mercy I could grant without seeming weak. Let her live with the reminder of what we’d briefly been.
“One day you’ll know the truth, and it will destroy you,” Rhea promised, her voice carrying despite the pain. Blood ran down her neck, soaking into the overshirt they’d forced her into outside the gates. But her eyes remained clear, focused on mine with intensity that made several guards step closer.
“Furthermore, your family is banished to the outback territories, effective immediately.” The secondary punishment drew gasps. The outbacks meant slow death for anyone condemned. Magnus Thornback sagged in his seat while Neva keened softly. But I couldn’t show mercy without undermining the primary verdict.
“Any wolf found harboring you faces the same fate. You have until dawn to leave pack lands or face execution.” Guards moved to enforce the decree, dragging Rhea away while she maintained eye contact until the doors closed.
“Your father would be ashamed,” Magnus called out, his political training finally cracking. Twenty years of careful neutrality, destroyed by paternal fury. Guards moved to silence him, but I raised a hand. Let him speak his rage. Let everyone see the consequences of defying the crown.
“My father is dead, like my brother,” I replied, turning to face the man who’d served our family loyally for two decades. “And shame is a luxury kings can’t afford.”
What kind of king begins his reign with such brutality? The question echoed through me as I watched them drag the Thornback family away. Magnus walked with dignity despite his punishment, but Neva had to be supported between guards. Their daughter, my former mate, had already disappeared through the exit. Within hours, they’d be dumped at the territory border with nothing but the clothes on their backs.
The council dispersed slowly, members murmuring among themselves about the precedent set today. A king who could reject his mate publicly, who could banish loyal servants for their daughter’s crimes, who could choose crown over bond. They’d remember this when contemplating future challenges to my authority. The lesson had been learned, written in blood and broken bonds.
“You did well,” my mother said, materializing at my elbow as the hall emptied. Her mourning veils did nothing to hide the satisfaction in her voice. “Your father would be proud. Strength in the face of personal attachment, justice despite the cost. You’re truly his son.”
But I wasn’t, was I? Dominic Kildare would have investigated thoroughly, would have found truth beneath convenientevidence. He’d been ruthless when necessary but never cruel without purpose. This felt like cruelty, like sacrifice to politics rather than justice.
“Leave me,” I commanded, needing solitude to process what I’d done. She squeezed my arm, a rare gesture of maternal approval, then glided away to oversee the aftermath. Always managing, always maneuvering. I wondered if she’d sleep better tonight, knowing Laziel’s supposed killer had been punished.
Alone except for my mother’s satisfied smile, I felt the empty space where the bond lived like a missing limb, and wondered if I’d just made the greatest mistake of my reign.
9
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