Bound By Blood And Fire

Freya's pov.

The feast transitioned into the strategy hall, a space grand in its own right, lined with high wooden beams and a long obsidian table. The air smelled of burning wood and rich wine, a stark contrast to the tension hanging thick in the room. I followed behind King Maximilian and Alpha Alaric, carrying a tray of fine goblets alongside another servant, my fingers trembling as I tried to steady the weight.

The men took their seats, their conversation hushed at first, but it didn't take long for Maximilian to speak.

"The hunters," he said, his voice deep and authoritative, "have grown bolder. In the last three months, they've pushed deeper into our territories, striking our kind down without hesitation."

Alaric nodded, his face grim. "They aren't just hunting anymore. They're searching for something."

Maximilian's gaze sharpened. "Tiberius. Ronan's son."

A hushed silence filled the room, the name itself carrying weight. Even I had heard of Ronan, the hunter who had once negotiated the fragile truce between our kind and theirs. That truce had held for years, until now.

Dorian leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the armrest. "So the bastard child has come to claim his father's failed legacy?"

Maximilian's eyes darkened. "No, he is not his father. Ronan at least understood restraint. Tiberius does not. He seeks something more."

Selene, who had managed to slither into the room and situate herself beside Dorian, feigned concern. "What could they possibly be looking for?" she mused, her fingers brushing against Dorian's forearm.

His lip curled in mild amusement, but he didn't look at her. Instead, his gaze flickered toward me.

"The question is not what, but who," Maximilian corrected. "They are targeting bloodlines."

I shifted slightly, but even that small movement sent pain lancing up my spine. The effect of the healing salve had begun to wear off, leaving my body raw with agony. My hands shook slightly as I poured wine into Maximilian's goblet, hoping no one would notice.

But of course, Dorian did.

His eyes flickered with something unreadable before a slow smirk spread across his lips.

"Having trouble, Freya?" he asked, loud enough for the room to hear.

I froze, my fingers tightening around the pitcher. "No, my Prince."

"Really?" He tilted his head, his voice mockingly curious. "Because it looks like you're about to collapse."

Selene giggled softly, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "She does seem rather frail, doesn't she?"

Maximilian ignored the petty exchange, his focus on Alaric. "We need to prepare. The hunters are no longer just exterminators. They are soldiers. And if we do not act, they will force us into a war."

Dorian barely seemed to be listening anymore. His attention was solely on me.

I moved to refill his goblet next, but as I reached forward, my knees buckled slightly. The pain was unbearable, sharp and unrelenting. I let out a sharp gasp before I could stop myself.

Dorian's hand shot out, catching my wrist in an iron grip.

The room went still.

I swallowed hard, refusing to let the pain show, refusing to meet his gaze.

"You should be more careful," he murmured, though there was no kindness in his voice. "I'd hate for you to make a mess."

I gritted my teeth. "Yes, my Prince."

But he didn't let go. Instead, his grip tightened.

"You're in no condition to be here," he mused, tilting his head. "Yet, here you are. Why is that?"

"Because she has no choice," Theon's voice cut through the tension.

Dorian's eyes flicked toward him, amused. "Oh?"

"She's already suffered enough today," Theon said, his voice tense. "You don't have to make it worse."

A beat of silence passed before Dorian's expression darkened, amusement fading into something far more dangerous. "Are you telling me what to do?"

Before Theon could respond, Seraphina's voice sliced through the air. "Enough, Theon."

Theon stiffened as his mother's icy gaze settled on him. "You will not embarrass us in front of the King and his son."

Dorian chuckled, finally releasing my wrist. "See? Even your own mother knows your place."

I took a slow, steady breath, willing the pain away. But Dorian wasn't done.

"Perhaps Freya should be grateful," he continued, sipping from his goblet. "After all, she's getting quite the attention tonight."

Selene leaned in closer. "Maybe she enjoys it," she purred.

I wanted to slap the smirk off her face.

Dorian leaned forward, his voice barely above a whisper, but everyone could hear him. "Do you, Freya?"

I met his gaze, refusing to break. "No, my Prince."

His smirk returned. "Pity."

Maximilian, clearly done with the distractions, cleared his throat. "Enough. We have matters to discuss."

Dorian leaned back, but the gleam in his eye told me that he was far from finished with me.

As I stepped back, Theon caught my gaze briefly, his expression tight with frustration.

Dorian noticed that too.

And judging by the wicked gleam in his eyes, he was enjoying every second of it.