“There is one more thing,” she said, one hand resting lightly against her lower stomach, “I am pregnant.” The words hung in the air like a blade.
Malachi turned fully around, the letter still clenched in one hand, and stared at her.
For a moment the only sound in the room was the low hum of the air system and the distant noise of the keep outside the windows.
“Remove it.” He instructed immediately, his eyes hard as he gazed at her, nose flaring, the veins I’m his hand bulging from how hard he clenched it.
Mira’s eyes widened.
The post-coital softness vanished from her face.
“What?” “You heard me.” Malachi’s voice stayed flat, stripped of every trace of the heat that had filled the room only minutes earlier.
“I want that bastard gone.
Whatever you need to drink, whatever the old women in the lower halls still know how to mix, you will take it.
Today.” She pushed herself up on the bed, the ruined red lace slipping further down her body.
“Malachi, please.
You cannot mean that.
This child is yours.
It is the heir your stepmother already announced to the entire table.
You cannot simply order it out of existence.” “I can and I am.” He took a step closer, towering over the bed.
“You are lying.
Or you are mistaken.
I used a condom every single time.
There is no child.
There cannot be, you’re trying to trap me into this, but you’re not so wise Mira, you never have been.
Mira shook her head quickly, her eyes becoming misty one hand still pressed to her stomach as if she could protect what she claimed was there.
“There were times you did not.
You know there were.
Nights when you came to me already angry, already beside yourself with need, and you did not stop long enough to reach for the drawer.
You buried yourself inside me with nothing between us and you finished there.
Do not pretend those nights did not happen.” “Enough.” The word cracked through the room.
Malachi’s wolf surged under his skin, agitated by the claim, by the letter still in his hand, by the southern girl lying awake in the medical wing with a legacy her mother had finally put into words.
“You will not use a convenient story to climb higher in this keep.
You are a body I used.
Nothing more.
If you are truly carrying anything, you will end it before the sun sets.
If you refuse, I will have the medics do it for you.
Am I understood?” Mira’s face crumpled.
She slid off the bed and crossed the floor toward him on bare feet, the bandage on her shoulder stark against her skin.
“Please.
Do not do this.
I have been loyal.
I have taken every place you gave me without complaint.
This child could secure everything.
Your stepmother already believes it.
The lords heard her.
If you force me to remove it now the entire pack will know you rejected what they already accepted as the future.” “I do not care what the pack believes.” Malachi looked down at her without softening.
“I care about control.
A child with you creates a claim I never agreed to.
End it.
Or I will end it for you.” Tears gathered in Mira’s eyes but she did not step back.
She reached for his arm and he shook her off with a single sharp motion.
The rejection landed harder than any raised voice.
She stood there in the middle of the room, half-dressed and trembling, while Malachi turned toward the door again with the letter still in his fist.
Before he could leave, a sharp knock cut through the tension.
One of the foot soldiers stood in the open doorway, eyes carefully lowered, the posture of a man who knew he had interrupted something.
“My king.
Forgive the intrusion.
We have information on Gerald.” Malachi’s attention snapped fully to the soldier.
“Speak.” “He was seen in the South, my king.
Near the old border settlements that still answer to Lauretta’s former pack.
Our scouts believe he is hiding there.
They think the southern pack may be sheltering him deliberately”.
” How sure are you of this information ” Malachi asked, because if this was true the consequences would be severe and it was important he as king got his facts right, nooone respected a precocious leader.
The words settled over Malachi like a second skin of ice.
He stood in the corridor with the letter from Lauretta’s mother still crushed in one fist and Mira’s broken breathing still echoing faintly from the room he had just left.
For a moment he said nothing.
The soldier remained on one knee, eyes fixed on the floor, waiting.
Gerald in the South.
Gerald sheltered by the very pack that had produced Lauretta.
The same girl whose possible involvement the scouts now whispered about.
Malachi felt his wolf surge so hard he had to lock his jaw to keep the shift from ripping through him in the middle of the hallway.
“Get up,” he said.
The soldier rose at once.
Malachi’s mind moved quickly, coldly, stacking the pieces.
Mira’s claim of pregnancy.
The letter that suggested Lauretta was more than a treaty bride.
Gerald’s betrayal.
And now the South openly or quietly giving that traitor shelter.
If Lauretta’s people were protecting Gerald, then the treaty itself was already compromised.
If Lauretta knew, or if her mother had arranged it, then every soft look and stubborn silence the southern girl had given him since her arrival took on a different shape.
He would not allow it.
“Listen carefully,” Malachi said, voice low and precise.
“I want Lauretta’s mother brought to this palace under arrest.
I want the man who called himself her boyfriend brought with her.
The one she used to be with before she was bound to me, I want them both in chains if necessary.
I want them here before the sun sets tomorrow.
If the northern pack resists, you are authorized to use force.
If anyone questions the order, you tell them it comes directly from the King of the North.
Am I understood?” “Yes, my king.” “Take as many men as you need.
I want this done quietly enough that the North does not have time to hide them, but thoroughly enough that there is no chance of failure.
Bring them to the lower cells first.
I will decide what happens after I have spoken with them.” The soldier bowed and left at a run.
Malachi remained where he stood for several more seconds, the letter still heavy in his hand.
He turned and walked toward his office, every step measured.
Servants pressed themselves against the walls as he passed.
None of them dared meet his eyes.