“I do not like this, Evander,” Kyllian said.
Evander smiled faintly.
“You have mentioned that. I need to do this.”
At last, Kyllian sighed in defeat.
“Alright then. If your father murders me, my blood is on your hands.”
Evander laughed.
“I will send flowers to the queen.”
Kyllian shook his head.
“Come, get some rest. The troop leaves tomorrow. Your men will be moved to the barracks.” He turned to the guards around them.
“Can someone get me Gamma Garrick quickly?”
One of the guards bowed and hurried out.
Evander pushed his brother’s wheelchair forward, the wheels whispering as they left the courtyard.
“is Erin asleep?” Magnus asked.
“I will confirm that,” Kyllian said after a moment.
“But you can have breakfast with her tomorrow. I will have it arranged.”
Magnus gave a small smile.
Evander did not smile.
He walked behind his brother’s wheelchair with both hands resting lightly on the handles.
Beneath his demeanour, irritation simmered.
He did not appreciate the way Erin had been treating Magnus for the past few years.
Not one damn bit.
Evander pursed his lips, willing himself not to say anything as they entered deeper into the werewolf palace.
Magnus’s head turned slightly as they passed a wide staircase leading toward the family wing.
“Can we get a room next to hers?” Magnus asked the king.
Kyllian stopped walking.
The werewolf king turned slowly, one brow raised.
Magnus seemed to realise how that sounded a second too late.
“Her heartbeat calms me,” he clarified quickly, noting the way Kyllian’s shoulders had tensed.
Kyllian exhaled and nodded.
He understood it.
Wolves knew something about a mate’s breath.
The heartbeat of someone you feared losing.
“You damn vampires and your ridiculous hearing.” he muttered.
“I could say the same of werewolves’ sense of smell,” Magnus said.
Kyllian gave him a flat look over his shoulder.
“You inherited your mother’s sense of smell. You do not get to say anything about it.”
*****
Garrick arrived at the palace not long after the war council began.
By then, the private war room was already alive.
Maps were placed on the black glass table and border reports of where the dragonians had pushed too close to werewolf territory.
The fight was against the dragonians this time.
Kyllian had been holding enemies off for years.
Twenty years, to be exact.
Twenty years of wars.
He was older now.
His people—no longer wanted him riding out to war.
Not until Crown Princess Lyra married and had an alpha standing beside her.
“The dragonians have air advantage,” Garrick said.
“We have our wolves,” the king said.
“We need to trust our soldiers’ abilities. Now that the vampires are fighting with us, I believe we can end this.” He touched the map and began explaining the plan.
Garrick listened closely.
Evander listened too, one hand resting at the back of Magnus’ wheelchair.
Magnus, however, was distracted.
It was Garrick’s scent.
There was something familiar threaded through it.
His fingers tightened slightly over the armrest.
He tried to focus.
He truly did.
He was a prince of Blood City.
This was war.
People were dying.
The kingdom needed strategy.
But goddess, Garrick’s scent was annoying.
Offensive, even.
Why did the man have to stand so close?
“Magnus, what do you think?” Evander asked.
Magnus blinked, pulled from his spiralling thoughts.
The room was looking at him now.
Wonderful.
Nothing improved a man’s dignity quite like being caught mentally murdering a soldier.
He shook his head once and forced his attention to the maps.
The battlefield unfolded before him in layers: terrain, altitude, timing.
The dragonians were powerful.
They would expect the werewolves to look up.
So Magnus looked behind.
“I think we shouldn’t show our hand too soon,” he said.
“The werewolves own this war. The vampires should stand back, and when the dragonians are completely too confident, Evander, you and your team attack from behind them here, throw them off guard.”
“You’re right,” Evander said, studying the map.
He leaned forward, black coat shifting around him.
“We ride out tomorrow night.” He looked every inch the king of Blood City.
Cold.
Young.
Dangerous.
“We keep them from crossing the boundary, Garrick. Whatever happens, they cannot cross the boundary.”
Garrick straightened.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Magnus’ eyes flicked to him again.
Kyllian turned to Garrick.
“Have your men rest well. Settle the vampire soldiers in the barracks. And brief your commander when he comes back tomorrow morning.”
Garrick gave a sharp nod.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“He isn’t the commander?” Magnus asked.
Kyllian glanced at him.
“No. I gave the mated men the night off to be with their mates. We do not know how many will come back. Let them have tonight.”
Magnus looked at Garrick suspiciously once more.
He could not help it.
The soldier bowed and left the war room.
“You boys get some rest,” Kyllian said.
Evander nodded.
“Good night, Uncle.”
Kyllian grunted.
Evander took hold of Magnus’ wheelchair and pushed him out of the war room.
By the time they reached the suite assigned to them, the quiet was more peaceful.
The room was large, dark wood floors, glass walls, thick curtains, and a wide bed.
Evander helped him from the wheelchair, moved him to the bed, adjusted his legs, and pretended not to notice the way Magnus’ jaw tightened with humiliation.
“You don’t have to babysit me, Evander,” Magnus said, leaning back against the pillows.
“You can go to your room.”
Evander shrugged out of his coat.
“I’m not babysitting you. I just don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“I’m not your mate,” Magnus said.
“Well, she is in Blood City. You’re stuck with me.” Evander chuckled.
“If you’re going to stay, then be quiet,” Magnus said.
“I chose this room because I need to listen.”
Evander paused halfway through removing his boots.
He slowly turned his head.
“You do realise how unsettling that sounds, don’t you?”
“Be quiet.”
The king of Blood City dropped onto the other side of the bed.
The mattress dipped under his weight.
“This is a large room,” Magnus said.