Chapter 6: The King’s Bait

The rest of the dinner was a blur of expensive steak and thinly veiled threats. Kaelen barely spoke, but his presence was a physical weight, pressing down on the table like a lead blanket. Every time I reached for my water, I felt his gaze—heavy, dark, and impossibly sharp. *Stop playing with your fork,* I told myself, *you look like a nervous wreck.* Ezra, still sore from the King’s jab at his father, decided I was the safest target for his lingering spite. "So, Elian," he sneered, leaning over his plate, "I hear your pack is having 'trouble' with their latest weapon shipments. Or is that just a rumor?" The table went silent again. Sebastian bristled, his hands clenching into fists under the table. He was ready to start a fight, which was exactly what Ezra wanted. I didn't blink. I took a slow, calculated sip of my water. "It’s not a rumor, Ezra," I said, my voice dripping with casual boredom. "It’s a clerical error. You know how it is—shipping manifests, customs, paperwork. Boring human stuff. Probably wouldn't make sense to a wolf who thinks the height of administrative skill is marking his territory on a fence post." A few of the younger guests snorted into their napkins. Ezra’s face flushed a deep, ugly red, and he stood up, his chair screeching against the floor like a dying animal. "You little piece of—" "Sit down, Ezra." The command wasn't a roar. It was a whisper. But it came from Kaelen. The King hadn't even looked up from his wine, but the air in the room instantly dropped twenty degrees. Ezra didn't just sit; he practically collapsed back into his chair, his bravado vanishing like smoke in a gale. Kaelen finally lifted his head, his eyes locking onto mine. He wasn't looking at me like an outcast anymore. He was looking at me like a puzzle he was dying to solve. "Clerical errors," Kaelen mused, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face. "You seem to know an awful lot about the pack’s logistics, Elian. Most ‘defectives’ in your position don't even know where the den's supply closet is." "I like to read," I said, meeting his stare without flinching. "It keeps me from going crazy." "Does it?" Kaelen stood up, his massive frame casting a shadow that swallowed the entire table. "The summit starts tomorrow, Elian. I suggest you keep that sharp tongue of yours honed. I have a feeling the next three days are going to be... enlightening." He walked past me, his shoulder brushing mine—a deliberate, territorial touch that made my heart hammer against my ribs. As he left the room, the scent of cedar and ozone trailed behind him, suffocating and impossible to ignore. "You are such an idiot," Lily whispered, her face pale as a sheet. "You just taunted the King’s dinner guest, and then you played smart with the King himself. Do you have a death wish?" "I’m not dying," I said, though my hands were shaking so hard I had to shove them under the table. "I’m just making myself too interesting to kill." *And that,* I realized, watching the doors close behind the King, *is the only way to survive.*