Chapter 241

Behind Samuel, I see Caleb rise up from the ground. He heaves like it costs him great effort to do so, yet determination sparks like fire in his eyes. With clear exertion, he forces his massive werewolf body to take a step forward. And then another, approaching Samuel.

Samuel, who had shifted to human form in confidence, immediately transforms back to his wolf. The needle he had held, which he used to inject Caleb with whatever weakening substance that was, clatters onto the ground.

I knew he would cheat, but I didn’t suspect it would be quite so blatant, like he didn’t care if anyone saw. Maybe he even wanted them to. Was this to be some sort of intimidation tactic?

If it was, it’s not working.

The rowdy crowd, which had cheered for their fellow rebel and leader Samuel, grew quiet since the injection. Now, they almost seem in awe of Caleb and his strength, able to rise and continue fighting even under the clear constraints of the poison.

Even knowing Caleb, even being intimately aware of his strength, I’m still impressed by him, and I’m proud of him too.

He doesn’t know the meaning of backing down, and to protect me, he will push himself to any limits.

I know because I would do the same for him.

When he was on the ground and Samuel turned to face me, I was preparing myself to attack him. I’d claw his eyes out if I had to, but I would not be the meek subservient little wife he wanted me to be.

I would die before I could allow Samuel to take me and make me his.

Now, with Caleb’s intervention, that doesn’t seem necessary anymore.

Samuel must be afraid, seeing the clear show of Caleb’s will and strength. Yet, he must also be confident, because he lunges to tackle Caleb head-on.

Even weakened, Caleb swats at Samuel mid-lunge, slamming him down to the ground with his massive paw. Samuel immediately starts whimpering and struggles to rise. It seems as if one of his legs is broken.

My hope begins to soar. Everything is on the line in this challenge. If Caleb can win this, despite the weakness poison… If the weakness poison was the best that Samuel could do… If there are no other obstacles…

Maybe we can end this brewing war right here and now.

Caleb towers over Samuel, looking down at him, staring down the length of his wolfly maw. Though, transformed as he is, he cannot speak, Caleb’s intention is clear in his rigid posture and the low growl erupting from his throat.

Stay down.

Submit.

Samuel continues to struggle to stand – until he looks up and sees Caleb over him. Then, finally, he stops struggling and stays where he is, his belly in the dirt.

The watching rebels are stunned, even as relief floods inside of me. My first instinct is to break the ring and rush in to congratulate Caleb.

Yet, before I can take even one step, a strong arm grabs me around the waist, locking me in place a dagger comes up to my throat. I don’t know who is holding me, but I can guess when Gladys reveals herself beside me. It must be her butler holding the knife.

Glancing down, I can see that Tristan is face first in the dirt. Fear lurches up my throat.

Caleb growls fiercely as he steps closer, but Gladys stops him with a raised hand.

“Ah, ah,” she scolds. “It won’t be so very difficult to cut this human’s throat.” With a sigh, she adds, “Samuel continues to be a disappointment as ever. The only way to take care of things, per usual, is to see them done myself.”

Caleb, angry as he is, still manages to shift back to human form, likely so he can speak. With him as human, I can more easily see the toll that the weakness poison has taken on him.

His face is pale, his cheeks sallow. All of his limbs sag heavily, as if being dragged down toward the ground with more than just gravity. He seems to be giving great effort even to just keep his head upright.

“What do you want, Gladys?” he asks. There’s anger in his voice, but there’s also defeat. His eyes flick to me, showing concern within him, though the rest of his face remains hard and impassive.

It’s not fear for myself that I feel in this moment. Instead, I’m worried for him. If something happens to me, what would become of him? Would his paranoia finally take hold?

I would gladly give my life to save his, but it’s my death that might finally break him.

“Caleb…” I say in a breath.

He hears, his gaze softening ever so slightly. It hardens once more as Gladys starts to speak, reclaiming his attention.

“You know what I want,” Gladys says. “Give up the crown, and maybe… maybe… I will allow Harper to continue to live. You, however, Caleb, must give up your own life in her stead. I hope you understand. There will be no repeat of what’s happening here. You will not rally a cause to reclaim the throne yourself. It will be ours and remain ours.”

“My father’s, you mean,” Caleb says.

Gladys doesn’t say anything.

“That has been the plan all along, hasn’t it? To use the rebellion to forcibly remove me from the throne, just so you can return my father when Samuel’s weakness reveals itself,” Caleb says. “I imagine he is waiting in the wings somewhere, waiting for his time to return.”

“Your father is dead,” Gladys snaps. “That weakling came cowering back to me, expecting me to support him once again. I tire of living in the shadows, of being a tyrant king’s second wife. Your father was once a proud, strong king. So I killed him before the world could see the type of coward he became.”

Caleb gives no outward reaction to that. There was no lost love between his father and him, but the revelation is surprising. Gladys didn’t seem like the type who would want to murder her husband.

“Don’t underestimate me like he did,” Gladys says, and gestures to the butler, who presses the sharp edge of the blade a little closer to my throat. I lift my chin, trying to avoid it, but I still feel the prick as it scrapes lightly against my throat. A weakling human, I already begin to bleed, the hot liquid dripping a trail down my throat.

Caleb sees. He swallows hard.

“Your decision,” Gladys says. “Your crown or your consort.”

“She is not just my consort,” Caleb says fiercely. “She is my mate.”

“No matter,” Gladys says, dismissing him. “Make your choice.”

She might have dismissed his words with abandon, but the other rebels do not. A few nearby gasp. Even the butler holding me stiffens slightly.

To werewolves, mates are sacred. They are a rare gift given by the moon goddess, a bond that is stronger than any human oath.

To attack a werewolf’s mate to get to him is not just unpopular, in many areas it is a death-worthy offense.

For Gladys to stoop so low…

Perhaps her faithful rebels are seeing her in a new light.

Maybe that means there is hope for the kingdom yet. But whether that means there is hope for me, I am uncertain.

Gladys looks sharply at her butler. I imagine the order to kill me is on her lips.

Just as she opens her mouth, however, Caleb falls to his knees.

“Don’t.”