Chapter 68
The palace had grown louder over the past eight months, but not in the way it once had. There was no music drifting through the halls, no laughter echoing from distant chambers, no sense of ease that once defined royal life. Every sound now carried urgency—boots against polished floors, hushed reports exchanged in corners, doors opening and closing with purpose.
War had changed the palace.
But for those seated at the very top, it had done something worse.
It had taken certainty and replaced it with something far more difficult to endure.
Not knowing.
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The Queen sat at the head of the royal chamber, her posture as composed as ever, her expression controlled, unreadable to anyone who did not know her well. But beneath that stillness was something sharper than fear.
It was anticipation.
And it had not left her for months.
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"They have confirmed the location," one of the royal advisors said carefully, his voice echoing slightly in the large chamber.
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The Queen did not respond immediately. Her fingers rested lightly against the arm of her throne, unmoving, as if she were weighing not just the information, but everything it could mean.
"Speak clearly," she said at last.
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The advisor straightened. "The werewolves have gathered in a central settlement beyond the eastern forest. Hidden, but not unreachable. Our forces are prepared to strike."
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A quiet shift passed through the room.
This was it.
The moment they had been working toward.
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Zack stood not far from the throne, his presence calm, controlled, detached in a way that made him seem almost unaffected by the tension filling the room. But those who knew him understood better.
Zack did not show emotion.
He acted on results.
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"And you are certain?" the Queen asked, her gaze now fixed on him.
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Zack met her eyes without hesitation. "As certain as we can be without standing inside it ourselves."
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"That is not enough," one of the elders spoke sharply. "We cannot risk walking into a trap."
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Zack turned slightly toward him. "It is already a trap. The only question is whether we spring it first."
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Silence followed.
Because that was the truth no one wanted to say out loud.
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At the far side of the room, two figures stood apart from the others.
Zack.
And beside him—
The parents of the seventh prince.
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Alvira stood with her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her usual elegance strained by something deeper, something far more personal than war strategy. Her eyes had not softened in months, not since the day her son disappeared without a trace.
Beside her, Zack—Kael's father—stood still, his expression unreadable, his presence cold in a way that made even the strongest warriors keep their distance.
He had not reacted when the news first came.
He had not spoken of it.
He had not asked questions.
But that silence had become something far more dangerous than grief.
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"The attack will proceed," the Queen said finally, her voice firm, final. "We cannot allow them to grow stronger."
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"And if this is their main force?" another advisor asked.
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"Then we destroy it," she replied.
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Simple.
Decisive.
Merciless.
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Alvira's voice broke through the room, quieter than the others, but carrying something none of them could ignore.
"And if he is there?"
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The question froze the air.
---
No one needed clarification.
Everyone knew who she meant.
---
For eight months, his name had not been spoken in this room.
Not once.
Because speaking it would make the possibility real.
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Zack did not turn to her immediately.
But when he did, his gaze was steady.
Unmoved.
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"He is not," he said.
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Alvira's breath caught slightly, but she didn't look away. "You do not know that."
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"I do," Zack replied calmly. "A vampire weakened to that extent, left in enemy territory, surrounded by wolves… does not survive eight months."
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His tone was not cruel.
It was factual.
Clinical.
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Alvira shook her head slowly, her voice trembling despite her effort to control it. "You speak like a physician. Not like a father."
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Zack's expression did not change. "Emotion does not change outcome."
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"But it changes truth," she said softly.
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For a moment, something flickered in his eyes.
Gone almost instantly.
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The Queen spoke before the silence could deepen further. "We cannot base war decisions on hope."
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Alvira lowered her gaze slightly.
But she did not agree.
---
Because somewhere inside her—
Hope had not died.
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Zack turned back toward the map, his attention returning to the strategy. "If the reports are correct, this settlement is not just a hiding place. It is a point of convergence. If we strike it, we weaken everything they are building."
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"And if we don't?" one of the commanders asked.
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Zack's answer was immediate. "Then they come to us. Stronger."
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That settled it.
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The Queen rose slowly from her throne, her presence commanding the entire room.
"Prepare the army," she said. "We move at first light tomorrow."
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The decision echoed through the chamber like a final blow.
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The meeting began to disperse, but not everyone moved.
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Alvira remained where she stood.
Zack did not leave either.
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For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
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Then she said quietly, "If he is there…"
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Zack's voice cut through hers, firm and controlled. "He is not."
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She looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time, she saw something beneath the surface.
Not doubt.
Not quite.
But something close to it.
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"And if you are wrong?" she asked.
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Zack held her gaze.
And for once—
He did not answer immediately.
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Because that was the one variable he could not measure.
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Back in the lower chambers, the restrained creature let out another low, distorted sound, its body twitching against its bindings as if reacting to something far away.
Something coming.
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The war was no longer approaching.
It was aligning.
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Two sides.
Two truths.
One battlefield.
And neither of them knew—
They were about to collide over the same people they had both already lost.