Chapter 97: By Blood and Destiny

(GRIFFIN)

“Order.” Elder Thorne raps his knuckles against the ancient oak table. “We will maintain order in this council.”

It has been a week since I returned, and my brother has been able to hold off the noble families the whole time. But not any longer.

The murmuring around the table subsides gradually. Seven faces turn toward me, each bearing the weight of centuries of noble lineage. The heads of the seven noble families have convened to discuss my return and what it means for the leadership of the Human Wolf Kingdom.

Elder Thorne, with his silver hair and piercing blue eyes, sits directly across from me. To his left is Elder Blackwood, her face a map of wrinkles that can’t hide her sharp intellect. Beside her sits Elder Monroe, whose perpetual scowl has intimidated generations of young wolves. The others, Elders Vane, Howlett, and Lyall, fill out the circle, each watching me with varying degrees of skepticism and curiosity.

Erik stands at my right, his posture relaxed but his eyes alert. He has been filling the role of king in my absence, and by all accounts, he has done an admirable job.

“The situation is unprecedented,” Elder Thorne begins, his deep voice filling the room. “No king has ever returned after being presumed dead for a decade.”

“The laws are clear,” Elder Blackwood interjects. “Griffin is the rightful king of the Human Wolf Kingdom. The throne is his, by blood and by right.”

“Laws written centuries ago couldn’t have anticipated this situation,” Elder Monroe counters.

“King Erik has led us admirably for ten years. The kingdom has prospered under his rule. Why disrupt what works?”

“Because it isn’t right,” Elder Vane speaks up, his voice quiet but firm. “Griffin is the firstborn son of King Alaric. The crown is his.”

“A crown he hasn’t worn in ten years,” Elder Nightshade points out. “Ten years during which he has been held captive by humans. How can we be certain his mind hasn’t been…compromised?”

The implication sends a ripple of tension through the room. I keep my expression neutral, though I feel Erik stiffen beside me.

“My brother’s mind is as sharp as ever,” Erik says, his casual tone belying the steel underneath. “If anything, his captivity has given him insights that will prove valuable in the coming conflict with the Silver Ring.”

Elder Thorne nods. “The succession. Erik, what are your thoughts?”

All eyes are on my brother, who smiles easily. “My thoughts haven’t changed since Griffin came back. I’ve always been a placeholder, keeping the throne warm until his return. My place is on the battlefield, not on the throne.”

“You’ve ruled well,” Elder Blackwood says, her tone surprisingly gentle. “The people have come to respect you.”

“And they will respect Griffin even more,” Erik replies without hesitation. “He is the rightful king. I have no interest in challenging that.”

A silence falls over the table as the elders absorb this. I can see calculations happening behind their eyes, potential alliances and oppositions forming and reforming.

“Very well,” Elder Thorne finally says. “If there are no objections, we will proceed with the formal reinstatement ceremony at the next full moon.”

My heart skips a beat at the mention of the full moon, now just over one week away. The timing is either spectacularly unfortunate or a deliberate complication from Elder Thorne, who has always been savvy about wolf traditions and their implications.

“The full moon is traditional for royal ceremonies,” Elder Blackwood notes, though I detect a hint of concern in her eyes as she looks at me. She knows about Maya, then, or she has her suspicions. I shouldn’t be surprised; little escapes her notice.

“Then it’s settled,” Elder Thorne declares. “At the full moon, Griffin will reclaim his throne, and Erik will return to his position as commander of the forces.”

The meeting concludes with formal pleasantries, each elder approaching me to offer congratulations that range from genuinely warm to barely concealed reluctance. Throughout it all, I maintain the composure expected of a king, polite, reserved, controlled.

As the last elder departs, Erik claps a hand on my shoulder. “Well, that went better than expected. Only two of them openly questioned your fitness to rule.”

“Three,” I correct him, “if you count Nightshade’s implications about my mental state.”

Erik waves this off. “Nightshade questions everyone’s mental state, including his own. Don’t take it personally.”

We leave the council chamber together, stepping into the wide corridor with its soaring ceilings and ancient tapestries depicting the founding of the Human Wolf Kingdom. The familiar surroundings still feel strange to me, like clothes that once fit perfectly but now hang awkwardly after years of disuse.

“Have you spoken with Maya?” Erik asks, his voice dropping to ensure privacy. “About the bond?”

“N—”

We turn a corner, and I stop abruptly. Maya stands in the middle of the hallway, deep in conversation with Jerry. Her hair is pulled back in a practical ponytail, and she’s wearing a pair of thick, dark-rimmed glasses that make her look—

Something dark surges in me, a ravenous hunger.

My attention is fixed on Maya as Erik slips away. When I approach them, Jerry notices me first. “Your Majesty,” he says. “We were just discussing Maya’s return to the lab.”

Maya turns, and the sight of her still hits me with the same force it did in our shared cell, a mixture of longing, protectiveness, and something deeper I’m reluctant to name.

“Return to the lab?” I repeat, looking at her with surprise. “You’re planning to continue working for us?”

Jerry, sensing the sudden tension, makes a hasty excuse about checking some results and hurries away, leaving Maya and me alone in the corridor.

“Is that a problem?” she asks, her tone carefully neutral.

“Not at all,” I assure her. “I just—I thought you wanted to stay away from the shifter world. You said as much when we first escaped.”

Maya’s expression softens slightly. “I did say that, didn’t I? I was upset. Shaken.” She gestures vaguely. “But I’m not a coward, Griffin. I spent years of my life preparing for this, even though I didn’t know it at the time. I’m not walking away now, especially not when my knowledge could help bring down the Silver Ring.”

There’s a determination in her voice that I’ve always admired, a strength that has nothing to do with physical power and everything to do with an unshakable inner resolve.

“I never thought you were a coward,” I tell her honestly. “Quite the opposite. Your bravery has always been…” I trail off, searching for the right word.

“Impressive? Surprising? Unexpected from a mere human?” she supplies, a hint of challenge in her tone.

“Humbling,” I finish quietly. “To me, personally.”

The answer seems to catch her off guard. Before she can respond, a voice calls out from down the corridor. “Griffin? Griffin, is that you?”

I turn to see a slender brunette hurrying toward us, her face alight with excitement. It takes me a moment to place her—Aria Vane, Elder Vane’s youngest daughter. We grew up together, along with several other children from the noble families, though she was always quiet, preferring books to the rough play the rest of us enjoyed.

“Aria,” I greet her, inclining my head politely. “It’s been a long time.”

She comes to a stop before us, slightly breathless, her cheeks flushed. “Too long,” she says, her voice soft. She glances down momentarily, a shy gesture I remember from childhood, before meeting my eyes again with a smile that seems reserved just for me. “I can hardly believe you’re really back. When Father told me, I—” Her gaze shifts to Maya, and something in her expression changes, a subtle cooling, an almost imperceptible drawing back. “Oh. Hello.”

“This is Dr. Maya Sorin,” I tell her, noting the dismissive once-over Aria gives her.

“How nice,” Aria says, her tone suggesting it’s anything but. She turns back to me immediately, as if Maya has already ceased to exist. “You must have been through so much,” she continues, her voice dropping to an intimate pitch as she steps closer. “I’ve thought about you often over the years.”

Her hand comes to rest lightly on my forearm, her touch deliberately gentle. Despite her shy demeanor, there’s a calculated quality to the gesture that speaks of intentional flirtation. I recognize the strategy, the appearance of vulnerability designed to evoke protective instincts.

“It was…challenging,” I acknowledge, stepping back slightly to create distance. From the corner of my eye, I can see Maya’s posture stiffening, her expression carefully blank in a way that suggests she’s masking irritation.

“I’d love to hear about it,” Aria says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a demure smile. “Perhaps over lunch? When you feel ready to talk about it, of course.” Her eyes drop again, a perfect picture of shyness, before looking up at me through her lashes. “I’d be honored to listen.”

The performance is skilled, subtle enough to seem natural, bold enough to convey interest. It’s difficult to refuse without seeming cruel.

“Perhaps,” I say noncommittally. “Things are rather hectic at the moment, with the reinstatement ceremony being planned.” “Of course,” she says quickly, her smile brightening. “I wouldn’t want to impose. But maybe the day after the ceremony? At the garden pavilion? It’s always been so peaceful there.”

Her persistence leaves me with little choice but to agree, at least tentatively. “I’ll have to check the schedule, but that may work.”

This seems to satisfy her. With another lingering touch to my arm and a barely perceptible nod to Maya, Aria continues down the hallway, glancing back once with a small, private smile.

When she’s out of earshot, Maya lets out a soft snort. “Well, that was illuminating.”

“Aria was always shy,” I say, though even I can hear the inadequacy of this explanation.

“Shy? Maybe. But she knew exactly what she was doing.” Maya’s voice has an edge to it. “The hand on your arm, the looking up through her lashes. And that quick dismissal of me, like I was some servant who’d wandered into the wrong conversation.”

I’m surprised by Maya’s accurate assessment, and by the obvious irritation in her tone. “The noble families have always been hierarchical. Humans aren’t typically part of their social circle.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” Maya says, her voice clipped. “I’m good enough to help you escape captivity, but not good enough to be acknowledged by her royal highness.” She pauses, then adds with forced casualness, “She’s clearly interested in you.”

“She’s following her father’s agenda,” I explain, watching Maya’s reaction carefully. “The noble families have always sought alliances through marriage.”

“And you’re okay with that?” There’s no mistaking the irritation in her voice now.

“It was expected of me before,” I say carefully. “Before my captivity, I might have considered such an arrangement. It would have been my duty.”

Something flashes in Maya’s eyes, hurt, perhaps, before she masters her expression. “And now?” she asks, her voice deliberately light.

I step closer to her, close enough that I can catch the subtle scent of her, lavender and chemicals from the lab, and something uniquely her. “I am a different man than I was ten years ago. My priorities have changed. My understanding of what matters has, as well.”

She doesn’t back away, though I can see the rapid pulse at the base of her throat. “How so?”

“My captivity changed me,” I say softly. “In ways that those who weren’t there, who didn’t experience it firsthand, can never fully comprehend. Aria sees the Griffin of before, the king she remembers. But that man is gone.” Maya’s eyes search mine. “And who are you now?”

The question hangs between us, heavy with implications. “I’m still discovering that,” I admit. “But I know one thing for certain.” I pause, weighing my next words carefully. “You’re the only one around whom I can truly be myself. The only one who knows who I’ve become.”

Her expression softens, the irritation melting away. “You’re good with words, Griffin. That’s going to get you in trouble one day.”

Her smile is teasing, light. I reach forward and touch the edge of her glasses, murmuring, “They suit you. Perhaps a little too much.”

Her face grows red, and she bats my hand away. “I have to go. You should be careful around that Aria. I don’t trust her.”

My lips curve. “Is that jealousy?”

Her eyes widen. “M–Me? Jealous? That’s absurd!”

But her voice is high-pitched, and her whole face is red now. I lean forward to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Good. Because you have no reason to be. I’m not attracted to Aria. She’s not my type.” I pause before asking deliberately, “Would you like to know who is?”

I see the panic and heat in her eyes. “I—I have to go. We’ll talk about this later.” She takes off, and I chuckle to myself.

Yes, we will.

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