Chapter 230
Draven.
“Back to the matter of the vampires and the humans,” he said. “We’re fighting two fronts now. But what if we didn’t have to? What if we could pit them against each other instead?”
That shifted the room’s energy. Some elders blinked. Others sat straighter.
“Let the bloodsuckers feed on the humans,” my father went on. “Let the humans panic. Let Brackham and his ilk lose control. If the vampires think they are being hunted, they will retaliate.”
Several elders nodded at the suggestion.
A few even muttered in appreciation.
I let their interest bloom before I added fuel to the fire.
“Already, like I’d said,” I said, sweeping the room with my gaze, “the humans have made the mistake of trying to monitor the vampires with the cameras placed in the woods. Eyes where they don’t belong. The Vampires will surely come for them.”
I didn’t smile, but inwardly, I allowed the satisfaction to rise.
“Let our enemies eat each other,” I said. “Then we pick up the pieces.”
A low murmur of approval passed around the chamber. Even Reginald, who had spent much of the meeting with a blade for a tongue, offered no resistance this time.
King Alderic stood slowly. The movement alone was enough to settle the final whispers.
“The council is adjourned,” he announced. “Same hour, two days hence. By then, I expect progress on the Wall and updates on both the lab and any movement from the vampires. We move deliberately, but we move.”
Chairs scraped. Robes swished. Elders began to file out in twos and threes, still exchanging low conversations, but without the fury that had marred the start of the meeting.
I remained seated for a moment, watching them go and letting their tension roll off my shoulders.
I knew what they were thinking. I’d seen that look in their eyes before—threatened, defensive, cornered by a younger wolf they couldn’t yet leash.
“Draven,” Alderic’s deep voice cut through the air just as I stood. “Walk with me.”
I gave a slight nod, falling into step beside him as we moved through the long corridor of stone archways toward the back veranda.
The midafternoon sun painted long streaks across the polished floor. For a while, we walked in silence, the weight of power hanging thick in the air between us.
Finally, Alderic spoke, his tone lower now—more fatherly than kingly.
“You’ve done well. Better than most would’ve in your place. But…”
The pause wasn’t empty. It was loaded.
“…you will be King soon. You can’t afford to let pride put you at odds with the Council. Even when you’re right.”
I didn’t look at him. “So, I should let them bark like dogs and pretend not to hear?”
“You should listen like a wolf listens to the wind,” he said gently. “Not all noise is worth a fight. And not every challenge needs a counterstrike.”
I met his gaze now. There was no scolding there—just tempered wisdom.
He went on, “You’re not wrong to lead with strength. But power… Power is more lasting when wrapped in patience. Don’t rule with a clenched fist, Draven. Use wisdom. Influence them. Make them think the fight is theirs to win when it’s already yours.”
A beat passed. The breeze rustled through the garden hedges below.
“If they believe you disregard them,” Alderic continued, “they will unite. And believe me, it will not be in your favour.”
I exhaled slowly, the tension in my jaw loosening. “Noted, Your Majesty.”
He smiled faintly, squeezing my shoulder. “Good. Now, get some rest. You’ve stirred the nest enough for one day.”
—
Twenty minutes later, in the backseat of the Jeep.
Jeffery was up front, arms folded across his chest, while Oscar and I shared the rear cabin space.
The air was quiet for a stretch, the purr of the engine and the muted drone of tires on gravel filling the void. Then Oscar shifted, throwing a half glance my way.
“You were bold in there.”
I didn’t answer, but he smiled.
“Borderline reckless,” he added, “but… effective.”
I grunted. “You disagree with how I handled them.”
“I think,” Oscar said, tapping his fingers on his knee, “you did what needed to be done—but you risk alienating the very council you will soon inherit.”
“I don’t care if they like me.”
“No, but you need them to follow you,” he said. “There’s a difference.”
I turned my head toward the window, jaw tightening again.
Oscar leaned in slightly. “Draven, you don’t have to fight them all. You just have to lead them better than they know how to resist. Bring them under your hand… not beneath your boot.”
I studied him now. Oscar had always been the calm voice of reason, a tempering rod to my fire.
He continued, “Reginald carries more sway than he deserves. The way a few of them looked to him—”
“He thinks he’s smarter than he is,” I cut in.
“Exactly. And that kind of man is dangerous if not watched closely.”
From the front, Jeffery let out a humourless chuckle. “Power-hungry wolf. And he’s never even led a village before.”
Oscar nodded. “It’s that lack of power that drives him. He wants it because he’s never had it.”
He wasn’t wrong. Reginald Fellowes had never been Alpha. Never a Beta. Never sat in any seat of real governance. And yet here he was, positioning himself as a mouthpiece in the council, riding the coattails of entitlement.
I clenched my jaw. “My father made him a council member.”
“Hmm,” Oscar mused, then smirked. “I bet he regrets it.”
That drew a small exhale of amusement from me—half sigh, half laugh.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t cost us.”
Jeffery glanced back briefly. “It won’t, as long as you keep reminding them who the real Alpha in that room is.”
“I intend to,” I said.
I sat back, my mind working through the hours ahead. Stormveil had offered no rest—not yet. But if I were going to take the throne, if I were going to lead not just warriors, but an entire race, I had to start mastering the other battlefield—the one fought with words and influence.
No more unnecessary enemies. No more wasted strength.
Just strategy and time.