Betrayed by Blood, Claimed by the Alpha
Chapter 79

Chapter 79: Chapter 79

Betrayed by Blood~

The king’s inner court reeked of tension. All the council members were gathered around. King Alaric sat at the head of the long table, his knuckles pressed against his temples, his eyes dark with fury. Cain’s insolent words echoed in his head repeatedly like a mocking chant.

"How dare he," Alaric muttered under his breath, though the words were loud enough to send a shiver down the spines of the councilmen seated before him.

"My king," one of the advisors began, his tone carefully measured and calm, "Cain’s words at the summon were... bold, but perhaps it is wise to—"

"Bold?" Alaric’s voice lashed through the room like thunder, his chair scraping back as he stood abruptly. "He undermined me. In my court. In front of my people. Do you call that bold, or do you mean treasonous?"

The advisor hesitated, swallowing hard. "Sire, Vehiron’s resources—"

There was a knock at the chamber doors, the sound rippled sharply through the already tense room. The king’s gaze snapped to the door, a nasty scowl on his face.

"What now?" Alaric barked out angrily.

The doors creaked open, and a nervous messenger stepped inside, clutching a sealed letter in his trembling hands. "A message, Your Majesty," he stammered. "From Vehiron."

"Bring it here," Alaric commanded impatiently, his tone clipped.

The room held its collective breath as the messenger scurried forward, placing the letter in Alaric’s hand. Alaric tore it open, his eyes scanning the contents. With every word, his expression darkened, his grip on the letter tightening until the envelope crumpled in his fist.

"That insolent bastard," he hissed out angrily, the veins in his neck popping out.

"Sire?" the advisor closest to him asked cautiously.

Alaric slammed the letter down on the table, his voice rising with each word. "Cain has informed me that he is reducing the region’s allocated resources. By half."

Gasps rippled through the court, the reality dawning on them.

"Half?" one of the councilmen choked out. "But, Your Majesty, that—"

"Silence!" Alaric roared. "Do you see now? Do you see the kind of power he thinks he holds? He not only humiliates me publicly, but now he dares to choke my kingdom’s lifeblood!" He dragged a hand down his face, his breathing uneven as anger filled him.

"You all think I should do nothing, don’t you? Sit here like some neutered wolf while Cain mocks me? Well, this is the result of your damned actions." Alaric growled. This was a huge slap to his face. Not only had Cain insulted him publicly by going against his words. He had the audacity to send this. Reduce Vehiron’s allocation to the region? How dare him!

"Your Majesty," a councilman began carefully, "this... this is a grave development. Without the full allocation from Vehiron, the region will struggle to maintain its stability."

Alaric’s glare turned to ice. "And whose fault is that? Who allowed Cain to rise to such power unchecked? All of you cowards, afraid to stand against him, whispering about diplomacy and alliances. This is what your caution has brought us. He’s turned into a beast we cannot control. Now he dictates what he allocates to the region? He has gone too far this time."

"My king," another councilman spoke up, cautiously, "The region cannot afford any kind of war. War with Vehiron would be catastrophic. Cain’s pack holds wealth and strength unmatched by any other in the region. If we provoke him, we risk destabilizing the entire kingdom."

Alaric snapped his eyes at the man like a predator locking onto prey. "Are you suggesting I let Cain humiliate me unchecked? That I allow him to believe he is untouchable? Run around like the mad dog that he is?"

"Of course not, my king. But there are subtler ways to handle this."

"Subtlety," Alaric spat venomously, his lips curled into a snarl. "Is that all you fools can offer me? Words about patience and careful planning while my throne is mocked?"

He turned his back to the table, pacing angrily, "Cain thrives on fear. He thinks himself invincible because of his pack’s strength. But everyone has a weakness, even him."

"My king," another councilman spoke up, his voice low, "if you wish, we could increase surveillance on Vehiron. Discreetly, of course. Learn more of his vulnerabilities."

Alaric paused, his back still to the room, and then nodded slowly. "Yes. Watch him. Find me something, anything, that I can use against him." He turned back to face the council, his eyes ice cold. "And if you fail me..."

"We won’t... This time, we will get Cain for sure." The man reassured.

Alaric turned around, his gaze locking onto the five councilmen, he stared at them intensely for some seconds and then without a word, Alaric stormed out of the chamber, the doors slamming shut behind him.

_________________________________________

The quietness in the Queens room felt suffocating. Queen Ingrid sat stiffly by the vanity, her hands neatly folded in her lap, her gaze fixed on her reflection in the mirror. She wasn’t admiring herself. No, the tension in her expression betrayed her anxiety coursing through her veins. Her maids moved silently around her, one carefully pinning her hair, another laying out a gown she wouldn’t need tonight. She knew why they kept themselves busy—they were just as uneasy as she was.

The knock on the door made Ingrid flinch. It was soft, hesitant, as if the one knocking knew the dread it would bring.

"Enter," Ingrid called in.

A young maid stepped inside, her face pale. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her apron as she curtsied. "Your Majesty," she began timidly, her gaze darting up only briefly before falling back to the floor. "The king’s meeting with the council has ended."

"And?" Ingrid asked calmly, although her stomach was twisted in knots.

The maid hesitated, glancing nervously at the other servants before continuing. "It... it did not go well, Your Majesty. The king was furious. There was shouting... and he stormed out of the council chamber."

The words hung in the air like a storm cloud, Ingrid’s hands tightened in her lap, her nails biting into her palms. She had known, of course, that the meeting would go poorly. Cain’s defiance had left Alaric seething in anger, and the council’s constant reminders of caution and restraint would only have pushed his rage further. Still, hearing it confirmed made her chest tighten.

"Did he say where he was going?" Ingrid asked quietly.

"No, Your Majesty," the maid replied. "But... he was heading this way."

Ingrid exhaled slowly, though it did little to ease the tension gripping her. She nodded and dismissed the maid, who curtsied again and quickly left the room, the door closing behind her.

The silence that followed felt deafening. Ingrid stood up calmly. The other maids exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing, their hands stilling as they watched their queen.

"Leave me," Ingrid said firmly. "All of you."

The maids hesitated for only a moment before obeying, stepping out of the room as silently as they could manage. Ingrid moved to the window, her eyes scanning the dark courtyard below. Her breath fogged the glass as she leaned against it.

She didn’t need to wonder what awaited her when Alaric arrived. She had lived through this pattern too many times to not know. He would come to her while his anger was still piping hot, while his pride wounded, and she would bear the brunt of his fury. The bruises from their last encounter had only just begun to fade.

Ingrid straightened, smoothing the front of her dress as if she was preparing for a battle. But it wasn’t battle, not really. It was surrender. The kind she had perfected over the years, the kind that kept her breathing, even though it suffocated her soul.

The distant sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the halls and soon, The door flew open, slamming against the wall with a force that made her flinch. Alaric walked in, his face a mask of barely contained fury.

"My king," she said softly.

"Don’t." He cuts her off sharply, his glare pinned her in place. "Do not play the meek wife with me now, Ingrid."

"I meant no offense," she replied carefully.

"Offense?" Alaric laughed humorlessly, "The offense comes from Cain, making a mockery of me. And where were you? What use are you to me if you cannot even help maintain my authority?"

"I have no sway over Cain," she said, her voice trembling.

Alaric walked towards her, a bitter scoff escaped his lips. "How would you? You couldn’t do the one thing I asked of you. You were a friend of his mother! You could’ve used that to your advantage! I urged you to get closer to the boy but even that you couldn’t do." His hand snapping out to grab her chin roughly, forcing her to look at him, "You are useless. A barren, empty vessel. Nothing but a pretty face with no power to speak of."

Ingrid tried to pull back, but his grip tightened, his fingers digging into her skin. "Do you know what they’re saying about me?" He gritted out through clenched teeth, his anger surfacing again. "That I’m weak. That I’m losing control. And you—" he pushed her and she staggered, barely making it only have him hit her roughly on the cheek. The slap ringing out in the silence of the room.

"You’re nothing but dead weight," Alaric hissed, towering over her. "I should’ve replaced you years ago. Cain laughs in my face, the council cowers like whipped dogs, and you—" he sneered, looking her over with utter disdain— "stand there and do nothing. What are you good for, Ingrid? Tell me!"

"You can’t even bear me an heir," Alaric continued, pacing now. "Do you think that’s gone unnoticed? They whisper about it in the court, Ingrid. How the mighty King Alaric has no bloodline, no legacy. And why? Because his queen—his barren queen—is incapable of fulfilling her one true purpose."

Ingrid’s nails dug into her palms, but she remained silent. She had learned to endure these insults, until he tired himself out.

Alaric stopped pacing, turning to face her again. His eyes filled with hatred, "Cain’s mother, now, she had power. Influence. People respected her, feared her even. She knew how to wield her connections for her husband. How to make alliances. Edward was so lucky with her and then there’s you. You couldn’t even get close to her son after her death. You’re cold, unfeeling, incapable of even pretending to be maternal."

He stepped closer, his presence suffocating. "You could’ve made him trust you. Made him loyal. But no, you couldn’t even manage that. You’re a failure, Ingrid. A liability. Do you hear me?" Alaric barked, his voice rising again. "You’re useless!"

"Forgive me, my king," Ingrid whispered, her voice barely audible. "I will do better."

Alaric stared at her for a long moment, his lip curling in disgust. "You make me sick." He spat out before walking out finally.

Ingrid stood still for a moment, her shoulders trembling as she struggled to contain the emotions swirling in her. Slowly, she turned back to the mirror, her jaw clenched hard, her gaze ice cold as she forcefully wiped her cheek, almost like she was erasing his touch.

She grabbed her phone and dialed the number. It rang just once.

"Tonight, my chambers. Don’t be late."

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