The silence in the Great Hall was so thick it felt physical. Duke Sterling was still gasping on the floor, and dozens of Alphas remained pinned by the crushing weight of the air.
Alistair finally moved. He stepped into Asarmose's space, his presence the only thing that didn't buckle under the Prince's pressure. He reached out, his large palm resting lightly, almost casually, on Asarmose's left shoulder.
"Darling," Alistair whispered, his voice smooth and teasingly close to the Prince's ear. "If you kill them all now, who would serve me? A kingdom of corpses is terribly quiet, and I'm bored enough as it is."
The tension in Asarmose's shoulders snapped. He cut off the pheromones instantly, the heavy scent of resins and honey vanishing as if it had never been there. He let out a sharp, indignant "Hmph," pouting slightly as if he'd been unfairly interrupted, and marched back toward his throne.
Alistair didn't follow immediately. He stood there for a second, letting out a soft, private chuckle. Cute, he thought, the word feeling strange and dangerous in his mind.
The chaos they left behind was absolute. As the pressure lifted, the Alphas scrambled to their feet, their faces flushed with a mix of terror and deep humiliation. Sterling, his throat still red from the invisible grip, scrambled toward the back of the crowd, his eyes burning with a silent, poisonous rage.
Alistair didn't give them a second thought. He gave a single, sharp glance toward the announcer. The man nearly tripped over his own robes as he bowed.
"The... the banquet is concluded!" the announcer shouted, his voice cracking.
Alistair stood up and, for the first time, reached out his hand to Asarmose in a formal, royal gesture. It was a public show of unity—the King finally acknowledging his partner.
Asarmose didn't even look at the hand. He stood up on his own, his spine straight and his expression cold. He walked past Alistair and straight down into the crowd. The nobles, seeing the Prince approaching, scrambled to get out of his way, parting like a sea of frightened shadows.
Alistair stared at the Prince's retreating back for a heartbeat, then took long, graceful strides, easily catching up to him. They walked out together toward the waiting carriage, leaving the Great Hall behind. But the atmosphere they left in their wake was like a physical weight.
As the doors closed behind them, a chilling realization swept through the room. The Alphas looked at each other, their hands shaking as they smoothed their rumpled silks. There had been sixty high-ranking Alphas in that room—men who prided themselves on their strength and their dominance.
And one man had brought them all to their knees without raising a finger.
The realization was terrifying. They hadn't just married off a piece of land; they had invited a force into the palace that none of them knew how to control.
The interior of the carriage was a world away from the chaos of the hall. It was lined with dark, padded velvet and smelled of Alistair's cold bergamot and the lingering, sweet spice of Asarmose's presence. The only sound was the rhythmic clicking of the horses' hooves on the cobblestones.They sat opposite each other, the space between them charged with an electric silence.
Alistair leaned back, his long legs stretched out, taking up most of the cabin. He rested his chin on his hand, his silver-gray eyes fixed on Asarmose with a look of intense, quiet curiosity. He wasn't bored anymore. For the first time in his life, he was looking at someone who didn't fit into any of his boxes.
Asarmose sat perfectly upright, his arms crossed over his shimmering chest. He looked out the window at the dark, soot-stained streets of Ferrum-Vail, his jaw tight. He was still radiating a quiet, indignant heat."You have a very dramatic way of making a point, Darling," Alistair said, his voice a low, smooth drawl. "Sterling is an idiot, but he owns half the coal mines in the north. You nearly turned him into a decorative rug."
Asarmose didn't turn his head. "He was a parasite. I simply reminded him that he shouldn't bite the hand that is currently holding his leash."
Alistair chuckled, but his expression soon turned serious. He leaned forward, his silver eyes narrowing. "That aside, your refusal to bring your people here is going to be a problem. That was the sole purpose of this marriage, Asarmose. A union of blood and soil. My council expects your court to arrive within the month."
Finally, Asarmose turned his gaze toward the King. His eyes were like polished gold in the dim light. "I told you, Alistair. I will not let my people be tainted by the filth of this land until it is cleansed. I will not bring them here to be 'livestock' for your Alphas to play with."
Alistair studied the Prince's face for a long, silent moment. He looked at the curve of his jaw and the absolute certainty in his eyes. The King's scent of bergamot sharpened, cutting through the carriage's air like a warning.
"They will have to come sooner or later," Alistair said quietly, his voice holding a hint of the King's authority. "A contract isn't fulfilled by one man alone."
Asarmose didn't argue. He didn't blink. He simply turned his head back to the window, returning to his stony silence as the carriage rolled deeper into the heart of the iron city. The conversation was over, but the war of wills had only just begun.