The Throne Room was in complete silence as Aria stood in the centre of the room, her auburn hair falling in waves down to the waist of her black cloak. On her head, she wore a black veiled hat, but even the sheer covering could not hide her large black eyes. The two witches who always accompanied their Priestess stood a few feet behind her, one on her right and the other on her left.

They had arrived only moments ago, but because Michael had been preparing for this very moment for two days—days spent agonizing over the memory of being stabbed and left for dead by Aria, and knowing she had set Gabriel's death in motion—he wished to get this meeting over with as quickly as possible.

"Aria, welcome." His mother broke the silence.

All eyes in the room, including his own, were drawn to the top of the dais where she stood to his father's left. But while everybody was probably captivated by her smile, Michael's gaze was drawn to the balled fists tucked at her sides.

Facing Aria and forcing a smile upon her face had to have been absolute torture for her.

"Thank you, Reina. And thanks be to you, Aaron, for coming to a decision so quickly."

"Your gratitude should be directed towards the future heir."

His father nodded down at him, and that was Michael's cue to move from the base of the dais, where he had been standing between Lukas and Damien, and walk up the stairs to join his Father's side.

Even with his back turned to the room, Michael knew every gaze in the room had shifted to him, but the only one he felt was Aria's.

After standing to his father's right, he faced the room, wanting Aria to look at him as he looked straight back at her and denied her request. He opened his mouth to do just that, but the words he had rehearsed over and over would not come out.

Not when his eyes met her black ones and it instantly reminded him of her cold gaze when she plunged a knife into him and left him bleeding out in the Woodlands.

Not when he thought of Gabriel six feet under in the burial grounds because Aria had forced him to feed on Fae blood.

Not when he thought of Ellette, alone and dying in the Woodlands, separated from her family because Aria's plans to start a war forced the Fae to flee to a new realm.

There was so much the witch had done, so many lives she had ruined and families she had broken, yet she remained intact, emboldened by her audacity to stand before the Wolves she had wronged and make a request.

"Michael?" His mother's voice saved him from falling deeper into his thoughts.

He looked her way for only a second—long enough to gain courage from the single nod she gave him once their eyes met—then back at Aria. He cleared his throat and stepped forward.

"The second son?" Her gaze shifted to his left. "I do not understand, Aaron."

"What is there to understand?" Came his father's harsh reply.

"You are to have him decide on such dire matters?"

"He is this pack's future Alpha. I am simply providing him with an opportunity to address matters that pertain to the wellbeing of the pack. Do I not have that right?"

"Forgive me, but being the future Alpha does not make his word law."

"No, but being the present Alpha does make mine so. And if I say my son is to decide, then he shall decide."

He could not remember the last time he heard his father refer to him as his son—privately or publicly. It stirred something deep within, but he could not dwell upon it. Especially not when Aria's gaze locked on him once more.

"Then what say you, Michael, son of Aaron, and future Alpha?"

It took Michael a moment—the dead silence in the room mixed with the fact all eyes were on him gave him pause—but he did finally speak. "After careful deliberation, your request for the Woodlands is denied."

"Denied? On what grounds?"

On the grounds that he wanted to rob her of what she wanted most, just as she had robbed him of a brother, his mother of her first born, his father of the true heir he loved most, and Ellette of her family and people.

"On the grounds that I have claimed it."

Amongst the sudden outburst of whispers of the pack, his father cleared his throat—silencing the room but also reminding Michael to profess out loud his reason for claiming the Woodlands.

"Whether the Witches are aware or not, I will be taking a mate soon, and intend to lay down roots in the Woodlands once that happens. And before you say I have no right, I have every right, as the Woodlands has always been under our rule."

"Falsely for the last century," Aria objected.

"According to you," he countered.

"According to the promise made before your bloodline usurped the throne."

His father stepped forward. "Tread carefully, Aria."

"Is it a lie, Aaron?"

Before things escalated between the two, Michael intervened. "And how are we to know the validity of this alleged promise? If it was real, or perhaps...made under false pretenses?"

Aria stepped forward and flipped the veil backwards over her hat. The intensity from her stare sent a chill down his spine. "What are you implying?"

"You say it was promised, I say where is your proof?"

His own proof her claim was without merit was a memory shown to him by the dagger turned dark object, but he could not exactly come out and say that as it would raise questions. His only choice was to call her bluff.

"If you are to deny me of my request and dishonour me by calling me a liar, then I see no other choice but to end the allyship between the Witches and the Wolves right here and right now." Her gaze moved to his father. "How unfortunate."

Michael looked between his father and Aria as they stared at one another, neither willing to back down. When he looked at his mother, her expression was hard to read as there was no obvious emotion he could see.

Ending an allyship that dated back centuries within a ten-minute discussion had not been his intention. The main reason the Wolves had kept the Witches close was because it was better to have them as an ally than an enemy.

Had he done just that?

"Do you stand by your son's decision, Aaron?"

Michael's eyes were pulled back to the witch.

"If it is his wish to claim the Woodlands, who am I to deny him of what already belongs to him?"

His father's words made him feel both content and conflicted. He had gotten what he wanted, but at what cost to the Wolves? And what would this mean for his relationship with Zanna, and his mother's relationship with Moreena? What effect would this have on his plan?

Aria looked back at him. "The Witches will no longer be at your beck and call."

Michael felt those words was her way of giving him a final chance to recant. But he had come this far and could not back down now.

He walked forward until he reached the top step and stared down at her. "So be it. And the Wolves will no longer supply you with our blood."

"So be it," she replied, then her gaze flickered to his left. "Asking was a courtesy, Aaron. The Woodlands has and will always be ours. Whether today, tomorrow, or another hundred years from now, we will have it."

She pulled the veil back down over her face before turning and walking towards the door with the other two witches.

Once the doors closed behind them and the pack began to chatter, it hit Michael that he would be wise to not take Aria's words—threat—lightly. If the Witches were willing to break ties over the Woodlands, he had to find out why they truly wanted it.

* * *

Michael tucked the dagger in the inside pocket of his coat, then made a break for his chamber door.

Since finding it, he did not feel comfortable having it out of his sight, but he did not dare bring it to the meeting between the pack and the Witches. Now that the meeting and follow up discussions had ended—his upcoming mating being the main topic—he could leave for the Woodlands.

He closed his door behind him and headed down the corridor. Once he rounded the corner, he saw Danica and his aunt Emilia heading his way. Their arms were linked together, heads turned and looking at each other with matching smiles on their faces.

His aunt took notice of him first when her head turned in his direction. When her eyes met his, her smile brightened, prompting Danica to follow his aunt's gaze until her own landed upon him.

Internally, Michael groaned and stopped immediately. He already knew his aunt was going to conveniently have somewhere to be and leave him and Danica alone. The scene had played out so many times before, he could almost predict every word of his aunt's made up excuse.

"Michael, what a surprise seeing you here." His aunt and Danica stopped in front of him. "Your mother has yet to return to her chambers, so I assumed the meeting was still in session."

He smiled at her. "It ended only moments ago."

"And it went well?"

"The Wolves stood firm in their decision to deny the Witches' request. There were a few unexpected outcomes, but nothing we cannot deal with."

Although his aunt had attended a few meetings with his mother's permission, she was not a member of their pack. He could only tell her so much, and let his mother fill her sister in on the rest should she choose to.

"I am glad to hear it. And if you say the meeting has just ended, then I shall go see Reina." She turned her head to Danica. "You do not mind if I cut our walk short, do you?"

Michael looked at Danica only as an alternative to rolling his eyes, and watched her smile soften as she shook her head.

"I do not mind."

His aunt looked at him. "Michael, would you mind taking my place then?"

Of course he minded.

"Of course not."

"Great!" His aunt slid her arm from Danica's as she looked back at her. "I shall check on you in your chambers later. I hope you two have a nice chat."

His aunt gave him a final glance and smile before turning around and walking off.

"Have you been well? I have not seen you for a few days."

Michael pulled his gaze from his aunt in the distance down to Danica. "I suppose I should say yes, as I fear if I say otherwise you might run straight to my father again."

She furrowed her brows. "I do not know what you mean."

"No? I am sure you have been made aware of our mating ceremony being moved up."

She looked down. "Yes, your mother informed me a few days ago."

"And you mean to tell me you have no idea why that is?"

She kept her eyes on the floor as she shook her head.

Was she purposely pretending to be intimidated? Or was her guilt preventing her from meeting his eyes as she lied to his face?

"My father knew about me failing to meet you for breakfast. And since only the two of us knew about it, only one of us could have told him. Is that not so?"

She looked up at him then, her eyes wide. "I did not tell."

"Well, I know for a fact it was not me. So which one of us is the liar? Me, the one who wanted nothing to do with this pairing in the first place, or you, the one who has everything to gain from it?"

She lowered her gaze yet again, but made no attempt to answer. And if she was not going to come clean, he saw no point in continuing the conversation.

He brushed past her and began to walk away, but was only able to take a few steps before she called out his name. He stopped but kept his back to her as he waited for her to speak.

"There was...someone else who knew about our date."

"Who?"

"Lukas."

Michael turned around and stared at her.

Lukas?

He was not so far removed from the happenings inside of the castle that he had not noticed the two had struck up some sort of friendship. He simply had not cared enough to view it as anything more. So it was not the fact she had told his guard about their date that confused him, but the thought of Lukas being so bothered by him missing it that he felt compelled to tattle to his father that had done so.

Why did he care? What could he possibly gain from that?

He thought back to the morning after he found the dagger. He remembered Lukas waiting outside of his chambers, the guard's annoyance over Michael not knowing why his father wanted to see him.

Knowing Lukas was the one who told made his demeanour then make sense to Michael now, but, again, he still failed to see why Lukas had done it. Why he had not said a word as he delivered Michael to the Throne Room.

"Why is Lukas championing for you?"

She looked up at him, her eyes full of tears. "He—"

"You are not about to tell me that you two are—"

And then it hit him as he remembered more.

He had left Lukas outside of the Throne Room, but found him absent when the meeting was over. He had thought it a blessing that Lukas finally learned when to disappear, but now Michael realized that was not the case.

Lukas had learned his disappearance would not draw Michael's concern.

That the last thing Michael would do was look for him, and that made him free to go anywhere without the fear of being followed—not by someone else but by him.

Lukas had told on him because he needed Michael occupied.

He needed Michael away from the Woodlands.

Michael balled his fists and turned away from Danica. If he had not, he might have done or said something he would later regret.

If Lukas truly did go to the Woodlands that day, then she had given him the reason to concoct such a plan and the audacity to carry it out.

But as annoyed and upset as he was with her, he did not believe she had any idea what her actions had done. His fight was with Lukas.

He turned around and headed down the corridor, ignoring Danica calling after him. The desperation in her voice should have stopped him. It should have been a sign to not do what he was about to do. But his anger would not allow him to see reason, nor slow his steps.

Not when he was far too determined to find and kill Lukas.

A/N: What do we think is going on between Lukas and Danica? Would love to hear your theories! :)