But his body had finally reached a point where anger could no longer command it fully.
He tried to roar, but blood rose in his throat. He spat it onto the snow, and the red stain spread beneath his huge paws.
All he could think about was Isabella.
For one terrible mont, he wanted to leave.
He wanted to turn away from the battle, force his way back into the palace, pick Isabella up, pick up her babies, and carry all of them sowhere no enemy could ever reach. He wanted to curl his huge body around them and shut the whole world outside.
He could not lose her.
He could not.
If sothing happened to her while he stood out here bleeding into the snow, then what was the point of being king? What was the point of having strength? What was the point of ruling anything if the person who changed everything was screaming in pain behind stone walls and he could not even hold her hand?
Another attacker ca for him.
Kian killed him, but the movent made his vision darken at the edges.
He stumbled.
Asael caught the opening and threw himself between Kian and two enemies. A blade cut across Asael’s arm, but he did not step back.
"My king, fall back for one breath!" Asael shouted.
Kian’s blue eyes snapped toward him.
He wanted to refuse.
Then his legs nearly buckled.
A guard grabbed at the fur near his side, helping push him back toward the broken corner of a stone wall where the snow had piled high. Kian wanted to shake him off, but another wave of dizziness hit him so strongly that he had no choice but to let them cover him.
He hated it.
He hated the weakness.
He hated the poison.
He hated the people who had chosen this night to attack.
He leaned against the stone corner, his huge white lion chest rising and falling heavily. Blood dripped from his jaw. His claws dug into the frozen ground as he tried to force his strength back into his limbs.
Then the moonlight changed.
For a mont, the battlefield sound seed to move far away.
Snow still fell, but the flakes slowed in the air, hanging around him like pale dust.
Kian’s eyes lifted.
A woman stood in front of him.
She was made of moonlight and cold beauty. Her hair fell long and silver around her, and her eyes looked like the night sky had been frozen inside them. She did not step through the snow. She stood above it. Around her, the blood on the ground looked darker, and the screams of the battlefield seed thin and distant.
The moon goddess looked down at him.
Her expression held no pity.
"So this is what you have beco," she said.
Kian’s claws scraped against stone.
He knew this was not a normal vision.
He also knew ignoring her would not end well.
Still, he tried to look away.
The moon goddess smiled faintly. "You cannot even look at now?"
Kian forced his bleeding mouth to move. His voice ca out as a low growl because he was still in lion form. "Leave."
"You neglect your duties and still command ?" she asked. "You were chosen as a vessel. You were made to kill. You were made to stand on battlefields until even stronger beasts lowered their heads before you. Yet here you are, ruling a small village and bleeding because your mind is inside a birthing room."
Kian’s eyes turned colder.
The moon goddess stepped closer. The snow did not touch her.
"You were not made for soft walls, warm fires, and a pregnant female’s tears. You were made for war. You were made to be sharp. I chose you because you could beco a blade."
Kian’s breathing beca heavier.
He wanted to ignore her. He truly wanted to. Because every word she said pressed against sothing old inside him, sothing he had never fully understood but had always felt. The blood inside him was not only beast blood. There was sothing colder. Sothing older. Sothing that had always reacted to battle and blood.
But Isabella’s voice in his mind was louder.
She would not care about that.
If she were here, she would probably tell the goddess to stop disturbing injured people and get out of the way.
The thought made sothing in his chest ache.
The moon goddess’s expression hardened. "Do not think of her."
Kian’s lips curled back, showing blood-stained teeth.
The goddess’s eyes flashed. "Love makes vessels weak."
Kian’s claws dug deeper into the ground.
At the sa ti, the mountain ridge beast broke through the inner path.
The huge beast had already shattered its enclosure, and now it was moving toward the palace with heavy steps that shook the ground. Its fur was covered in snow, broken wood, and streaks of blood from attackers who had gotten in its way. The beast did not attack villagers on purpose, but it was too big and too frightened. A few defenders who tried to stop it were knocked aside and injured simply because they could not move fast enough.
"Move away from it!" soone shouted.
"Do not hurt it! Lady Isabella saved that beast!"
The warning passed too late for so and fast enough for others.
The mountain ridge beast kept moving.
It did not understand the battle. It did not understand politics or First City or Zara’s plans. It only knew that the air slled wrong, the ground shook with danger, and the female who had once touched its wounded head and fed it warm mash was screaming sowhere inside the stone palace.
It believed that where Isabella was, safety existed.
So it tried to get to her.
The beast crashed through the lower palace entrance, breaking part of the wooden fra. Guards scattered out of its way. So attackers inside the hall turned and ran. One was too slow, and the beast’s horn caught him from the side, throwing him into the wall with a sickening sound.
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