Chapter 47 Try Harder

"There's our wonderful ladies in the house!"

Ophelia jumped when she heard a booming greeting. She raised her head to see tens, if not, hundreds of men gathered at one of the dining halls. She realized that Mirabelle had dragged them here, but wasn't sure why.

Ophelia saw Mirabelle's eyes quickly searching the crowd, almost looking for someone. After a few seconds, Mirabelle's shoulders dropped and she frowned.

"I-is there someone y-you're waiting for?" Ophelia asked.

"No," Mirabelle quickly said. "Enjoy your meals!"

Without another word, Mirabelle turned with Ophelia in tow.

Ophelia glanced over her shoulder to see half of the men were watching her. They were filled with curiosity, despite stuffing their stomachs full with food. She nervously swallowed. She should say something.

"I-is the food to your liking?" Ophelia timidly asked the closest soldier to her.

Immediately, the young boy scrambled out of his seat, his eyes wide. His helmet loudly clattered onto the floor, the bouncing sound silencing the room. She cringed at the noise and awkwardly cleared her throat.

"Y-you're talking to me, Luna?" the young boy asked with large eyes, his voice coming out breathless.

"Oye, stop oogling your Luna!" his peer chided, clapping him on the back. "Hurry and tell the Luna how delicious the food is."

"T-the food is delicious, Luna!" the boy shouted with a salute, as if she was his military sergeant.

Ophelia blinked. She realized the ones that call her Luna must've been werewolves.

"Sigh, this one is an idiot," his friend muttered, facepalming at how quickly he blushed.

Laughter roared across the table as they jeered and teased the boy for his mistake. Even his friends nudged him, despite how crimson his cheeks were stained.

"M-my apologies, Luna," the boy shyly admitted with trembling eyes and a lowered head.

"O-oh, i-it is quite alright," Ophelia softly said with a slight smile.

Immediately, his gaze widened. Even his friends stopped laughing, as their attention fell solely on her. She thought a few of them even breathed in. She wondered why they appeared awestruck.

"Day one and you already have these pups smitten by you," Mirabelle whispered with a slight snicker to her tone.

Ophelia flushed bright red and shook her head in denial. Just then, the doors to the dining hall opened again, and another group of hungry trainees flooded in.

"And then I was like, you should've seen Alpha two years ago! He moved like whoosh," a boy chided in that group, dodging his body. "Then rah! He pounces on—"

He stopped dead in his tracks. He was almost shoved to the ground, for everyone had walked into him.

"Who the hell even stops in the middle of walking? This ain't a novel, hurry up!" his friend cried out, nudging him to continue the story.

"T-the Luna… I-I mean, o-our Luna… a goddess, no, no, I, uh—We greet your Grace, our Luna!" he loudly shouted, bowing so deeply, his helmet rolled off his head.

CLATTER!

There was a dead silence.

Without warning, roaring laughter filled the room as they jeered at the soldier.

"P-please sit and e-enjoy your meal," Ophelia gently said, chuckling under her breath. She realized all of the must've been flustered by her presence.

"O-oh we definitely will, Luna…" he whispered, almost awestruck by the sight of her. "Y-you smell like our Alpha."

Ophelia blinked. Did she? She sniffed the air, but couldn't find any scent of brisk winter.

"What is all this commotion?" An icy voice commented.

Immediately, everyone's attention returned to the food. They pretended the lady wasn't even here. All at once, they were hungry and shoved their lunch into the mouth to not answer their Alpha's dangerous question. The ceiling and floor became the most interesting topic of their discussion.

"M-my lord…" Ophelia warily said, just as Mirabelle groaned.

"You ruined the atmosphere, brother," Mirabelle complained.

"And you shouldn't be here ruining their meal," Killorn deadpanned. "Hurry to the other banquet."

Ophelia didn't need to be told twice. With her eyes glued to the door, she hurriedly made her escape. Her attempts were futile. The second she brushed past Killorn, he grabbed her wrist.

Ophelia gasped, but kept her head bowed. She heard his sharp exhale. A slight growl tore through his chest. Without warning, he yanked her away from Mirabelle and pulled her to the direction of the exit.

"Go get 'em, Alpha!" A brave soul cried out.

Immediately, Killorn barked out an order. "Twenty laps in the snow!"

"Way to go, Beetle," another voice complained, just a thump was heard.

"Anywhere but the face, Doofus! I don't want to look as ugly as you—ow!"

Ophelia flinched when she heard another crash from behind her. Poor Beetle. His face was slammed in the door this morning and she was pretty sure her husband punched him in the face too. Just as Killorn was about to whisk Ophelia out of the soldiers' dining hall, Gerald walked in.

"Alpha, Everest sent another letter just now," Gerald stated in a gruff and low voice, his bushy beard moving with each word. He revealed the rolled up parchment in his palm, tied by royal colors of red and gold.

"He has some guts cockblocking me all the way from the empire," Killorn growled under his breath. He bent his head in Ophelia's direction.

"Wait for me with Mirabelle. If a boy steps out of line, you tell me, okay? I'll handle it," Killorn murmured.

Ophelia quickly nodded. "O-oh, but the soldiers a-are so sweet."

Killorn's irritated expression softened for the briefest moment. He even smiled a bit, the corners of his scowl lifting.

"Only to you, my sweet," Killorn whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

Ophelia was starstruck. She didn't think he was the kind of man to kiss his wife in public. Some found it emasculating and others would rather break their wife's heart than let their underlings see them this weak. Killorn didn't seem to mind, for he even ruffled her hair and then, left with Gerald.

"...the departure…"

Ophelia was about to go back to Mirabelle. She raised her head and saw Mirabelle had a boy in a headlock with her arms, laughing and teasing the soldier who threw his hands in an attempt to get her off.

"Try harder!" Mirabelle encouraged.

"You try to fight a girl without questioning your morals!" the boy shouted as an excuse.

Mirabelle snorted. "Horrible excuse."

Seeing as Mirabelle was occupied, Ophelia immediately snuck out. She had been intrigued by the conversation about the departure. Was there new information about the trip to the empire?

- - - - -

"Reagan sent word that he's located the bottles. His magic was able to detect it even from that tiny droplet of sample you provided him, quite impressive, given the magician's old age," Gerald informed Killorn as they walked up the stairs in the direction of the Alpha's private study. When the two were alone, Killorn preferred for there to be honorifics, as they had been buddies for as long as both of them could remember.

"Beetle is going to get it tonight," Gerald stated. "We'll have it back by tomorrow morning."

Killorn nodded in confirmation. "Good."

Killorn continued the ascend whilst unraveling the message from Everest. As he read through the contents, his brows tugged further together.

"Son of a—" Killorn gritted his teeth whilst crumbling the parchment in his palms.

"They know, don't they?" Gerald grimly said. "Ever since you sent word of it and masked her with your scent, our soldiers don't suspect anything about her flesh and blood. They think she's just a normal human."

"She is a normal human," Killorn commanded.

Gerald flinched, his entire spine going rigid. He felt his bone nearly cracking on the spot, for the Wolf's Sovereignty had just sparked in the air.

Killorn released a sharp sign. "She's my wife, Gerald," he admitted in a solemn voice, realizing he had lost his temper again. He seldom did it around his men, besides the jab to do more exercises or laps in the morning, but that was always in good nature.

"Of course," Gerald softly said. "You cherish her. I've known you since we were in diapers. It's been twenty-too-fucking-long-eight years since I've known you. Yet, I've never seen you as happy as you are now in the past few days."

Killorn rolled his eyes. "When you have my childhood, there is nothing to be happy about."

Gerald quirked a brow. "Matter of fact, I'm pretty sure the first time I ever saw you smile was when you first met—"

"Enough," Killorn deadpanned. "We don't need to walk down memory lane."

Gerald's lips twitched. He usually wore it in a firm and grim line, for he was Second-in-Command he always tried to be serious. His image was that of a grumpy bear, rarely smiling, rarely joking, unless it was with Beetle. At times, people would even complain he was stricter than the Alpha himself.

"I was certain they were tortured beyond repair," Killorn muttered to Gerald. "We captured a few of the audience half-alive before burning them to death. Not a single person made it out alive from the auction house."

"Except one person," Gerald reminded.

"He's a sneaky bastard who's head I'd love to decorate my walls with," Killorn deadpanned in agreement. "But he's not stupid enough to spread the news knowing I'd come for his life."

​ "Always so fearless," Gerald sighed with a shake of his head. "You'd even fathom murdering a royal, not to mention, he is the overlord's—"

"It has to be the Decade Tribute Ceremony," Killorn decided. "Everyone saw her."

Gerald's throat tightened. "I'm sorry," he quickly said. "If I wasn't for the sighting, I—"

"You've reflected on your mistakes," Killorn coldly said. "And paid for it too, alongside Maribelle. There was nothing that could be done."

Killorn pressed his lips together and sharply turned to Gerald. "I've made up my mind."

"Yes, Alpha?" Gerald stated.

"Not just Helios Empire's Alphas and Vampire Heads were present at the ceremony," Killorn stated. "Delegates from bordering nations also came. It's no wonder Everest warned me that word of Ophelia has spread across the continent."

"But we're not sure if she's actually a Direct Descendant," Gerald deadpanned. "There are many out there with purple or silver hair, it's sometimes a genetic defect. There were many captured in the past who has either traits and—"

"War is bound to be waged, Gerald," Killorn lifelessly stated, his voice cutting through the atmosphere. "And if it means keeping Ophelia by my side, I'll lead the entire army to battle. No one will touch her. I made an oath and I intend to keep it."

A soft gasp could be heard. Killorn swiveled around, wondering who the hell dared to spy on them. He saw her try to run, but no one could ever match his speed. He dashed down the stairs and right as she turned a corner on the steps, he yanked her by her nape.

Killorn gritted his teeth. Who else could be bold enough to eavesdrop like that.

"Ophelia?" he demanded.

Ophelia swallowed hard. She had just been caught red-handed. And her husband was far from pleased.