Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate-Chapter 316: The Blood Moon Child Returns

Everyone trained. Everyone practiced. Everyone pushed their limits to build stamina, even though it meant burning through more of the costly artificial blood.

Officially, it was the Nightshade Coven footing the bill—but in truth, it was just Ulysses, Sandor, and Madam Silvia covering the expense. Still, for the sake of appearances, let’s say the coven took care of it.

Under the guidance of Lisbeth and with permission from Lady Maris—who, for the time being, controlled the monarch’s coffers—the kingdom supplied new, polished war equipment.

Healers were summoned as well, though they proved to be the greatest expense. Most feared the looming war, but fortunately, the lure of gold outweighed their reluctance.

Generals of the Nightwarden, including Sir Kai—recently promoted—took charge of training both commoners and unseasoned vampires eager to volunteer.

This sudden surge of recruits could be traced back to Sandor. His soaring morale and masterful oratory had produced one of the most stirring speeches anyone had ever heard.

He framed the coming battle as a shared victory, one that belonged not just to the monarch or the military, but to every citizen. Everyone had a part to play. Even those far from the front lines could contribute to the cause.

"If you’re skilled in brewing potions, then brew! Deliver them to the palace by week’s end. If you’re handy with a needle, sew us cloaks to guard against the sun. If you’re a blacksmith, forge the armor that will keep us alive," he had thundered from the town square.

Everything was functioning as it should, progressing as smoothly as possible.

Yet, one undeniable problem remained—King Valentin still hadn’t regained consciousness. The same grim fate had befallen Margrave Boris, who hadn’t opened his eyes since the moment he collapsed after the battle with Florian.

"We can’t act without the king," Elijah said grimly. "Even though he’s implicitly asked for our aid, marching to war without him would mean violating the very laws we put in place."

"Can’t the princess take command in his stead?" Sandor countered, his voice taut with frustration. "This is no time for lounging lazily. Every hour we wait puts us further behind. We have no idea when His Majesty will wake—what if it’s not days, but months? Or a year?"

There had been rare cases like this before. When the wounds inflicted were too grave, or the shock too great, some vampires simply refused to return to life.

It was unthinkable—a king paralyzed by trauma—but none could deny King Valentin’s injuries were dire. And judging by the state Lisbeth had been in when she finally stirred, the elders whispered that Florian’s power had cut deeper than mere flesh.

As for Margrave Boris... the latter explanation seemed far more likely.

"We can’t afford to wait," Sandor pressed, his eyes hard. "By the time the king opens his eyes, the demon and Emperor Kaan could have already conquered the world."

Ulysses remained silent. He understood Sandor’s argument, and in truth, he agreed with him. But Elijah’s caution held weight as well.

They weren’t just commanders—they were the leaders of all vampirekind. Every vampire on earth looked to them, listened to them, shaped their behavior around their example. If they turned their backs on their own decrees now, what would future generations say? What would it mean for their authority?

The room was heavy with unspoken conflict when a servant appeared, bowing low before them.

"Your Excellencies," the Royal Guard announced, voice steady but urgent. "Lady Maris requests your attention. The key figure in this war has arrived."

Without hesitation, Lady Maris herself swept in moments later, offering a sharp bow before addressing the elders directly.

"The Blood Moon child is here," she declared.

***

It had been over five years since Riona last set foot in this place. Some details had shifted, subtle changes here and there—but overall, it was almost untouched by time. She moved through the familiar corridors, her eyes unconsciously cataloging what remained the same and what had changed.

The faces of the Royal Guards stationed around the palace were strangers to her now, as were those who stood at the gates. She searched the passing servants but found none she recognized.

Yet what struck her most wasn’t who was missing, but how differently she was received. No one dared call her Fangless anymore. There were no furtive whispers, no sidelong glances followed by stifled laughter.

This time, every servant she passed bowed deeply, treating her not as an outcast, but as an honored guest.

"Please, this way, My Lady," a maid said, gesturing toward a large oak door at the end of the hallway.

Riona’s gaze lingered on it. She recognized it immediately—it was the largest door along these walls, impossible to forget. She had spent her entire childhood here; of course she remembered.

Behind that door lay the private salon, the room reserved for high-ranking visitors and confidential meetings with King Valentin. Less formal than the grand meeting hall, but far more comfortable—a place tailored for foreign delegates and important guests during extended stays.

She braced herself, expecting to see familiar faces: her uncle, his mistress, the princess, perhaps a handful of the king’s trusted officials.

But as she stepped inside, she found none of them. The only face she recognized was Lady Maris.

Riona hesitated by the door, unsure. She didn’t recognize the others gathered in the room, and her court manners had never been her strongest suit. For a moment, she simply stood there, uncertain, her hands at her sides.

Lady Maris crossed the room and gave her a gentle nudge with her elbow. "Pay your respects to the elders of the Nightshade Coven," she murmured under her breath.

Only then did Riona realize whose company she was in. She inclined her head in a polite bow. She respected the elders—after all, they were the ones who had created vampires in the first place—but to her, they seemed no different from any other vampires she’d known. None of them carried themselves in a way that demanded deference.

None, that is, except for one—the sole female elder among them. There was something about her presence, an unspoken authority that made it nearly impossible for Riona to meet her gaze for long.

The female elder’s eyes swept over Riona, assessing her from head to toe as if weighing her worth. Her gaze was cool, deliberate—a silent judgment. Finally, she spoke, her voice low but laced with undeniable authority.

"You’re here to defeat the demon, I assume."

Even her tone carried power, thick and commanding. Riona nodded without hesitation. Strangely, she didn’t feel the same suffocating pressure she often felt around her uncle. This elder, though formidable, stirred something closer to admiration.

"Yes, Your Excellency. I was delayed by unforeseen events, but I’m here now. We should depart immediately—I’m certain His Majesty wouldn’t tolerate further tardiness."

A strange silence followed. The elders exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable, something unspoken passing between them. Confusion prickled at Riona’s senses. She turned instinctively to Lady Maris, silently urging her for an explanation.

Lady Maris sighed, her gaze softening slightly. "Ah... You wouldn’t have known. His Majesty is gravely wounded. He’s still unconscious."

Before Riona could process the news, one of the male elders spoke, his voice deep and resolute. "We cannot move without him. It would be a violation of the laws we ourselves uphold."