Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate-Chapter 317: Allies Forged in Fire

Upon hearing that, Riona flipped the table. The heavy oak table floundered into the air, hurtling toward Ulysses and Madam Silvia. Both instinctively raised their powers, shielding themselves just as the table threatened to crash down.

From across the room, Sandor sprang forward, slamming into the airborne furniture and shoving it aside, saving his comrades from being crushed beneath its weight.

"Riona!" Lady Maris gasped, one hand clutching her skirt, the other flying to her mouth. She stood frozen, stunned. Even knowing Riona’s unpredictable nature—and knowing she hadn’t been raised under the strict expectations of royalty—this outburst still left her reeling.

Thorin and Puck exchanged glances, equally caught off guard by Riona’s explosive reaction. But Thorin understood instantly. What seemed excessive to everyone else made perfect sense to him.

There were few things Riona valued more than herself or even food—but above all, there was her brother. Florian meant more to her than life itself. Thorin had witnessed firsthand how far she would go for him. This flash of fury was merely a glimpse of the storm she kept bottled inside.

"Laws? Did you seriously just say that?" Riona panted, her chest rising and falling as she fought the urge to leap across the room and land a punch on one of these infuriating elders.

Ulysses exhaled heavily, lips pressed into a thin line. Of all the elders, he was the most diplomatic, and so the responsibility to calm the storm naturally fell to him.

Managing idealistic, bickering elders was his specialty—how hard could handling one fiery young vampire be? Surely, this too would pass, like every other crisis he’d weathered.

"I understand your frustration, My Lady," he said smoothly, slipping into his most measured, calming tone. His voice, carefully controlled, aimed to lower the temperature before it reached boiling point. Soothing the fire, keeping peace—that was how messages got through.

"However, we can’t disregard protocols. They exist for a reason. If we—the very ones who crafted them—choose to ignore them, how can we expect the rest of our kind to abide by them?"

He spoke precisely, each word chosen like a brick in a wall—firm, unshakable. Ulysses knew from experience: boundaries, consequences, order. That was the key to understanding.

"We don’t want this kingdom slipping into chaos, disobeying laws, disregarding order. Do we?"

He finished, certain his logic would strike home.

But Riona only stared, dumbfounded. Slowly, she straightened, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.

"That’s assuming the kingdom still exists," she snapped. "What makes you so sure Eira won’t be ash by the time we finish tiptoeing through your protocols? What use are laws if there’s no one left alive to follow them?"

That hit home. Riona’s delivery was blunt, lacking all decorum—but the truth in her words was undeniable.

Even Lady Maris, usually the first to bristle at such insolence, found herself no longer concerned with Riona’s rudeness. Instead, her mind spiraled toward the terrifying possibility: what if Riona was right?

Riona exhaled sharply, her gaze hard. "Honestly, I don’t give a damn about the world," she said, voice stripped of pretense. "I’m here because Lady Maris asked—and because my brother needs me. But he’s not here. And we all know Emperor Kaan won’t release him from this torment. He’s not going to kill the demon. Whatever he’s planning with Ol’gaz, it’s nothing good."

Lady Maris tightened her grip on her skirt, her knuckles white. She swallowed hard, weighing the unspoken truth pressing against her chest. She agreed with every word.

But the king still lay bedridden—could she really leave him behind? She thought of Lisbeth, knowing full well she had been itching to act, the most eager of them all.

With a deep breath, Lady Maris forced down her nerves. Law and regulation could come later. The kingdom—and Florian—had to come first.

Straightening, she spoke clearly, her voice cutting through the room. "Your Excellencies, I hereby declare the consent of the Kingdom of Eira to pursue Florian and free him from the demon that chains him."

A beat of silence followed. Lady Maris knew full well she didn’t hold the authority to make such a declaration—but she said it anyway.

"The princess will sign the formal decree once I’ve drafted it. For now, my word will have to suffice. Prepare yourselves. I’ll have the paperwork ready by the time you leave."

The elders sat in heavy silence. Finally, Madam Silvia rose from her seat, her eyes sweeping over her peers.

"What are you waiting for?" she said crisply. "She’s made the call. We’re leaving."

Sandor was already on his feet, nodding in agreement. But they were the only ones who moved with confidence, fully trusting Lady Maris’s word.

Griswold, however, narrowed his eyes, fixing Lady Maris with a sharp glare. After a moment of tense deliberation, he spoke.

"You hold no authority in court," he said flatly. "You have no title. Your position is... ambiguous."

He wasn’t wrong. Lady Maris felt her stomach tighten, aware of how easily that fact could be used against them—or worse, jeopardize the entire mission.

"We can’t simply take your word," Griswold added, voice like stone.

Lady Maris kept her composure, though her hands clenched tightly at her sides. "Your Excellency, with respect, this situation leaves no room for standard procedure. We must act with what we have."

Elijah leaned forward, his expression unreadable. "Even if you take full responsibility," he said coolly, "there’s no guarantee your authority—or your power—will be enough to contain the disaster."

Riona let out a frustrated groan, throwing up her hands. "The only disaster you’re guaranteeing is the world burning to ash!" she snapped. "Are all elders this dense? You wrote the damn laws—you can rewrite them."

Before anyone could speak, the doors burst open. Lisbeth strode in, her steps firm, chin lifted high, radiating the poise of a true monarch.

"You’re wrong about one thing, Your Excellency," she said, her voice clear and unwavering as she faced the elders. "My mother may lack official authority, but she holds something greater—power. You wouldn’t know, not being from here. But His Majesty will move mountains for her. In that, she is the highest authority in this kingdom."

She paused, then shifted her gaze to Riona. The tension that had once crackled between them was gone. Lisbeth had long since abandoned the jealousy she’d carried—the hunger for approval, the need to measure up.

King Valentin’s affection during the war against Elder Alfred had stripped away her insecurities, leaving clarity in their place. Riona had never been the enemy. The enemy had been her own doubt.

Now, standing in this room, Lisbeth saw only an ally—a comrade.

Turning back to the elders, she lifted her chin once more.

"I, Lisbeth, de facto Princess Regent of the Kingdom of Eira, hereby declare war on Asvaldur."