Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate-Chapter 318: No Room for Hesitation

Lisbeth’s authority carried more weight than Lady Maris’s, though it still fell beneath that of the king. Yet, if one wished to stretch the argument, they could claim Lisbeth’s current decisions deserved deference, especially given the absence of any monarch fit to rule or act decisively.

For once, Madam Silvia was inclined to accept Lisbeth’s word and focus on the far more pressing matter of saving the world. Riona was right—laws could always be rewritten.

Besides, surely there had to be room for exceptions in a crisis like this. It would be absurd to think the vampires would quibble over legal technicalities at a time so dire.

She shot Ulysses a look, the weight of her gaze pressing him to yield. After a tense pause, he relented, siding with her judgment. He trusted her instincts—and he understood the urgency.

"Very well. We leave now."

"But—"

"Griswold, enough," Ulysses cut in firmly. "My decision is made. It would be a disgrace for our coven to stand idle while a young emperor plays recklessly with a weapon of such danger."

That silenced any further protest. With their leader’s word final, the rest of the coven had no choice but to fall in line.

***

Lady Maris worked diligently on drafting the decree as Lisbeth prepared to depart. She had already instructed Cielo and Lumi to ready themselves. Ever since she’d awakened, Lisbeth had warned them both to stay prepared—summons could come at any moment, and when they did, she expected no hesitation.

Meanwhile, the elders moved efficiently through their tasks. Some focused on tending to King Valentin, ensuring the royal physicians had clear instructions to hasten his recovery. Others busied themselves gathering supplies and organizing resources.

Outside, Sir Kai oversaw groups of commoner volunteers, directing them through the palace gates to be outfitted with armor and weapons.

Amid the bustle of the palace grounds, Riona stood with the two werewolves, speaking in hushed tones. She relayed the words the Fallen One had whispered to her. She served as a translator between the ancestor and the werewolves now.

"He knows how to save Florian, right?" Thorin asked, sounding oddly assured in the aid of their invisible ancestor.

Riona crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. "Don’t get your hopes up. He’s all talk, no action. Honestly, I’ve never gotten anything useful out of him. Just look at him—or rather, you can’t, can you? No body, no real presence... what’s he supposed to do?"

Thorin glanced around, squinting at the empty air, trying to guess where the ancestor might be floating. He was far off the mark. In truth, the Fallen One was drifting near the Nightshade Coven elders, entirely unnoticed.

The original vampires... Even during the Fallen One’s lifetime, he’d never laid eyes on them. The Nightshade Coven had kept its doors tightly shut. After crafting the laws that preserved the vampire world, they vanished—hiding in plain sight, perhaps, slipping seamlessly into society under false names and carefully constructed identities.

They had assumed the title of ’elders’ naturally, by virtue of being the ten original vampires. Yet, never once had they flaunted their power or manipulated their position for personal gain.

Troublesome as some may be—ahem, Griswold—they weren’t power-hungry. They were content in the shadows, pulling strings discreetly, ensuring their influence was felt but never seen.

Until now. The chaos had dragged them out of hiding, leaving them no choice.

The Fallen One studied each of them carefully, taking in faces he had never seen when he walked the earth. His thoughts wandered to Riona, and he couldn’t help but shake his head. He had chastised her earlier for the way she snapped at the elders.

These were her predecessors, after all. Yet she treated them like inconsequential pests.

"She has no idea how formidable the original vampires truly are," he murmured to himself. Of course, no one heard. Not even Riona—he hovered too far for his words to reach her.

Once he’d finished observing the ten original vampires, the Fallen One drifted back to Riona’s side. By now, she had finished badmouthing him, and the conversation had shifted to more pressing matters.

They were brainstorming ways to kill the demon without harming Florian. Unfortunately, every idea hit a dead end.

"Lisbeth tried to kill Florian to take down the demon," Riona said, frustration creeping into her voice. "But it didn’t work. Ol’gaz was too strong for her."

Deep down, she was relieved that Florian had managed to defend himself—even if it was technically Ol’gaz doing the defending, not Florian.

Still, the important thing was that Florian had survived. Yet, a twinge of guilt tugged at her. She couldn’t ignore how much Lisbeth had suffered in her desperate attempts to subdue the demon.

"Hey, ancestor!" Riona called out, her voice edged with impatience. "How about a hint or two? We’re clearly stuck here. What do you expect me to do when I face the demon—ask him nicely to let Florian go?"

She crossed her arms, her glare sweeping the empty air. "You don’t seriously think I’m going to attack my own brother, do you? No matter who’s in control, that body belongs to Florian. I won’t lay so much as a scratch on him."

"Do you think I’d stay quiet if I actually knew?" the Fallen One snapped back.

After relaying his words to the werewolves, Riona threw up her hands. "See? Useless. Here’s all we’ve got: Ol’gaz is basically the nastiest demon out there. Ridiculously strong—it even fed on vampires."

Thorin hesitated, then offered, "Should we call in the pack? I’m sure Trudy wouldn’t think twice. She’d come running."

Riona spun toward him, eyes flashing. "And risk her getting ripped apart again? No way. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to her—again."

Thorin’s expression darkened. Beside him, Puck shot him a sideways glance, something tightening in his chest. Why did it feel like Thorin was holding something back? Still, with Riona right there, he kept quiet.

The Fallen One’s voice floated in again, calm but pointed. "Recall your dreams. They’re Florian’s cry for help. You might find something useful."

Riona grimaced. The dreams were nothing but shadows and fear—terrifying, but vague. All she ever remembered was Florian’s terror and her own helplessness. It was dark, empty. And the darkness? It didn’t seem to mean anything. At least, not that they could decipher.

So, they left the kingdom without a solid plan, uncertain how the Blood Moon child was supposed to defeat Ol’gaz and save Florian.

"Well, we’ll figure it out when the time comes," Riona muttered, adjusting the strap of her bag as she led the group past the palace gates.

A few steps behind, Puck leaned closer to Thorin, his voice low. "What’s wrong? What aren’t you telling her?"

Thorin’s gaze dropped, guilt flickering in his eyes. "Actually..."