Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King's Slave Island Chapter 127

Fergus's POV

The fire in my private chambers had burned down to embers, casting the room in flickering shadows that matched the darkness of my thoughts. I sat in the high-backed chair near the hearth, a goblet of untouched wine in my hand, staring into the dying flames.

The Council had spoken. The decree had been issued. In a matter of days—perhaps weeks—they would come for Mordred with weapons forged to pierce his hide, with warriors trained to exploit his weaknesses, with the full backing of Council law.

And I would have to choose: stand aside and watch them execute the King I'd sworn to protect, or commit treason and die fighting for a lost cause.

The choice was simpler than it should have been.

I would fight. I would die if necessary. But I wouldn't stand idle while they butchered Mordred like an animal.

The strategy was already forming with cold precision. Sebastian was the linchpin—remove him, and the coalition might fracture. Without his driving ambition and political maneuvering, some lords might reconsider, might hesitate long enough for me to find another solution.

So I would kill Sebastian first. Strike fast, strike hard, before he could rally his forces. It would be a declaration of war, a point of no return, but at least it would give Mordred a fighting chance.

A knock at the door interrupted my dark musings. The door opened, and Matilda entered, her pregnant belly preceding her into the room. She moved with careful grace, one hand resting protectively on the swell of her abdomen. Her eyes found mine immediately, concern written plainly across her face.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice harsher than intended. "I don't need you tonight. I'm not thirsty."

It was a blunt dismissal, but Matilda had never been easily deterred. She closed the door and settled herself into the chair opposite mine without invitation.

"I'm not here because you're thirsty," she said quietly. "I'm here because you're alone, and you shouldn't be. Not tonight."

I looked away, back toward the fire. "I prefer to be alone."

"No, you don't." Her voice was gentle but firm. "You prefer to pretend you don't need anyone, that you're strong enough to carry everything by yourself. But I know you, Fergus. I've known you for seventy years. And I know what today's Council session means to you."

"You know nothing," I said, but the words lacked conviction.

"I know the Council issued an execution decree for the King. I know you opposed it and were outvoted. I know you're sitting here in the dark, planning something foolish and probably suicidal." She leaned forward slightly. "I know you need a friend right now, even if you won't admit it."

The accuracy was unsettling. I'd always known Matilda was perceptive, but having my thoughts laid bare so casually was deeply uncomfortable.

"Leave," I said, my voice flat. "Go back to your chambers. Get some rest. You shouldn't be walking around in your condition."

"Fergus—"

"I said leave." I stood abruptly, setting the wine goblet down with force. "And send one of the serving girls on your way out. Any one will do."

Matilda's eyes widened with genuine shock. "You can't be serious."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" I turned toward the window to stare out at the dark ocean. "Send someone in."

"You want to fuck some random slave girl? Tonight? After everything that's happened?" Disbelief colored every word. "Fergus, that's not what you need—"

"It's exactly what I need," I interrupted, my voice hard. "Physical release. Distraction. Something to take my mind off things I can't control. Now are you going to do as I ask, or do I need to summon someone myself?"

The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken arguments. Finally, I heard Matilda rise from her chair with a soft grunt of effort.

"Fine," she said, her voice tight with disapproval. "If that's what you want."

The door opened and closed, and I was alone again.

Within minutes, another knock came, softer and more hesitant. A young woman I vaguely recognized from the household staff entered—dark hair, pale skin, eyes downcast in submission. She began to undress with mechanical efficiency, then moved to the bed and positioned herself on her hands and knees, face pressed against the mattress, presenting herself as she'd been trained.

I approached, shedding my robe, and positioned myself behind her. My hands found her hips, and I tried to lose myself in the familiar motions.

But my body refused to cooperate. I was barely half-hard, my arousal flagging even as I tried to force it. The woman beneath me was attractive enough, willing enough, but she wasn't—

She wasn't who I wanted.

I pulled away, stepping back from the bed. "Get dressed and leave."

The girl scrambled to obey, clearly relieved. She gathered her clothes and fled without a word.

I stood there in the middle of my chambers, naked and frustrated, staring at the rumpled bed where I'd failed to find even temporary distraction.

*Davelina is nearby. You know where.*

The thought whispered through my mind unbidden, unwelcome, undeniable. I tried to push it away, but the image of her wouldn't leave.

*Even if this is a battle we cannot possibly win, we will continue to fight.*

Her words echoed in my memory, so similar to what I'd once said to Mordred, so full of the same stubborn loyalty I'd thought extinct in this world.

I pulled on my robe with jerky movements. This was madness. I had no business going to her chambers.

But my feet were already carrying me toward the door.

I moved through the corridors with practiced silence, avoiding guards, taking servants' passages that would keep me out of sight. The eastern wing where I'd housed Davelina and her brother was quiet, most occupants already asleep.

I stopped outside her door, my hand hovering over the handle, giving myself one last chance to turn back.

Instead, I pushed the door open as quietly as I could and slipped inside.

The room was dark except for faint moonlight filtering through the small window.

Davelina was deeply asleep, her breathing slow and even, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. She looked peaceful in a way I rarely saw during waking hours, the constant tension and fear smoothed away by unconsciousness.

I stood there for a long moment, watching her sleep, asking myself what the hell I was doing here.

Then, before I could talk myself out of it, before rational thought could reassert itself, I moved to the bed and carefully lowered myself onto the mattress beside her.

*What am I doing? This is fucking insane.*