Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King's Slave Island Chapter 187

Mordred's POV

Two days had passed since the disastrous council meeting, two days of careful planning and delicate negotiations. Two days during which I'd barely slept, my mind torn between the looming political crisis and the persistent, maddening thoughts of Natasha.

But today, I had to focus. Today was crucial.

I stood on the deck of the royal ship as it approached Ashclaw Island, watching the dense forests of Fergus's territory come into view through the morning mist. Ship took me to Ashclaw much faster.

The island was aptly named—the trees here were ancient and gnarled, their branches reaching toward the sky like claws grasping at the heavens.

"We'll be docking in ten minutes, Your Majesty," Captain Vane informed me.

I nodded, my jaw tight with tension. Everything depended on today's meeting with Gregor. If I could secure his support, we'd have a fighting chance against Sebastian. If not...

I pushed the thought away. Failure wasn't an option.

The ship docked at Fergus's private harbor, and I disembarked with only a small retinue of guards. This meeting needed to appear casual, friendly—not a desperate plea for military alliance, even though that's exactly what it was.

Fergus was waiting for me at the dock, his massive frame somehow managing to look both imposing and welcoming. He bowed respectfully, though there was concern in his eyes.

"Your Majesty," he greeted. "Welcome to Ashclaw."

"Fergus," I clasped his forearm in the traditional warrior's greeting. "Thank you for arranging this meeting."

"Of course. Lord Gregor should arrive within the hour. I've prepared the great hall for your discussion." He paused, lowering his voice. "How are you feeling, sire?"

I knew what he was really asking. How was I handling the aftermath of the council meeting? How was I coping with the obsessive thoughts of that woman?

"I'm fine," I lied. "Focused on what matters."

Fergus didn't look convinced, but he didn't press the issue. Instead, he led me into his castle—a formidable structure of gray stone that had stood for over two centuries.

The great hall was impressive, with high ceilings supported by massive wooden beams and walls adorned with weapons and hunting trophies. A large table had been set up in the center, with three chairs arranged around it.

"I've had my best wine brought up from the cellar," Fergus said. "And the kitchen is preparing a feast for after your discussion."

"That won't be necessary," I said. "This isn't a social visit."

"I know, sire. But appearances matter. If this meeting looks too urgent, too desperate, Gregor will sense weakness."

He was right, of course. Fergus was always right about these things.

We waited in tense silence, and I found my mind wandering despite my best efforts. I wondered what Natasha was doing right now. Was she fully recovered from her heat? Was she thinking of me? Did she remember those two days with the same burning intensity that I did?

"Your Majesty?"

I snapped back to attention. "What?"

"I asked if you'd given any thought to what you'll offer Gregor," Fergus said patiently.

"Everything," I said flatly. "Tax exemptions, trade privileges, expanded territory. Whatever he wants."

Fergus frowned. "That's... generous. Perhaps too generous. If you give away too much—"

"I don't care," I interrupted. "I need his support, Fergus. Without it, we're finished."

Before Fergus could respond, a servant entered and bowed. "My lords, Lord Gregor's ship has been sighted. He'll be here within minutes."

"Good," I said, straightening my posture and forcing my mind to focus. "Fergus, go prepare the wine. I want everything perfect when he arrives."

Fergus hesitated for just a moment, and I saw something flicker in his eyes—concern? suspicion?—but then he nodded and left the hall.

I paced the room, rehearsing my arguments in my head. Gregor was pragmatic, calculating. He wouldn't be swayed by appeals to loyalty or tradition. I needed to make him see that supporting me was in his best interest, that Sebastian's regime would be unstable and dangerous.

The main doors opened, and Lord Gregor entered.

He was a lean man, tall and angular, with sharp features and calculating gray eyes. Everything about him was precise, measured—from his perfectly tailored clothes to his controlled movements.

"Your Majesty," he said, bowing with exactly the right degree of deference. Not too deep, not too shallow.

"Lord Gregor," I gestured to one of the chairs. "Please, sit. Thank you for coming."

"Of course." He sat down gracefully, his eyes taking in every detail of the room. "I must admit, I was surprised by your invitation. These are... turbulent times."

"Which is exactly why we need to talk," I said, taking my own seat across from him. "I'm sure you're aware of Lord Sebastian's ambitions."

"I'm aware of many things, Your Majesty." His expression gave nothing away.

"Then you know he's preparing for war. Building armies, stockpiling weapons, recruiting allies."

"I know he's taking precautions," Gregor said carefully. "As are we all, in these uncertain times."

I leaned forward. "Gregor, I'm not here to play word games. I need to know where you stand. Will you support your King, or will you side with a traitor?"

For a long moment, Gregor said nothing. Then he smiled slightly. "Your Majesty, with all due respect, the question isn't about loyalty. It's about survival. Sebastian has twenty thousand troops. You have five thousand. The mathematics are... unfavorable."