Chapter 40

The next few hours were an absolute headache.

Cassie fussed over every little detail—my clothes, my hair, even the way I breathed. She ranted nonstop about how my earlier “stunt” with Brakthar had cost her valuable time—time she could have spent getting herself ready for the banquet.

I didn’t argue. I simply nodded and kept quiet. I’ve learned that sometimes silence is the wiser option ... especially when your wife is Cassie.

After what felt like an eternity—though in truth, just over three long hours—I was finally declared “presentable” by her highness. Apparently, that was the highest form of praise I could expect under such tense grooming circumstances.

Cassie offered me a formal coat, but I politely declined. Instead, I chose to wear the phoenix feather cloak my sister Lyra had gifted me. It radiated a gentle warmth and shimmered faintly with golden-red hues—perfect for the evening. I strapped the oath blade dagger to my right side, its presence grounding me with both purpose and memory.

With about a bell’s time left before the banquet, I excused myself.

Cassie narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “If you get that outfit dirty, or the cloak even slightly wrinkled, I will personally kill you in a thousand ways. Don’t test me, husband.”

I just smiled and reassured her, “I’ll be fine.”

Then I ran—well, half-jogged—toward my domain, enjoying the slight breeze and a few moments of freedom.

As I arrived, the people in my domain noticed me immediately. One by one, they stepped out of their homes and stalls, heads slightly bowed in respectful greeting. It filled my heart with a warmth I couldn’t describe. I was their prince, yes—but they treated me like one of their own.

I made my way straight to Demtree—the sanctuary where all of my bonded beasts resided. Using the mind link, I began chatting with them one by one.

That’s when I got my first surprise.

Brakthar was dressed.

Not just presentable—he was party-ready, wearing finely tailored attire that looked oddly noble for someone of his feral appearance. It almost made me laugh. Almost. He stood tall with all four arms folded proudly, clearly proud of himself.

Before I could comment, Draxie swooped down and nestled into my hood like a spoiled cat made of scales and elemental fury. Meanwhile, Zaphryon, Chiri, and Sapphire silently entered my dimensional space, choosing to stay hidden until needed.

I turned to leave—and froze.

Behind me stood a company from each division of my army.

The beastfolk lancers, the werewolf hunters, the aerial squad, the minotaur axemen ... they were all lined up, standing still in parade formation, eyes locked on me. Uniformed. Alert. Proud.

Ready.

I was so dumbfounded I just stood there, staring like an idiot.

Then, someone gently nudged me from behind, and I instinctively started walking. As I passed each squad, they raised their fists or paws or claws in salute—an unspoken promise of loyalty and strength.

It wasn’t just a greeting.

It was their way of saying: We follow you. Wherever you go. Whatever you face.

And in that moment, I knew—I wasn’t alone.

I waved to the troops with a soft smile and made my way toward the castle, entering through the private door that had been built specifically for me. A quiet entrance—no guards, no trumpets, just the familiar warmth of my own passage.

When I reached my room, Cassie let out a long, exaggerated sigh, clearly bracing for the worst. She glanced at my cloak and outfit, gave me a once-over, and exhaled in relief.

“Thank the heavens,” she muttered. “You didn’t get it dirty.”

Before I could respond, her eyes widened. Her gaze locked on something behind me.

“What is Brakthar doing here? And ... why in the world is he dressed for the banquet?!”

Before I could offer an explanation, Brakthar responded on his own, his deep voice booming with simplicity and conviction.

“Brakthar bonded. Brakthar follow.”

Cassie’s hands flew to her hips. “No, Brakthar. You can’t just follow. This is a formal royal banquet. You’re not allowed.”

Brakthar’s eyes narrowed. “Brakthar follow. No one stop. Brakthar fight to death. Wife not stop Brakthar. If denied, Brakthar angry. Brakthar no follow. Brakthar destroy.”

Cassie’s mouth opened slightly, caught somewhere between shock and speechlessness.

I raised a hand gently. “Leave it, Cassie. He’ll behave. I give you my word.”

She looked from me to Brakthar and back again, muttering, “He better not interfere.”

With that matter settled—mostly—we began walking toward the grand hall.

As we reached the grand double doors, two royal announcers stood at the ready. With ceremonious flair, our presence was proclaimed to those gathered within.

The doors opened slowly, revealing the Great Hall of Aldrenour in all its opulence. Crystal chandeliers sparkled above us like captured stars. The long marble floor gleamed beneath our boots. It was the first time I had entered this hall—not just as a prince, but as myself. As Asher.

Cassie walked beside me, composed and radiant. I glanced behind me and was surprised to find Angela had joined us, walking with a proud stride. Brakthar, ever alert, stood tall just behind me.

Through the mind link, I sent him a quick message:
“Angela is ... like Cassie. Treat her the same way. Understood?”

He didn’t respond verbally but gave a curt nod and remained silent, following at a respectful distance. The tension in his frame relaxed slightly.

I made my way across the hall toward the raised dais where my family awaited. Their eyes were already on me. My mother smiled warmly, my father gave an approving nod, and my siblings—well, their expressions ranged from teasing smirks to open pride.

I stepped forward and bowed respectfully.
“Father. Mother. I greet you.”

“Welcome, Asher,” my father replied with calm authority. “We’ve been waiting.”

I shook hands with my brothers and sisters, exchanging warm smiles and a few whispered words of encouragement. Then I took my place beside them, standing proudly but humbly, facing the gathered crowd of nobles, guests, and dignitaries.

The Grand Hall fell into a hush.

At that moment, my mother stepped forward gracefully, her regal presence commanding the attention of every soul in the room. She stood at the edge of the dais, her eyes scanning the crowd before she began to speak.

“As you all know, today we have gathered to celebrate a special occasion—an event both formal and deeply personal. Today marks the first step in the royal journey of my seventh child, Prince Asher, as he selects those who will stand by his side. His concubines, and yes, even a wife.”

A ripple of excitement moved through the hall.

“But before we begin,” she continued, her voice softening, “I would like to share something from my heart. Asher is not just my son by title—he is my sister’s only child, born far from the grandeur of this castle. Until just twelve suns ago, he lived the life of a commoner, a life far removed from royal halls and courtly customs.”

She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in.

“But now, he stands here as a prince of Aldrenour—strong, thoughtful, and wise beyond his years. And though tradition allows a prince nineteen concubines, I must ask for your understanding. This night may not see all nineteen slots filled. He will choose not out of formality, but from the heart.”

There was a murmur of approval from the nobles.

“Now,” she added with a subtle smile, “you may be pleased to know that my other sons have expressed their own interest in choosing companions this evening. Likewise, my daughters have shown interest in selecting handmaidens and lifelong friends among the candidates. A few noble houses have even approached us, wishing to present their daughters as potential wives.”

The air thickened with anticipation.

“Before we begin tonight’s festivities,” she said, raising a hand slightly, “I have two announcements to make, both regarding my son Asher.”

Her eyes turned to me, full of pride and warmth.

“First—he has already chosen a young woman to become his wife. And second—he has selected his first concubine.”

A wave of polite surprise, followed by applause, rolled across the hall.

Then, stepping forward with poise and authority, my father raised his goblet and declared, “Let the festivities begin!”

The crowd erupted into cheers, the musicians struck up a lively tune, and the grand banquet of selection, celebration, and destiny began in earnest.

As the festivities began, the atmosphere in the grand hall shifted into one of celebration and movement. Circles formed throughout the space—guests mingled, laughed, and discussed matters of alliance and affection. My parents descended from the dais, moving with grace among the nobles of their own age, engaging in polite conversations and subtle diplomacy.

My brothers and sisters scattered into the crowd, each pursuing their own intentions—some in search of potential partners, others simply enjoying the revelry.