CHAPTER 356: NEXT PLAN II

ADAM

The silence that followed my declaration was thick enough to cut through. No one moved. The fire crackled quietly in the hearth, a single flame popping and dying as though even it feared to disturb the stillness that had settled over the room.

But the heaviest silence came from Claire.

I didn’t have to look at her to feel the rage pouring off her in waves. It was the kind of silence that screamed, the kind that bled in the space between breaths.

I could almost picture her—her slender hands tightening around my neck, nails digging in, wanting to strangle me. She wouldn’t, of course. Fear wouldn’t let her. Not if she loved her life.

For a brief, reckless moment, I contemplated mentioning the priest’s words, the doctor’s confirmation—that Sage was my mate. But I thought better of it. No sense in adding coals to the fire already burning in this room.

My declaration alone was enough to stir the hornet’s nest. No need to set the whole place ablaze.

It was Daniel who broke the silence first.

"You’ve lost your damned mind," he said flatly, disbelief etched all over his face. "You’re really thinking of courting a woman like her? One who barely respects the crown?"

I turned my head slightly, an unnecessary smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. "I never said anything about courting," I replied evenly.

Daniel snorted, and Noah let out a short, dry laugh beside him.

"Right," Noah drawled, crossing his arms. "Because spending time with her, inviting her to our gatherings from henceforth, and staring at her like she’s the Moon Goddess herself isn’t courting

."

I ignored the bite in his tone, though it wasn’t lost on me. Their fuming faces were almost amusing.

For a second, I wondered if they were jealous. It was a fleeting thought—one I brushed aside just as quickly. I’d made that mistake once before, long ago, letting competition over a woman drive a wedge between us.

I still remembered that girl. Dora. Her laugh. The way her hair caught the light when she turned her head.

We’d all wanted her—me, Daniel, and Noah. It had been stupid. It had cost us more than pride when she died. The bitterness that followed nearly broke our bond as brothers.

Even now, the memory burned faintly at the back of my mind, a lesson carved deep. I wouldn’t let that happen again. Not over Sage.

Still, it was best I marked the territory now.

"Adam," Naomi’s soft voice broke through my thoughts. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, knuckles pale, her eyes darting between me and Claire.

"What about Claire?" she asked quietly. "Where does she fit in this... plan of yours?"

I shrugged, taking a sip from the glass I’d set down earlier, letting the burn settle before I answered. "The plan is temporary," I said simply. "We need to keep Sage in check. The best way to do that is to make her think she’s important."

I looked up then, meeting Naomi’s uncertain gaze. "And she’ll only believe that if it comes from me."

A rustle of movement followed—Daniel shifting uncomfortably, Noah exhaling, and Claire... still silent. I didn’t have to look to know she was trembling with fury.

My father, however, finally spoke. "It’s a good plan," he said, his deep voice breaking through the tension. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he watched me with a mixture of approval and calculation.

"If you can keep her close, we can learn more about her—who she truly is, what she’s capable of, and how she connects to Darius. There’s something between them. We all saw it."

I nodded slightly, unsurprised. Of course he would see things my way. He’d always been political—strategic to the bone. Every alliance, every friendship, every marriage in his life had been a move on the chessboard of power. I was his son, after all.

Father continued, "Go ahead with it. Befriend her. Charm her if you must. Uncover everything you can about both her and Darius. Especially whatever transpired between them on that field today."

I inclined my head in acknowledgment, but before I could respond, a sharp voice cut through the air.

"Are you all insane?" Claire’s voice trembled—not with fear, but with fury. She shot to her feet, the sound of her chair scraping harshly against the marble floor. "Do you hear yourselves? You’re plotting to manipulate her, and you’re all just sitting there agreeing like this is normal, without asking questions! What if you are all playing into her hands instead? What if this is her plan all along?!"

The males in the room turned to glare at her instantly, a united front of silent warning. But she didn’t shrink back—not yet. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her face flushed.

I sighed quietly, meeting her gaze with cool detachment. "Careful, Claire," I said softly, the warning in my tone unmistakable. "Do you think that being my fiancée means you can’t be discarded?"

The words landed like a slap. Her lips parted slightly, her bravado faltering. The fire that had burned so brightly in her eyes dimmed. She gritted her teeth, her hands trembling at her sides, but the defiance drained out of her posture.

Coward.

I watched her shrink, shoulders curling inward, head lowering in shame. She knew what I could do—what I would do—if she overstepped again. And more than that, she knew what losing me would mean.

She’d spent years at my side, years building this illusion of power and belonging. She couldn’t afford to let it go. Not after everything. Not after rejecting her true mate.

Yes, I knew about that.

I remembered the day the male had come to me—eyes desperate, voice shaking—as he pleaded for the chance to speak to her. To remind her of their bond. I’d told him to go to her directly, that she would have the final say.

And she had. She’d chosen me instead. Ambition over fate. Power over love.

The male had left afterward—disappeared into the human towns to live among mortals. I hadn’t seen him since. Part of me still wondered if that man ever forgave her. Or if he’d cursed her name until his dying breath.

Perhaps both.

Mother’s voice—soft yet sharp—broke the uneasy silence. "And what of the banquet?" she asked, her tone deceptively calm. "How will it be arranged? What shall we offer Sage as the victor... and Darius as the runner-up?"

My attention shifted to her immediately. She sat poised, elegant, fingers playing idly with the stem of her glass, though her eyes gleamed with quiet curiosity.

"Darius," I said, "will receive the usual prize for the runner-up. But Sage..." I let the name linger on my tongue for a moment. "She’ll decide what she wants. That was part of our promise to her—when she agreed to help us with the dome. Whatever reward she seeks, she’ll have the right to ask for it."

The Queen nodded slowly, but I could see the faint tension in her jaw. She didn’t like that answer. None of us did. It left too much uncertainty, too much power in Sage’s hands. And that was exactly why I needed to keep her close.

"That," I continued, rising from my seat, "is why befriending her isn’t optional. If she’s to be controlled—or at least guided—it must be done from within her circle. If she believes she matters, she’ll trust us. And when she trusts us, she’ll reveal what she’s hiding."

Father’s lips curved slightly. "You sound more like me every day."

"Perhaps I’ve been listening all these years," I said flatly.

"If there’s nothing else," I turned toward the door, "I’ll take my leave. I need rest... and time to think."