Chapter 35: Bond With Me.

"You can kill it?"

"That depends on how well you answer my questions, Princess." Kren replied, holding her gaze with a focused, unwavering look.

"Don’t call me that. I’m not a princess. But if anyone can give you real answers besides my father, it’s me. I’ve been stalking and studying that bastard alpha since I was fourteen years old. I don’t just know everything there is to know about it — I can walk you straight to it, and it will never see you coming." She held Kren’s gaze for a moment longer, before continuing.

"But before any of that... who the hell are you? My brother calls you ’Your Majesty.’ So do your own people." Pina’s voice dropped into something darker. "Which king are you?"

And there it was. The moment of truth. By now, every eye in the cave was fixed on them, and Kren was fairly certain most of them had already worked it out on their own. How could they not? There were, after all, felines scattered throughout his group — Fima chief among them, a fully realized humanoid Margay, impossible to mistake for anything else.

"Jomin, why don’t you tell my sister exactly who I am." Kren said. The boy nodded and turned to his sister with an expression caught somewhere between genuine seriousness and barely restrained mockery.

"You stand in the presence of His Royal Highness, Kren N’kora Blackmane. Sovereign of the Felines."

Pina’s face twisted through derision, anger, and open disgust in rapid succession, whispers already breaking out across the cave.

"That’s the N’kora king?"

"No wonder he looked familiar. The nerve of him, coming here of all places."

"I’ve never seen shamelessness like this. His own grandfather was the one who broke the Storm Eagles, tore away their sovereign crest, and handed it straight to the Zar Empire and their pet falcons."

"You think he’s here to finish the job? Marry the young lady of the clan?"

"Why else would he be here? Though I doubt it’ll go well for him — the eagles have carried a deep hatred for the Black Lions for generations."

Kren did his best to tune it all out, though he couldn’t deny it gnawed at him more than he wanted to admit. Solution or not, his options would be severely limited if the Storm Eagles refused to cooperate — worse still if they decided this was the perfect opportunity to settle an old blood debt instead. The last surviving N’kora, alone, against an entire clan of Storm Eagles — it was a tempting proposition, even accounting for the fact that none of them could currently cultivate. Powerful bloodlines, sure. But ordinary people, every one of them, at least for now.

"You actually expect me to marry you? Your grandfather condemned my entire people to this." Kren let out a sound caught somewhere between a scoff and a mocking laugh.

"I’m not here to discuss the nuances of ancient history, Princess." Pina bristled visibly at the title. "Honestly, I don’t particularly care either way. But since you insist on dragging it up, you spoiled little hatchling—"

Pina sputtered, outraged. Jomin had to visibly fight down a laugh, earning a sharp glare from his sister for the effort. Aki didn’t even try to hide his amusement, letting out a full-bodied laugh as he produced a wine flask from seemingly nowhere and settled back to enjoy the show properly.

"The Zar Draconic Empire sent a vassal kingdom to crush a rebel outlier clan that refused to bend the knee and become their sixth vassal territory. So unless you eagles are as dense as you currently sound, you’d already know it was only ever a matter of time before those fire-breathing lizards came knocking on your door regardless.

"At least your people still breathe. Your bloodline still exists. There’s exactly one of me left standing. So forgive me if I don’t feel much appetite for this little game of blame you’re trying to start. Your people refused to kneel to the empire and paid for it. I’ve come to claim what’s left of the pieces, and become Lord and King of the Storm Mountains and everyone living on them."

The entire cave went dead silent. Aki turned his head aside and muttered a quiet curse, offering a silent prayer to the ancestors and wondering, not for the first time, exactly how he was supposed to keep this reckless boy-king alive long enough to see his oath through. Ruhu reached over and patted him on the shoulder, though neither man managed to wipe the grin off his own face.

"I don’t think my father would even let you compete." Pina said through gritted teeth. Jomin nodded alongside her, reluctant but in agreement.

"If there’s anything — or anyone — he hates more than the Lyndwyrms right now, it’s the N’kora bloodline." Jomin added. Kren only shrugged.

"Does he have a choice?"

Both siblings went quiet. A look passed between them — brief, subtle, but not subtle enough to escape Kren’s party. These were people who’d either grown up steeped in royal courts, or spent enough time around politics and plots to recognize one brewing in real time.

"My father makes the final decision... Your Majesty." Pina said eventually, her voice noticeably more subdued now, which caught Kren off guard.

"But if he agrees to let you compete, I’ll give you every answer you’re looking for. That alpha and its clutch have been a plague on our lives for close to fifteen years now. It took my mother from me. I intend to see it dead, one way or another, whatever the cost ends up being." She studied him for a moment, then asked.

"What do you actually want from us? Our sovereign bloodline lost its crest roughly a 150 years ago, courtesy of your own bloodline. And then the falcons severed us from cultivation entirely. We have nothing left to offer you. And the fact that you’re even here? no offense, Your Majesty, but it reeks of desperation. I don’t care what my brother’s told you — if you want anything accomplished in these mountains, I’m the one you need to convince. It’s my life, my body, my freedom and the lives of everyone who I’m supposed to lead and protect , on the line here. Not his."

Jomin frowned at his sister’s words but held his tongue, letting her take the lead. Kren, for his part, couldn’t shake the feeling that something larger was moving beneath the surface of this conversation — something important he wasn’t yet privy to, and the creeping suspicion that he might be walking straight into a trap. But in the end, it all came down to one simple question.

"Do I even have a choice?"

He let the thought pass and turned back to Jomin instead. "I already told your brother why I’m here. I need soldiers. I need ore, and the forging techniques your people have spent generations perfecting. I’m here because the future Empress of the Zar Draconic Empire has decided to drag this entire region into civil war, all for some twisted little game of hers. And the prize?

"Whoever wins her bloody game, becomes the next emperor — his bloodline elevated, woven permanently into the N’Zar line, forging a new sovereign bloodline that’s in her own words, supposed to last forever."

Kren let the words settle before continuing. The whispers that followed carried a sharper edge of fury this time. The Storm Mountains sat isolated enough from the rest of the continent that they were practically the N’kora’s own backyard — this was clearly news to every one of them.

"What does any of that have to do with us? We’re a broken, discarded people. Your grandfather and the empire he served, made certain of that personally. We can’t cultivate, which makes us useless on any battlefield you’re imagining. The same goes for our forging — without access to Aura, we can’t touch the higher techniques or knowledge that makes any of it worthwhile. Whatever you think we can offer you, we simply don’t have it to give anymore. Without our old strength, this entire trip was a waste of your time. You better rethink your approach, because I will not let my people die for your ambitions." Pina finished, her blue eyes aglow with defiance. It did not matter how strong Kren and his party were, she would fight them if she had to.

Kren leaned forward, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Not unless you bond with me."

This time, his words landed like a physical blow. There were no whispers left in the cave — only a single, roaring wave of uproar.