Chapter 13: Council Threats and Cracking Nerves

Dad had already slapped the table and stood up, his chest heaving violently: "Caleb, out of respect for your mentor, I have spoken kindly to you. If you dare be disrespectful to my daughter again, don't blame me for personally going up to the High Council in Mesa Hall to demand justice!"

Under the Phoenix Patriarch's might, Caleb couldn't even stand steadily; he forced himself to straighten up, and blood already stained his lips.

His wounds weren't yet healed and now were torn again; fresh blood soaked and spread across his chest, his hand shaking.

A dignified Archmage had rarely looked so wretched; the ward sigils on his cuffs flickered.

I stifled a laugh. With soft, unhurried steps, I stood before him and softly soothed Dad: "No need to hurt him. If you hurt him, Aubrey will have her heart aching again." A private thought flickered—yes, I was playing that card on purpose.

Over there, my mother, the Matriarch, as an aunt looking at a nephew-in-law, also found him more pleasing the more she looked; following my words, she complained to Dad: "Look at you—on a perfectly good day we still see blood. Anyway, Lil has no intention toward him; fulfilling Aubrey isn't unacceptable either. Either way, he's still family."

My henpecked dad fumed, but in the end said nothing more.

I caught the little flicker of relief in Caleb’s eyes. Even now, surrounded by drama, he was grateful for the reprieve. Across the room, Dad’s blade hummed softly in its sheath—like the next storm waiting to break.