The challenge came three days after the Hollow Ring.
Not shouted.
Not dramatic.
Delivered with ritual precision.
A silver-edged summons was placed at Kael's door before dawn—formal, cold, unmistakable. Lyra felt the shift through the bond before Kael even picked it up. His calm tightened. His heartbeat slowed into something deliberate.
"They're calling a Conclave," he said quietly.
Lyra sat up. "For Nyx?"
Kael shook his head. "For me."
The words landed heavy between them.
"For leadership," he continued. "For my right to remain Alpha Heir."
Lyra's chest tightened. "Because of me."
Kael met her gaze. He didn't deny it.
The Conclave Hall was ancient—older than Romance Academy itself. Stone pillars curved like ribs around a circular floor etched with sigils of rank, lineage, and law. The air buzzed with restrained power and watching eyes.
Students filled the upper galleries. Bonded. Unclaimed. Curious. Afraid.
Lyra walked beside Kael until the threshold. There, an invisible line stopped her.
"Only claimants may enter," the Sentinel intoned.
Kael squeezed her hand once before stepping forward alone.
"Kael," Lyra whispered.
He turned, eyes soft. "I hear you even when you're not beside me."
The bond warmed, steadying them both.
At the center of the hall stood Ronan Blackmoor—older, broader, his power dense and aggressive. A respected warrior. A popular choice among those who believed strength should rule without complication.
Ronan's gaze slid to Lyra briefly—measuring, dismissive.
Then back to Kael.
"You stand accused," Ronan said loudly, "of compromising leadership through emotional imbalance."
Murmurs rippled.
Kael's voice was calm. "Loving my mate is not imbalance."
A council elder stepped forward. "The concern is not love, Kael Nightfang. It is consequence."
Another added, "Since Lyra Vale's emergence as an Anchor, instability has risen. Unclaimed unrest. Ritual interference. Challenges to tradition."
Lyra clenched her fists at the edge of the hall.
Ronan took a step forward. "An Alpha must choose the pack over the person," he said. "You've chosen her."
Kael lifted his chin. "I chose truth."
"Then prove it," Ronan snapped. "Face me."
Gasps echoed.
A duel for leadership was rare. Dangerous.
The elder nodded slowly. "The Conclave accepts. Power against power. Control against control."
Lyra's heart slammed painfully. "No," she whispered, though no one heard.
Kael removed his cloak and handed it to a Sentinel. He rolled his shoulders once, grounding himself.
Across the hall, Ronan smiled thinly. "You'll hesitate," he said quietly. "Because you're afraid she'll feel it."
Kael's eyes sharpened. "You mistake love for weakness."
The bell rang.
They moved.
Ronan struck first—raw force, a sweeping arc of power meant to dominate space. Kael countered smoothly, redirecting rather than colliding. Stone cracked. Energy flared.
The crowd roared.
Lyra felt every hit through the bond—not pain, but pressure. Kael was holding back.
"Stop protecting him," Ronan taunted mid-strike. "Let him lead without you."
Lyra's breath hitched. The words cut deeper than the blows.
Kael faltered for half a second.
Ronan seized it—slamming Kael into the ground, pinning him with crushing force.
"Yield," Ronan growled. "Choose the pack."
Silence fell.
Kael lay there, breath heavy, power straining against restraint. His eyes flicked to Lyra across the threshold.
And in that look, she saw it.
Not doubt.
Fear—for her.
Lyra stepped forward, pressing against the barrier. "Kael!"
The Sentinel moved to stop her, but the elders raised a hand.
"Let her speak," one said quietly.
Lyra's voice trembled—but it carried. "If loving me costs you leadership… I won't let you lose yourself for me."
Ronan laughed. "Hear that? Even she knows."
Kael closed his eyes briefly.
Then he did something no Alpha Heir had ever done in a Conclave.
He opened the bond.
Fully.
The hall gasped as silver and midnight light poured outward—not wild, not consuming. Honest.
Lyra felt it like a door opening in her chest.
I don't need you to leave, Kael said through the bond. I need you to stand.
Her breath caught. They're using me against you.
Then we don't let them lie.
Kael surged to his feet—not with rage, but clarity. Ronan struck again, harder this time.
Kael didn't dodge.
He absorbed it—and redirected the force into the floor, grounding it harmlessly.
"Power without connection breaks," Kael said steadily. "I've seen it."
Ronan attacked again. Kael countered—not overpowering, but outlasting. Each move precise. Controlled. Balanced.
The elders watched closely now.
"Why won't you sever the bond?" Ronan demanded, frustrated. "Why cling to her?"
Kael's voice rang clear. "Because leadership isn't about standing above others. It's about standing with them."
Ronan snarled and gathered everything he had into one final strike.
Kael met it head-on.
The clash shook the hall—but when the light cleared, Kael stood firm.
Ronan dropped to one knee, stunned.
Silence thundered.
An elder stepped forward slowly. "The challenge is decided."
Ronan looked up, disbelief etched into his face. "He chose her."
"Yes," the elder said. "And remained unbroken."
The Sentinel struck the floor once. "Kael Nightfang retains his claim."
The hall erupted—some cheering, some furious, many shaken.
Kael turned immediately—not to the council, not to the crowd.
To Lyra.
The barrier faded.
She ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. He held her tightly, forehead resting against hers.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "They shouldn't have—"
He cut her off softly. "They needed to see it."
"See what?"
"That you don't weaken me," he said. "You steady me."
Across the hall, whispers spread—conflicted, thoughtful, unsettled.
And from the shadows of the upper gallery, Nyx watched in silence, her expression unreadable.
"Interesting," she murmured to herself. "So the Anchor inspires loyalty too."
She turned away, already planning her next move.
As Kael and Lyra stood together at the center of the hall—unbowed, unbroken—the academy felt the shift.
Leadership had been challenged.
And redefined.
Not by dominance.
But by love that refused to be used as a blade.