Page 39 of King of Pride and Talons

The king had enough. But so had Cassia.

“Go now!” she screeched, raising two hands into the air. "Attack!"

Thorne leaped for the throne first. But her guards had been waiting patiently in the shadows and blocked him in a wall of dusty bones.

Thorne called to Vale telepathically, commanding him to descend upon the palace, full throttle.

TWENTY-ONE

THORNE

The wall of bones that Thorne collided with felt thin and papery, but that didn't stop it from doing its job. As a mighty, healthy lion shifter, he managed to plow through them, but it wasn't before Cassia had shifted and slipped away.

The shifters all pounced on top of him at once as he tried to chase after the dreadful queen. It was obvious in their lion forms how sickly they were, but nearly ten to fifteen were trying to pile on top of his back. The king’s spine began to sink despite still moving forward, dragging along a collection of what felt like eager and distressed ants.

The men he had entered the castle with were also occupied. Thorne started to flick the shifters off his back like maddening pests, sending a few flying into the cold, marble floor. In a way, he admired their loyalty to Cassia—but it was in many ways blind and relentlessly delusional.

At first, he attempted to merely disable them, tire them out until the reality of the moment dawned on them. But they were rather pesky and tenacious, gnawing at the king's tail, ankles, and elbows, leaving sad but stingy bite marks that could have easily belonged to mosquitos.

He was having no luck gaining on Cassia, who was in the melee but kept barely escaping his grasp. He felt that his men were also being gentle with their enemies, a kind of sorrowful understanding of their predicament.

Vale, on the other hand, was having no such problem. He and his men had swiftly and effortlessly destroyed the shifters who were psychotically attempting to protect their kingdom and ruler. Thorne had felt it psychically despite the fact that Cassia had more soldiers on the defense.

The king heard the doors of the castle rattle. Vale and his team were trying to get in, but it had been locked shut. The bang was heavy, and the king tried to communicate with his lead enforcer.

What's going on?

The door is jammed. We are nearly there, My King.

Don’t break your back. We’ve got this in here.

Yes, My King.

Defeating the ailing shifters wasn’t as simple as swiping them with their claws or ripping their throats to pieces. Cassia had been right about one thing in her fantastical rant. The power of hungry men is not something to underestimate.

They attacked in groups, applying strength in numbers rather than individualistic skill or agility. The king was able to grab hold of one or two, knock them unconscious with a thundering slap or cerebral snap of the neck, but then ten more would be on him. It was becoming quite infuriating and was starting to test both Thorne’s stamina and patience.

He’d had enough, and his compassion for the attackers was waning.

Cassia! he bellowed telepathically. Show yourself and fight me!

There was no response. Only the sound of blended roars and mewls of desperation.

The king gathered all his strength, tensing his muscles into rigid rock, then whipped all the crawling, ant-like beings off of his back. They flew quite miraculously, a few of them smacking roughly into the wall, and others crashing into the steps in front of the throne.

He didn’t give them any time to regroup. Thorne, along with the five other shifters he'd brought with him into the castle, went into full battle mode. They obliterated the clan of weak lions with spectacular speed and acrobatic accuracy. Before the king needed to catch another breath, the throne room was bathed in the blood of his foes.

Except, he didn’t really think of them that way. It didn't please him to have to make such a decision, but he had to defend himself and if they continued to pursue him, he had no choice.

All that was left was to deal with Cassia. He howled into the void of the drab, crimson-soaked room, sensing the queen’s zesty scent not too far away.

Come out and submit!

He heard the same dark chuckle again, but instead of bouncing off the walls, it was in his head.

Cassia stepped out from behind the throne. The sight of her threadlike frame shocked Thorne to his core. The blonde of her fur looked ragged and mute. The bones of her neck, ankles, and ribs stood out like worn-out cables of an old marionette.

But the eyes, the power and fury of those eyes remained. It cut through the king like a sword buried deep into his belly.

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