Page 4 of The Reign of Blood

“I’ll tell you about my ears, and then you’ll let me leave?”

He assesses me for what feels like an eternity. What he’s considering, I don’t know, but eventually, he nods. “Tell me, and I’ll let you leave, but you’re going to have to be prepared for further bargains down the line.”

I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, and I should probably ask, but truthfully, I just want to get the hell out of here as quickly as possible.

“Fine,” I grumble, folding my arms over my chest so I can discreetly wrap a hand around a dagger. Just in case. “The night the castle was overthrown, my father?—”

“King Reagan,” he interjects, eyebrows raised as he waits for me to clarify.

“King Reagan,” I repeat, the words heavy and pained on my tongue. “Gathered me and… gathered his children and took tothe secret passageways. He had fought as hard as he could, used his magic until there was no chance for him to regenerate it in time, and declared that saving his beloved daughters was his top priority.” Silence falls over us as I try to find the right words, but recalling the events of that night causes more pain than I care to admit. I’ve packed it away for so long, wearing my untipped ears with pride regardless, but it still hurts to remember the feelings that ran through my body, the smell of earth and singed plains, along with the taste of copper in my mouth. “My father?—”

“King Reagan,” he corrects again, and I glare at him.

“King Reagan or not, he’s still my father, and I’ll continue to refer to him that way,” I snap, anger consuming me once again.

He shakes his head. “He is your father in the comfort of your own surroundings. In public, in conversation with any soul not in your immediate bloodline, he is King Reagan. Addressing him as anything else is, at best, a display of your poor knowledge of the ways of our kingdom. At worst, it could be interpreted as outright contempt for our traditions and way of life.”

My brain freezes. His words aren’t acid or lecturing; he’s being… helpful? I can’t be certain.

Fuck.

Shaking my head. I focus back on the story. His proximity isn’t aiding my thoughts. “King Reagan told us to hide in the caverns as we awaited our transportation, but we were overwhelmed by a pack of wolves. He told me to keep my eyes closed and sing my favorite poem in my mind to fight off the pain and panic, so I did, just as he had always taught me, even at such a young age. I didn’t see the faces of the attackers. I barely felt the slice along my ears until we somehow made it to safety.” The rest threatens to spill from my lips, the inability to correct the damage that had been done, both to me and to Nora, but I quickly shut it all down and clear my throat.

“That’s not as gruesome as I thought it was going to be.”

Asshole.

“Fuck you. Are we done?” I snarl, inching toward the door. He doesn’t move at first, eyes narrowed on me as he considers his next move. I’ve played his game long enough. My irritation is at an all-time high, and if he doesn’t get his shit together and let me leave, a war between us will be the least of his worries.

My magic thrums to the surface, ready to act, but as I step within an inch of him, he moves to the side, clearing my path. I grab the door handle and swing it open so fast I can barely breathe, but his parting words stay with me far beyond exiting his room.

“Don’t forget, Troublemaker, you’re going to tell me everything I want to know. Unless you want this little secret to get out.”

3

CASSIAN

Anger courses through every fiber of my body as my wolf itches to take over. I can feel him pushing against my flesh from the inside, ready to cause havoc and demand answers to questions we haven’t even thought of yet.

“Everybody fuck off,” I snarl, my breath whooshing with every inflation of my lungs as I struggle to remain calm.

“You don’t get to order them around anymore. You’re not the alpha heir to the Kenner pack, or even a measly pack member, remember?” My father smirks, a sense of accomplishment spreading across his lips as he stares down at me. My nostrils flare as I strain against my wolf, who is desperate to lash out, father or not.

If my father notices my inner turmoil, he doesn’t mention it, and he turns away from me to find Dalton. He doesn’t see me as a threat at all. One day, I’m going to have the pleasure of correcting him on the error of his assumptions. Right now, though, I need to understand what on Earth is happening.

“Get rid of her,” my father grunts, and Dalton yanks on the queen, still on her knees. My jaw ticks as I turn away. I don’t know what the fuck is happening, and my gut already knows thatmy father isn’t going to share anything with me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try.

Looking down at my bare hands, I try to calm my rising fury as I consider the past few minutes. One moment Addi, or Adrianna, or whoever the fuck she is, was in my grasp, and the next, she was gone. With Raiden. I should be concerned about what he has planned for her, but I can’t seem to move from the spot I’m in, my father turning back to me with that familiar-yet-sinister look in his eyes.

I’m not naïve enough to refuse to consider that I’m completely out of my depth in this moment. My mind swirls with hints of betrayal as my emotions threaten to get the better of me.

“What have you been up to, old man?” I ask, fingers clenching at my sides as I assess him just as hard as he’s assessing me, until my gaze cuts to the former queen crying out in the distance.

“Please, please. My daughter! Please!”

The wolves around us remain frozen in a mixture of intrigue and horror as they watch the mess unfold before them. Forever my father’s sycophants, they won’t object to any of his decisions; that’s always been my job. But it seems he was making moves before I was old enough to understand my role. Moves that can’t be reversed.

“The party is over,” my father bites, earning a few gasps and grumbles from the pack around us.

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