Page 23 of His Lycan Luna Queen

“She did recognize her. Marrissa threatened to expose the truth about Peter if Ester betrayed her.”

“That doesn’t make sense, though. Landeenas have immunity; you would’ve had to protect Peter regardless. Marrissa must’ve known this; it doesn’t seem like a credible threat,” I argue, and his fingers pause again.

“I found that odd, too. Maybe Ester didn’t want Peter to become a target for hunters?”

I shake my head in disagreement. “What safer place than being protected by the King’s guard? Is that why Marrissa refused to fight for me? She mentioned as much, but if so, why didn’t she leave me with Kyson? She must’ve known he was looking for her and the council.”

“I think you’re overthinking it,” Kyson says dismissively. “Ester was under my command; she couldn’t resist it.”

“Unless she drank Landeenas blood?” I suggest tentatively, but Kyson shakes his head in denial.

“Peter hasn’t shifted yet; it doesn’t work like that. His Alpha aura is missing, too, because his bloodline is diluted. His blood wouldn’t affect her against my command,” he explains patiently while I nibble on my lip in thought. The answer is on the tip of my tongue; something isn’t right, and I can almost feel it in my bones.

“Stress is making you overthink,” Kyson suggests, tipping my head back. But one thing continues to replay in my mind, and I’m almost certain of it. “I think Marrissa was framed,” I whisper, and Kyson tips my head back again, forcing me to look up at him.

“You’re not defending that woman!”

“What if I am? It feels wrong. I know Marrissa, and she loved me. She would never hurt me like that.”

“She’s sired to you. Of course, she loves you. You kept her alive,” Kyson growls, dipping his face and nipping at my lips, but I turn my face before he can deepen it. Kyson sighs.

“I don’t want to fight over this, Azzy. Please. We’re having a great afternoon. Don’t ruin it,” he says, and I swallow hard. Despite that, my mind is made up now more than ever before. Marrissa didn’t do it; now the challenge is finding a way to prove it because Kyson refuses to believe he has been wrong all theseyears—that they got it wrong—but how do I explain her killing all those children or his sister?

“I get it—you want to see good in the woman who raised you, but ...”

“No! It’s not that! The more I think about it, little things keep popping up, and now I regret not questioning Ester myself.”

“You don’t trust what she said under my command?” Kyson asks incredulously.

My brows furrow.

“And are you sure you commanded her, and she couldn’t have resisted? No doubt?” I ask him; he falls quiet.

“I am sure Azzy—please no more talking about it tonight, let’s just enjoy the evening without worrying about the drama in our lives.” He gets up, muttering to himself walking toward his bar in the corner.

“I hate when you drink,” I tell him, and he stops, glancing at me over his shoulder.

“I’m only having one.”

“It’s never just one—you know that. You think I don’t notice how much you drank after the—” I trail off, shaking my head.Don’t go there, Azalea,I scold myself.

“It helps.”

“Helps get you drunk and turn into an asshat,” I retort, turning back to the maps that are hard for me to read but which I have a general understanding of by their mountains. When I look up at him again, he’s shaking his head, pouring himself a glass—I click my tongue.

“I won’t mention anything else tonight if you put the glass down,” I suggest, tilting my head to the side watching him.

“And if I drink it?” he asks, turning with the glass in his hands. But I know he drinks because it numbs him and also helps dampen his urges—still, it isn’t a permanent solution. Glancing around the room, my eyes land on a bookshelf.

“Read to me?”

“You want me to read?” he wonders aloud as he wanders over to the bookcase—but then puts down his glass on the coffee table as he picks out a book.

“Rapunzel?”

I shake my head.

“Prince and the Pauper?”

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