Page 1 of The Shifter's Queen

Prologue

The screeching of gulls mixed with the crashing sound of waves and the rhythmic beat of hooves on wet sand, creating a cacophony, as the heavy breathing of the beast disrupted the early morning calm. The storm’s wreckage was everywhere: twisted branches, tangled seaweed, and driftwood scattered across the beach. Or’Ang had to weave his horse through the debris, forcing him to slow his pace.

The incoming wave propelled icy water from the Atlantic up against his form-fitting trousers, sending a mixture of sand and sea water showering down on him and the black stallion under him. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the gentle lapping of waves against the shore or the clear, azure sky above. The pounding of his companions’ horses' hooves was a distant echo in his mind, drowned out by the waves of grief that crashed over him.

The stallion stumbled, its hoof sinking deep into the soft sand, and its rider nearly toppled over its neck. A wave of rational thought washed over him, and he gently guided the stallion to a walk, feeling the animal's muscles relax under his touch. Guilt gnawed at him as the massive black stallion, its flanks heaving, struggled to catch its breath. The stallion was not to blame for what had happened.

Why? Why did they not wait just a few more days?

Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision, and he impatiently wiped his hand across them, trying to clear the stinging moisture. Kings did not cry. The thought hit him like a physical blow, and he drew in a shuddering breath as the terrifying realization filled his mind.

Two horses, their coats glistening with sweat, drew up beside him, the rhythmic sound of their heavy breathing filling the air. Polar, a polar bear shifter, newly anointed knight, and a close friend rode silently at his side on a white steed while Oliver, a human and a brother to both him and Polar, rode a chestnut mare on his other.

They carefully steered their mounts onto higher, more compact sand, avoiding the loose, treacherous patches below. The confirmation that his parents had perished when their ship sank three days ago had come in the wee hours of the night. In the distance, the heavy, somber tolling of the kingdom's bells filled the air with a sense of sorrow.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Or’Ang,” Polar said, his voice tinged with sorrow.

“I’m sorry,” Oliver added.

Or’Ang’s nod was barely perceptible, his face a mask of sorrow, as he struggled to contain his grief. They rode for several hours, the wind whipping through their hair as they climbed higher, until they reached the top of the cliffs. Once they arrived, he brought his horse to a halt with a sharp tug on the reins, the leather creaking, then slid gracefully down, the reins landing with a soft thud on the saddle. The horses, their flanks heaving from the long ride, eagerly munched on the sweet, tall grass that grew along the cliff, their ears twitching with contentment.

The salty breeze whipped at his face as he walked to the edge and looked out over the vast ocean. His eyes followed the elegant flights of seagulls, their white wings catching the sunlight as they swooped in and out of their nests on the sandy cliffs, their cries piercing the air as they searched for food. Blinding sunlight glinted off the dark blue water, casting a million shimmering diamonds that danced on the waves. The beauty of his surroundings seemed muted; the vibrancy of the colors dulled by the ache of his parents' absence.

That duty now falls on my shoulders.

Oliver and Polar flanked him, staying several feet back to respect his space. They were vigilant, watchful of their new king, ready to react to any command. He swallowed hard, trying to push down the bitterness that threatened to overwhelm him, and then spoke. His words were a quiet, commanding presence, resonant with the strength and wisdom of a true ruler.

“I will need advisors that I can trust. I know of no others I could trust more than the two of you,” he said.

“Or’Ang… I thank you for your consideration, but… you must remember that I’m a lowly human. There may be some that would not be happy with your decision,” Oliver replied, his voice cautious.

The ocean stretched out endlessly before them, much like the responsibilities he now faced. Or’Ang continued to stare at it, his face growing taut with determination before he turned to face both men. His gaze swept over Oliver's face, taking in the worried lines etched around his eyes. The more Oliver hesitated, the more certain the King felt that he was making the right decision. Oliver's heart was prioritized on the kingdom's welfare and prosperity, not his own personal gain.

“If they have issue, they can make their case to me. I’ve made my decision,” he stated.

Oliver bowed his head and knelt on one knee. “Yes, sire.”

He turned his attention to Polar. “You will be in charge of my personal guards. The safety and security of the kingdom and its king now fall on your shoulders.”

Polar sank to one knee and bowed his head. “Yes, my king. I will protect both with my life.”

“Rise.” He waited until both men stood again. His lips twitched with wry amusement. “You’ll also call me Or’Ang in private and be a royal pain in my ass. I’m going to need all the honest help I can get. If I’m to do this, I need you both to tell me when I’m making a stupid decision and you can’t do that if you have a corncob up your asses.”

Oliver and Polar locked eyes, their grins widening before they nodded emphatically and moved to join him. The weight of their new responsibilities pressed heavily on their young shoulders as they stood together, arms draped over his, staring out at the endless expanse of the ocean in silent contemplation.

They are my pillars. As long as we stand together, we stand strong.

Unlike the frantic rush earlier in the day, their ride back was a more leisurely affair, allowing them to appreciate the gentle sway of the fields and the quiet chirping of birds. He had finally mastered his emotions, understanding that as king, his grief, while profound, had to be kept private. The weight of the kingdom pressed heavily on his shoulders, a responsibility he would not betray. He vowed to rule with the same strength and wisdom as his mother and father, for their memory demanded nothing less.

The smell of woodsmoke and baking bread hung in the air as they rode through the small human village. With a quiet rustle of skirts and a gentle creak of leather boots, residents paused and bowed or curtsied as they passed. He studied their hesitant demeanor, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity, and offered a warm smile to quell their fears. He understood their longing for peace and security, a place where they could build a life without the constant threat of violence. His parents had taken them in, generously offering them land to farm and homes that provided shelter from the harsh weather.

The king, a beacon of understanding, would continue opening his kingdom and his heart to those who sought a life in harmony with the shifters, inviting them to share in the peace and prosperity of his realm. The brilliant white towers of the castle, gleaming in the sunlight, rose majestically above the surrounding landscape. The horses’ hooves clattered over the heavy wooden drawbridge; their rhythmic sound muffled by the thick oak planks. They passed under the massive iron gates, the dark iron glinting in the sunlight, a reminder of the sanctity guarded within. The sharp, rhythmic beat of the horses’ hooves on the uneven cobblestones of the courtyard filled him with a sense of pride. The old guards of his parents stood rigidly at attention, their weathered faces etched with respect, their heads bowing as he passed.

Three stable boys, their faces flushed with energy, rushed out to take care of the riders’ horses, eager to begin their day. A frown creased his face as he noticed Annie, the house stewardess, fidgeting at the castle entrance, her hands clenched tightly together. He murmured a swift thanks to the boys, his voice raspy with fatigue, as they led their weary mounts away. His gaze fell upon Annie's face, a mix of distress and sadness displayed by her features.

“What is it, Annie?” he inquired.

“Sire, a stranger has been brought to the castle. He says he was on the ship with your parents and requests an audience with you. I’ve had him escorted to the library,” she said.

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