Page 37 of Prey of the Lycan Queen
Regan, however, storms out of the castle and attempts to come after me, but James steps in his way. “Regan, no. What are you doing?” James pleads with him.
“She’s not leaving me!” Regan moves toward the car, overcome with the very sins that plague him. Zeke opens the rear door and motions for my wolves to hop in. They obey immediately, but I can’t tear my gaze from Regan, who is trying to get past his uncle.
Regan looks defeated, but there’s something dark still raging within him. “He won’t hurt my uncle. James can take care of himself, I promise, Zirah.”
I chew my lip for a second, debating on leaving James with his raging nephew. Sighing, I slide across the seat, trusting James can handle him.
“How far is your kingdom?” I ask Zeke in a monotone voice.
“A few hours maybe.”
“And what will I find once there? Is it worse than here?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” he states. I turn my gaze to the window and gasp as I see Regan storm toward the dungeon with a bottle in his hand. The guards run the moment they spot him. James chases him, and my hand instinctively moves toward the door handle, but Zeke grabs me.
“There was no way he was letting them live,” Zeke whispers just as I see Regan open the door and set fire to the fabric protruding from the bottle. My stomach drops. There are more humane ways to die, but before I can say that, Zeke’s hand goes across my eyes, blocking me from watching.
“How long have they been down there?” I murmur just as I hear their screams.
“Seventeen years,” Zeke whispers. “They were the men responsible for our mother’s death.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Zeke’s brooding quietness fills the car like an oppressive fog that matches my own turmoil. The men hanging from chains in the cellar were his mother’s attackers. My stomach sinks at the thought. How would I have handled those men if it were up to me to exact justice for someone I loved? I have to force the thoughts away.
Regan’s deeds echo in my mind like a vile melody, and I know the images of the detained citizens will haunt me for the rest of my life.
The wound of my severed bond with him throbs with every beat of my heart. Anxiety gnaws at me. Not for Regan, not for his doomed reign, but for what’s next. What horrors lie ahead in Zeke’s kingdom? What sins lurk in his shadows?
Of all the brothers, I find I worry about the condition of his kingdom the most. He never tried to hide the monster he is, instead, I’ve seen it in full force.
The road ahead unwinds like a black ribbon, stretching through the heart of the wilderness. The only sound is the low purr of the car engine, punctuated by the occasional sigh from Zeke. Lost in thought, he absentmindedly pats Hunter’s head.
“Are you upset that I rejected him?” I venture, my voice cutting through the thick silence.
Pulled from his thoughts, Zeke shrugs. “I don’t know. I think I am numb,” he admits. Numb. The word hangs in the air, fitting for our shared state of mind. It’s as though we’re on the precipice, teetering between the known and the unknown, waiting for the inevitable plunge.
I remember my conversation with Zeke’s father, his scornful words. “Your father said none of you were worthy of the High Kingdom. I understand why he said Regan wasn’t. I also understand why he would believe Lyon wasn’t. His kingdom doesn’t flourish in an economic sense. What about yours?”
“We are all slaves to our curse, Zirah,” Zeke replies, his gaze focused on the darkness outside. “No matter what, in some way, we can’t escape it.”
“But Lyon isn’t,” I counter, remembering the simplicity and peace of Lyon’s kingdom.
“He is,” Zeke insists. “He lives with the guilt. We all do. Only he managed to twist his into something good, but it’s also equally miserable. He sacrifices his own wants and luxuries out of a deep desire to redeem himself. His people may be happy, but they’re also without.”
“Without what?” I probe, struggling to reconcile his words with my memories of Lyon’s kingdom.
“For one, they live contently in a sense, but so much is old-fashioned. They live off the land when they don’t need to. They work from sunup to sundown, hard labor. Yes, there is freedom in that, but the children are uneducated. They don’t have the required medical needs. All they know is how to harvest and do hands-on work. They wouldn’t survive in a normal world.”
I mull over his words. On the surface, Lyon’s kingdom appeared ideal, a stark contrast to Regan’s. But beneath the facade of peace and contentment, a different story unfolds. The world is complex, twisted by the sins and shortcomings of those who rule.
“And your kingdom?” I ask, turning to face Zeke. “What sin is it ruled by?”
“Gluttony,” Zeke answers simply. My confusion must show because he adds, “You’ll find out soon enough.”
The abrupt sound of hollering jerks me from my restless sleep, and I awake to an empty car. Rubbing my eyes, I peer out the window. Zeke is out there in the darkness, talking to a silhouette I can’t quite make out. My wolves frolic about playfully.
Clambering out of the limo, I step into the chilly air, the cool caress waking me further. Zeke hears the car door and turns to look at me. He shrugs off his jacket, draping it over my shoulders as he approaches. The sudden blast of floodlights forces me to squint, the harsh brightness revealing a quarry of sorts.
