Page 75 of Prey of the Lycan Queen
Regan’s chest heaves, a sudden and sharp intake of breath. His eyes, once vacant, now shimmer with life. But the price of this miracle is evident in the distance. Once powerful and intimidating, Theron now lays motionless, his life force extinguished.
Silence follows as the storm dissipates. The balance has been altered, the scales tipped, but as I scramble to Regan’s side and cradle him, every consequence seems worth it.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
The horizon glows with the first hints of dawn, a quiet reminder that even after the harshest storm, the world finds a way to heal. But as I look around at the devastation—the uprooted trees, the flooded ground—I can’t shake the heaviness in my chest.
Theron’s body is proof of the lengths a father will go to save his child. My vision blurs with tears as I approach him. The burden of my choice, to exchange one life for another, seems almost unbearable, but living without Regan is an agony I could not imagine suffering.
Zeke’s hand finds mine, a warm and steady presence amid my inner turmoil. “He chose this,” he murmurs, his voice breaking slightly. “For Regan. For you. For the good of his people.”
I want to believe him, to find peace in his words, but every time I look at Theron’s lifeless form, guilt knots my insides. The choice was mine, and I ended a life because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing someone I loved. Though as I watch James struggling with hiding his emotions, I realize the pain of loss is someone else’s pain to bear because of me.
Lyon’s gaze is fixed on Regan, who is sitting with Gnash on the grass, all three wolves lying around him. They felt our anguish, and seeing Regan alive is a balm for our wounded souls. Yet, the absence of his father casts a shadow on what should’ve been a moment of pure relief. “We need to give him the farewell he deserves,” Lyon whispers.
The following hours are a blur of activity. Theron’s final resting place is prepared in the castle grounds. It is both heartwarming and heartbreaking to see, so many gather to pay their respects. He may have caused so much harm with the curse, but he was a good king to his people. Their sadness is understandable, and in their eyes, I see admiration and gratitude for their fallen king.
Upon returning home, we learned that the storm I caused when I cracked open the earth reached miles, and when we brought Regan back, my coven’s magic brewed a storm so mighty the entire country felt it. Now the earth bleeds as our hearts do too.
With each element comes a cue. Water washes, starting us anew; fire burns away the old, inviting the new; wind lifts our spirits to the skies, and earth, in time, brings back life.
James’s voice echoes across the grounds, telling tales of Theron’s bravery and love for his kingdom. His words paint a picture worthy of being a king, a father, and a friend. But when it is my turn to speak, words fail me.
I take a moment, gathering my thoughts. Nobody ever speaks of how surreal funerals are. It’s like stepping into a room where time stands still, and a weighty silence drapes over everything. There is a jarring discomfort in standing before a crowd—a mix of familiar faces and strangers—each bearing the raw mark of grief. It’s akin to baring your soul on the chilliest of winter days, hoping to find the right words to warm everyone, even if just a little. Speaking of loss in such a setting feels both intimate and exposing, a shared vulnerability that everyone, no matter their background or history, can understand.
I don’t feel worthy of speaking for him, given I was the one who took his life. Yet as their queen, it is expected, despite my hand in his death.
“In our lives, we face decisions that define us. Theron’s last act was his defining moment, teaching us all about the power of love and sacrifice.” I pause, tears streaming down my face. “May his spirit find the peace it deserves.”
As the sun sets, I can’t tear my eyes away from Regan. The weight of his grief is evident, yet beneath it all, I see a spark and a will to move forward.
Once the funeral is over and the king laid to rest, the night envelops us. I rest my head on Zeke’s shoulder and stare at the stars. They shimmer, offering a glimmer of the past, present, and future. Perhaps in their own way, they are telling us that no matter how dark the night seems, the dawn will always come, and with it, a chance to start anew.
Despite the exhaustion weighing heavily upon me, I find myself unable to close my eyes and seek refuge in slumber. Instead, I let my thoughts wander, and my mind replays what happened.
Regan disappeared right after his father’s funeral, and I know Lyon went looking for him, yet I feel I should give him space. After all, I am the one who has caused him this anguish.
King Theron’s death was a tragedy that shook everyone who knew him. But it also created an opportunity for me—the new queen—to take charge of the kingdom and right the wrongs that the curse bestowed upon us.
The world seems different since Theron’s funeral arrangements. It’s as if everything has shifted out of focus slightly, but at the same time, hope has been lifted for the future.
The crisp night air fills my lungs, and the pungent scent of death still clings to my dress. It feels like an invisible shroud weighing me down, a constant reminder of what I had to do. My heart thumps painfully against my chest as Zeke’s hand finds mine in the darkness.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly.
I shake my head mutely. There are no words to express how shattered I am inside.
Zeke squeezes my hand tighter and murmurs, “Come with me.” He leads me away from the funeral grounds to the hills that overlook the stables and the maze. It’s there that we find Regan with Lyon sitting at the top.
A few fireflies flicker around us while crickets chirp in harmony. It is almost dreamlike. Gnash immediately jumps to his feet upon spotting me, and Regan glances over his shoulder. Despite Zeke’s hand on my lower back trying to push me closer, I stand rooted in my distance, hesitant to approach.
“Sorry for disappearing. It’s just too many people,” Regan says, holding his hand out to me. I hesitantly move closer to take it, wondering how he can bear to look at me after what I did. He pulls me closer and jerks me down into his lap. Zeke drops beside him, and Lyon sits on his other side with Hunter and Shadow.
“It all started with a game of life and death, but who would have thought we’d have found both and so much more,” Regan murmurs, and his arms wrap around me. “In the game’s maze, between the moves and the stakes, I found love, and it wears your face,” Regan whispers, gripping my chin and turning my face to him. His thumb brushes my cheek softly. “Don’t be sad, and don’t feel guilty.” The warmth of his eyes takes away the chill of the night air. “When I look at you, all I see is the woman I fell deeply, irrevocably in love with. You tamed the beast and freed my yearning soul.”
“I’m still so sorry,” I whisper.
Regan moves slightly, and the warmth of his breath skates across my neck. “In the fires of my wrath,” he murmurs, letting his fingers trace a path down my arm, causing goose bumps, “it was your soothing touch that quelled the flames.” His other hand grazes my waist, pulling me flush against him. “And when lust threatened to blind me,” he continues, his voice thick with desire, “your love showed me true passion.” His lips find the crook of my neck, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses, and his teeth graze my skin where his mark should be with his brother’s.
