Page 26 of Prey of the Lycan Queen
“The choice is yours,” he tells me, and I nod, eagerly wanting to see what the city is like at night.
“Of course,” I tell her, motioning toward the winding path back to the city center.
We’re met with the joyful sound of children playing before we’ve even entered the city. Their faint laughter carries over miles of wooden terrain, and when we finally break into the clearing, my heart leaps at the sweet sight. The children are racing between chairs and the legs of adults carrying trays of fish. It seems like everyone has a job, and the market stalls shift to an outdoor restaurant before my eyes.
Tables, picnic blankets, and fur rugs cover every inch of the place. Everyone brings a plate of something to contribute. Those who didn’t bring food brought games and musical instruments, and everyone helps set up.
I immediately jump in to help the women set up the tables and arrange food, and a few people begin to play music, which turns the children’s games into dancing and singing.
The homely atmosphere is something I never realized I craved, but being here shows me just how much I’ve had to live without.
Bread, cheese, and cold meat cover the tables, along with freshly picked and peeled fruits and vegetables. Small bonfires fill the scattered fire rings around the square, and a woman begins to pour drinks from kegs of punch and water jugs.
When Lyon returns with another man and a group of kids carrying wooden platters piled high with grilled fish, I can’t help but feel a sense of pride as he interacts with his people.
This is not the man who betrayed my mother. He has truly beaten his sins and morphed into the opposite of whom he once was. Gone were the days when Lyon desired only wealth and grandeur. Now he finds contentment with his humble kingdom, dedicating himself to diligence and humility instead of greed and pride. He no longer gives in to the temptation of his sins, but he shows grace and honor instead.
As the night wears on and the bonfires burn low, the laughter and chatter die down to a murmur. I find myself sitting next to Lyon on a fur rug, staring up at the star-filled sky. “This is beautiful,” I whisper, leaning my head against his shoulder.
Lyon wraps an arm around me, pulling me closer to him. “It is,” he agrees, his gaze fixed on the stars. “But not as beautiful as you.”
I blush at his words, feeling a warmth spread through my body when some children come over to us. Lyon sits up on one elbow, looking up at their dirty faces, and their smiles brighten. “Did you bring them?” one boy asks, and Lyon chuckles.
“Don’t I always?” he asks, and the two boys and a little girl smile brightly.
One boy with sparkling green eyes spins around to look behind him. “He did bring them. I told ya! I told ya!” the boy teases. Suddenly, dozens of children rush us.
“Who doubted me?” Lyon asks, crossing his arms and giving them a mock scolding look. He clicks his tongue waiting for an answer.
“Milo, did,” a little girl speaks up. She must be around seven.
“Did he now, Mimi?” Lyon asks. She nods eagerly, looking up at him. “So can I have his?” she asks.
Lyon pulls me to my feet before I am accidentally trampled by storming little feet as children rush him from every direction. He grabs his bag and pulls the strap over my head, sitting it on my shoulder. The bag is heavy, and I glance at him, but he smiles slyly. I am tempted to look in the bag to see what causes such weight.
“Since when have I failed to bring them back from the High Kingdom?” he asks one of the boys who I assume is Milo.
“But you didn’t come down last night for dinner,” he shrugs innocently.
“So you assumed I didn’t bring them?” Lyon asks.
“He said you ate them!” The little girl laughs, and the boy hisses for her to be quiet, but she sticks her tongue out at him.
“Maybe I did,” Lyon tells them, scratching his chin. “I don’t know,” he pulls out his pockets. “I can’t feel them, so I must have,” he declares. All the kids start tugging and pulling at him, knocking him over, and they wrestle him to the ground before checking his pockets. His laughter is contagious. So many tiny hands prod and pull, and I can tell he is ticklish. “Okay, okay, I didn’t eat them! I didn’t eat them!” Lyon calls out.
“See, told ya, Milo,” Mimi huffs. Her blonde pigtails wiggle in the wind as she folds her arms across her chest, giving her meanest look, yet somehow, she only appears cuter.
“Then where are they? Milo asks. We shook you down and your pockets are empty!”
Lyon smiles deviously. “You shook me down. You’re right, I don’t have them . . .” The kids begin to pout as they let him up. His eyes go to mine, crinkling at the edges as he smiles and lifts his finger, pointing at me. “She has them,” he tells them. Simultaneously, the children all turn their big bright eyes to look at me.
“I have what?” I ask, still not having figured out what it is he promised them. When suddenly I see the inner savage that resides in Mimi.
“Get her!” she screams, and my heart soars as the kids charge at me like a herd of wild animals.
I squeal, turning and running for the fields. My laughter rings out as the kids chase me. Gnash, Hunter, and Shadow join the commotion, but they don’t seem to be helping me escape. “You’re supposed to be on my side,” I tell my wolves as they herd me into a corner.
When the kids circle me, I realize they’re after the bag Lyon placed on my shoulder, but I realize this a moment too late. One minute, I see their eager faces, and the next, I’m being mauled by tiny hands. I close my eyes, waiting to hit the ground, but the kids keep me upright as they rummage through the bag and my pockets.
