Page 114 of With Fangs and Claws (The Wolf Queen 1)

Chapter 45

“Has she been pushing herself hard lately? Physically, mentally?” Nordred asked in a soft voice.

“Mother is forcing her to, and we’re fairly sure she’s trying to induce battle fever,” Weyland replied grimly. “It would solve all her problems if Darcy went berserk.”

“Going berserk didn’t use to be a life sentence,” Nordred said, his eyes searching my face. “It was a blessed state, one where we became one with Fnor, the battle god, or even the Morrigan. We became one with our bodies, our minds, our instincts and our wolf souls—”

“And then eviscerated every damn thing in its path?” Axe added drily. “Things have changed, old man. You become a killing machine, one that won’t stop. No better than the blasted Reavers.”

“That’s because you’ve lost your anchor.” The others looked at Nordred quizzically as he leaned into me, staring into my eyes. “If you go out, out, into that instinct-driven space, you need something to pull you back. That’s what you need, don’t you, Darcy? Something to pull you back. You get lost in how you’re moving, what you’re learning or what you’re feeling and then you don’t know how to come back.” He tapped my sternum. “And then your body has to compensate for it. It jerks you back, makes you deal with a very real, very present problem to keep you from flying away.”

He turned to stare down the others.

“Have you been attending these sessions with the Maidens at the temple?”

“One of us has been going whenever we can,” Weyland replied. Dane growled at that, but his brother shot him an irritated look. “Father knew what I was doing today, where I was going and wouldn’t allow it. He has no reason to. Whoever goes with Darcy needs to stay for the day. Father can’t send his soldiers in to retrieve us from the temple.”

“Or I can go,” Gael said. The others looked at him with an air of suspicion, but he just shrugged. “Just one of the many benefits to not being a prince. I can go where I bloody like, as long as I’m nowhere near the queen.”

“You need to be Darcy’s anchor and she can be yours,” Nordred said, still staring into my eyes. “You’ll be able to sink deeper into your relationship with your wolf soul, be able to tap into powers people speak of now like they were legends. And so will she.”

“And potentially stop breathing if she does,” Dane said with a frown before glancing at his brothers. “Mother can’t get word of this. She’d traumatise our mate beyond all bearing, then make sure Nordred wasn’t around to heal her.”

“Is that what this is?” I asked Nordred, and he watched my fingers run along my breastbone. “It used to come when I was working physically too hard or when Father…” I swallowed and then shook my head. “But I’ve been training here, Nordred. Fighting and fighting until I’m ready to drop and even that takes hours to come. It’s like I have no limits, when I’m caught up in it. Like there’s no end to what I can do.” I frowned then, the words sounding completely ridiculous, yet they remained true.

“There is no end to what you can do,” Nordred replied, holding my gaze as his hand wrapped around my spare one. “It’s why I’ve always pushed you so hard, trained you in preparation for this. You’re still discovering the different parts of yourself, and I’m sure they feel alien right now, strange adjuncts. But when you accept who and what you are, when your human soul fuses with your wolf soul, that’s when you’ll feel it. Nothing will hold you back again, and that will be terrifying for a whole other set of reasons.”

He scanned the group then, taking the time to look into everyone’s eyes.

“You’ll become queen.”

The words felt like a slap to my face, my head jerking up, my legs straightening and automatically moving me a step away from the table. I stared around at the complex rabbit’s warren that was Pepin’s headquarters. People were everywhere, filling rooms, reporting in, being seen to, children huddling in against their parents’ legs, and they were just a tiny sliver of the people present in the whole of Strelae. I could hear people talking, so many people talking. Planning and recounting, complaining or begging, thanking or crying, the tide of emotion feeling like it was swelling, swelling until a hand landed on my shoulder. At the brief moment of quiet, I stared into Dane’s eyes.

“We knew what you were when we first found you,” he said. “Our mate, that was clear by your scent, but the taste of you? When I sucked your finger clean of your blood, I knew.”

“We knew,” Weyland said as he stood up, the others coming closer as a result.

“Why the hell did I lick the blood off a Granian noblewoman’s fingers?” Dane asked. “It made no sense. Other two-souled have found their mates in the Granian population, and it’s common knowledge that we have to tread carefully, knowing what you are told about us. But I knew it then, somehow, what you were. Father feels like I signed a poor deal, but we don’t.”

“No,” I said, almost able to feel the heavy weight of the ermine robe around me, dragging on my steps. I’d only just learned to fly and they were going to weigh me down with this.

“Yes, Darcy. Whether you’re some offshoot of the old queen’s line, left to moulder in Grania—”

“No. No, Dane.”

“—Or something new entirely. You are the true queen of Strelae.”

“No!”

I took a step away from him, from all of them and their expectations, and I kept on taking more steps until I found the front door. I heard the men coming thundering after me as I jerked open the door then went stumbling out into the night, not sure where I was now. It didn’t seem to matter, as I ran down dark streets fast, so fast now, my legs pumping, my hands slicing through the air as I tried to outrun all of it.

The house, the people there, even poor little Del. My mates, my friends, and especially their pronouncement.

You are the true queen of Strelae, my heart beat out as I ran, not letting me escape.

And neither did he.

Arms wrapped around my middle, jerking me off my feet and into him, my claws out and raking across his face before I heard the words.

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