Page 171 of A Warrior's Fate

For a second, Isla put herself in the shoes of her former alpha. Seeing Deimos getting mixed in other pack’s affairs, finding potential allies, maybe aiding in an uprising—or even worse, taking in citizens to build stronger armies for themselves.

A challenger, a potential threat to the hierarchy and Io’s highest power.

As if she could see where Isla’s mind was drifting, feel her panic rising, Ameera said, “The Imperial Alpha should know we’re not looking for a war. We would be insane to do so, given nearly half that pack goes through the Hunt for fun to get the lumerosi, with no intention of joining the warrior ranks, and warriors have flocked there for centuries. Even if we’d give them a run for their money, in the end, we’d need some serious firepower to go against them and even have a shot at not being destroyed.”

Those words weren’t comforting in the slightest.

“It’s only good grace,” Ameera continued. “Maybe the Imperial Alpha should look harder at what’s going on. If he wants that territory to fall in line for him, he should try out new leadership than the ones he put in power.”

“That he what?”

Ameera heaved a breath. “You still have a lot to learn.”

Of course, she did. She’d been mated to Kai and on the brink of queen for only a few hours.

Still, Isla lowered her head, words escaping her mouth softly. “Kai never told me any of this.”

Or maybe he had—indirectly.

He’d mentioned Charon and Io being “close”. Mentioned the easier access they would have to Deimos because of the pack’s proximity. Mentioned his father doing something that would be looked down upon, that pushed some limits. But she’d been so distracted by the diadem and the dagger and the book and everything, that she didn’t push him to further explain. To tell her about them taking in pack members. Tell her about Io putting people directly in power?

“I can only assume he didn’t think it would be a problem.”

Ameera was wrong.

He knew it was becoming a problem. Her family—the enemy.

But she kept that quiet, as Kai apparently wanted to.

Ameera held up the map. “But if Io knows, if they’re searching for proof, it could be. It means they’re seeing this as something more than it is.”

Isla could barely gulp as Alpha Cassius’s voice flooded her head. As she pictured him across from her all those months ago in his office.

“It’s hard when people forget their place.”

There was no if.

He knew.

There were fewer people on the ferry to Abalys—their next destination—than on the trolley through Mavec. Though many were out-and-about in the city, the same amount didn’t seem to want to venture down the river to the region that bordered rogue territory. Isla had so desperately wanted to visit the infamous town that Kai and the rest of his family had felt so fond of, but she couldn’t get herself to feel any excitement. Couldn’t rid her mind of other thoughts. Of refugees, of Io and Charon, of a budding war.

With a sigh, she leaned over the edge of the boat and watched the water lick the metal sides. Nothing but inky blackness lay below the vessel, as depthless a void as the dark forest running alongside the riverbank. She squinted anyway, gazing into the abyss for answers. For tendrils of shadow she’d never be able to see.

She shouldn’t have been hoping that the killer appeared. Shouldn’t have been relying on them for pieces of the puzzle to help keep them afloat as more and more kept piling on them.

It was almost nauseating how much a foe—a murderer—was feeling more like an ally.

Somehow, they knew everything. Even from the disjointed, senseless messages, she was certain of that fact. Those words and symbols were warnings of what Callan had been doing, what he’d been sent to seek. What Io knew.

But why? Why tell them? Why warn them, protect them, protect Kai, now? A few months ago, they’d wanted him as dead as his father and brother.

And what the hell did the book, the dagger, and the diadem have to do with anything?

And what the hell would she do if they found themselves at war?

No. She couldn’t worry about that. Wouldn’t let herself. Not yet, anyway.

Isla ran her hands through her hair, close to the roots, digging near her scalp, and groaned. The sound quickly became a yawn that she choked on, the pungent aroma of river water tickling at her throat.

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