Page 58 of A Warrior's Fate

Kai halted, and as he had before, trailed his eyes over her long and slow, taking her in one last time. Her—drenched and covered in mud and twigs and blood, probably cut and bruised.

This would be the final image of her in his head—wretched, absolutely wretched. Not a queen needed or a queen deserved.

But Kai still smiled, genuine and soft, in a way that warmed her cold bones, a way that gave that tether one last tug. “Goodnight.”

And that was it.

Isla and Ezekiel had moved in stealthy silence through most of their trip back to the infirmary. The storm had died down by the time they broke the barrier of the forest, finding themselves in the open field just before the establishment’s walls. An easy patter of droplets fell onto Isla’s skin, and she used it to scrub away some of the dirt on her face with her free hand. The other was wrapped around the fallen limb she’d acquired which hung in her grip just as heavily as her sopping clothes that made it feel like she was moving through quicksand. The night was their cloak as they trekked, the moon, maybe blissfully, masked by the remaining dark storm clouds to keep them unseen amidst the barren area.

When she’d rubbed her cheek so much that she felt the burn of skin on skin and the grit of sand, Isla brought her hand back to her side, forcing herself not to look upon it—not to attempt picturing those golden strings—but even as she glanced at the Beta of Deimos for a distraction from her mate, Kai’s voice was the one she heard in her head.

“He’s protective of our pack and of me, and sometimes he oversteps because of it. He was my father’s best friend. He’s known me since I was a pup.”

Ezekiel was yet another person that she hadn’t thought much of, who’d been caught in the wake of the tragedy. For as horrible and obnoxious as she felt the beta was, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she spoke softly, out of courtesy and to also lessen some of the tension that always held between them.

Ezekiel gave her a sideways glance, his eyes widening. The thanks that followed was muffled and low but present.

Then everything was quiet and rigid again.

In the silence, Isla’s mind became a mess, questions of every sort swirling, wave after wave crashing so hard against her that she could barely keep herself afloat.

Before, Lukas was the problem. The bak was the problem. Finding her mate was the problem. But now, everything had circled back to the query that had haunted her mind and baffled not just her, but the entire continent before she’d even stepped foot on Callisto’s territory—

What the hell had happened in Deimos?

“Does the Imperial Alpha know?” she asked Ezekiel, a foolish action she was sure, but she was too tired to care, too overwhelmed. “About Kai’s father and brother being…murdered?” The word made her gut twist.

Ezekiel went stiff and pressed his lips into a thin line before seething, “The former alpha and heir.”

She would give him that, the titles. It was a matter of respect.

She clambered to find her way back to that lady-like poise she once portrayed so well, but even still, a rasp slipped through with her annoyance as she corrected, “The former alpha and heir.”

If the beta had been pleased or displeased, he didn’t show it. “Yes.”

Isla started, thrown off by the response to a question that she’d already had a vague idea of the answer to—and she’d been wrong.

She recalled what she’d last heard from Adrien. According to him, the Imperial Alpha hadn’t heard any reports of what had happened at all. Just that they’d—died. His father usually kept Adrien in the loop about everything, so he could see and understand the true scope of what it meant to be a leader, especially one as high-ranking as he would have to be. The unforeseen murder of an alpha and an heir was unprecedented. Why keep that from him?

Isla gnawed on the inside of her cheek, pushing the thought away. “Are they looking into it?”

“You really are a presumptuous girl.” Despite his dig, Ezekiel went on, most likely to humor her. “The Imperial Alpha is meant to keep order with all of us, but first and foremost, he leads Io. This means to keep your pack on the pedestal it rests, the lesser packs must remain just that—lesser. Chaos and strife in our kingdoms are only addressed if it threatens your land or the continent’s hierarchy. Even the warriors, our land’s strongest and most elite fighters and strategists are weapons at his command to be dispersed where and when he sees fit.”

Isla regretted asking because every word out of his mouth, every word spoken with that tone, roiled her. Set her blood on fire, made her wolf shudder.

The way he’d framed it…

She understood well the scheme of the packs—how Io rested at the top of the hierarchy, how decisions and sacrifices she wasn’t entirely privy to had been made in the past—the far, far past—to maintain it. But now…things weren’t like that anymore.

“Our duty is to protect all wolves,” she battled one of his points, the one that had felt the most personal. “We serve the continent, not the Imperial Alpha.”

“The fact you cannot see that there is no difference proves to me that you are doing us a favor in forgoing your role as luna.”

At that moment, she swore her wolf howled. Grinding her teeth, Isla forced herself to move a little faster to get ahead of him, then swung the limb out, parallel to the ground, using it as a bar to block Ezekiel’s path. Now halted, she slowly moved so she was in front of him and pressed the branch to his chest, making sure there wasn’t enough force to hurt, but enough that he’d remember it was there.

That she was.

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