Page 35 of The Wolf Queen

“Though perhaps without a knife to my throat…” Bryson choked out. Dane removed it with a jerk, but didn’t sheath it.

“When it became clear what you were to become, I petitioned your father to foster you. I even turned to the king himself,” my grandfather said.

“That was a mistake,” Bryson said, touching the cut on his neck, then inspecting his fingertips. “Your petition alerted my father to the fact that it would be in his best interests if Darcy was to remain in the border country. Away from court, left to her father’s tender mercies.” His eyes met mine. “Away from me.”

“You’re saying there was a plot?” Dane looked affronted by this information, as if it was impossible that this could have been happening without him knowing. “A plot to do what?”

“To stop what must be,” my grandfather said. “Come, we can take this upstairs. I’ll have a fire set in one of the drawing rooms and—”

“What must be…?” Weyland asked, a deadly note in his voice. “What did the usurper king have planned for my mate?”

“To stop her from fulfilling her destiny,” my grandfather replied seriously, before his eyes slid back to me, and the sword in my hand. “Strelae has always been ruled by queens. She is the conduit to the power in this land. My people were only ever able to get a foothold in this country because Eleanor was weak—not a fit wielder of this.” He gestured to the sword.

“And why the hell would you work against your own king?” Gael snarled. “You stay on this land, enjoy its wealth, grow fat off it: all due to his position.”

My grandfather smiled then, but it was a bittersweet thing.

“My forebears thought that by forcing the Strelan queen across the border into Grania, that by making her marry the leader of our forces, we were cementing our position in this land. Women are chattels, little more than children, in the eyes of many of my countrymen. But they misjudged things badly. Eleanor might not have been able to wield the land’s power sufficiently to hold us back, but she did bring something else with her when she left her homeland.”

His eyes met mine and held them.

“A child of Strelan blood— the child of Eleanor and Nordred—to form the head of the next dynasty. Eleanor used her time in the nursery, and in the new court of the Lion Throne to tell the stories. She told them to her children, to those in the court who might make a difference. She told the stories that Nordred told her. Of the queen that will come. And so, even some of her other children grew up to support their mother’s cause, and found others in the court who believed the same.”

Each one of the men stared at me and the air seemed to thicken with the intent there.

“She who will bring us back to the times of yore, when the power of the land is shared with all that live upon it. She who will protect it from the darkness that threatens to rise.”

Part of me wanted to snort, to chuckle, to point my finger and laugh outright at this secretive cabal and its aims, lurking in the heart of Grania. But I didn’t. Because as my hand clasped the hilt of the sword tighter, I felt the power that they spoke of.

It flowed through me as naturally as the pulse of my blood. But it wasn’t generated by the beat of my heart, but by the power of the land and everyone within it. It was as if I could feel every person’s heart, if I so wished. And, as I had the thought, my consciousness spread outwards. To the maid who slumbered in her bed, her pulse slow and steady, to the less regular skitter of the old gardener, sitting on the stoop of his cottage, smoking a pipe. Then outwards to Middlebury itself, my awareness touching men, women and children, until I found the ones I sought.

The Maidens were all asleep in the children’s rooms, curled up on pallets on the floor beside Del and Jan’s beds. And as I saw them, I caught the moment Selene’s eyes opened. They blinked for a second, then flared bright blue as she smiled. Her pulse rate picked up, getting faster and faster, urging me onwards.

I felt as though I skimmed across the rooftops like a bird, then strode across the plains like a wolf, zooming so fast I could barely register what and who I passed. Through a garrison of too-lax men, then onward, into Strelae. I felt the sore hearts of those who were making for the border, hoping to escape their ravaged land. Then I continued past their pain, to the dark, rotten blight that now lurked in the heart of my country.

Callum lay sleeping under black sheets in the king’s bed. He appeared almost innocent in his repose. I heard that familiar flap of wings, underscored by the chuckle of the Morrigan, right before I reached out, as I realised that if I could draw power from the hearts of men, I could crush them, too. I dimly became aware of cries in the background, distracting me from my goal. Hands slapped down on my shoulders, my hand, trying to wrest the sword out of my grip, and I became aware of another sound. Blood spattering on the stones, dripping from my nose.

“Darcy!” someone shouted, trying to pull me back, even as Callum’s eyes flicked open, staring into mine. His lips curled for a second, in a victorious smile, right before I plunged my disembodied hand into his chest. I was like my mother, made up of pure energy, so muscle and bone made no difference to me. And I found out something I hadn’t known before.

To stay alive through all these years, Callum pulled energy from the land. He was a parasite stuck to its side, feeding greedily, but I could stop it. I could stop him.

“Darcy!”

I searched for it furiously, the means to stop his damn heart from beating, spurred on by seeing Callum’s smile fade and his fingers start clawing at his chest. I felt the ball of muscle in his chest stutter in my grip and I squeezed it, as if to wring all of the blood out. I watched Callum’s face turn grey, the bones of his skull seeming to press forward, turning it into a death’s head.

“Darcy!”

I came back to myself, to the cave with a sudden snap, to find Gael standing before me, one hand on my shoulder, the other trying to staunch the gush of blood from my nose. Everything hurt, in ways I hadn’t experienced for some time, and my cries of pain were muffled by the slide of blood down my throat.

You want to wield my power?the Morrigan said, inside my head.Then you must prove yourself worthy. You are but one possibility, little queen.

I couldn’t say a thing in response, as the darkness that always followed her seemed to rise up and swallow everything, pulling me down, down, down into its depths.

Chapter23

I woke sometime later, feeling very warm.

As I blinked, I groaned and shut my eyes again quickly. My head felt heavy and hard to lift, and my eyelids felt the same way. My body felt swollen, sore, wrong, right up until I forced my eyes open. Axe held me in his arms, gazing down at me with such rapt attention that when I did waken, his hand moved to caress my cheek.

---