Page 57 of The Wolf Queen

“Now that Crown Prince Bryson has deigned to join us, we can proceed,” the king said.

He was tired, I could see that in the frequent pauses and sucking breaths the king made. Clinging to life, he used what energy was left to him and directed it at his sons.

“Each one of you has grown tall and strong. Each one of you is a proud descendant of the people who claimed this land from the dreaded wargen and turned it into a bastion of culture and civility. As a result, each one of you is worthy of being considered for the role of king.”

My eyes darted around as people started to murmur, and it seemed that they hadn’t been expecting to hear that there was more than one contender for the role of monarch. However, surely it was a good sign that the king had addressed Bryson as Crown Prince, indicating his eldest son had his favour.

“The man I choose must be strong enough to bear the duty of ensuring our glorious line continues, as our forefathers would have wanted.”

“But not his foremothers…” Dane mumbled.

“He will need to lead his people through the times of scarcity as well as that of plenty, to uphold our commitment to maintaining prosperity, while never taking his eyes off the threat we face from the north.”

Bryson then, I decided in my head,because he knows that threat better than anyone here.

“Strelae is a vassal state.”

I felt my mates stiffen at the same time I did.

“It exists at our pleasure.”

Bile flooded my mouth.

“We allow the beast men to grub in the dirt to provide us with iron ore, and now that their puppet king has fallen, opportunities exist.”

Not while I still have breath in my body, I thought furiously.

“To not parlay with animals, dirtying our hands each time we hand them money for them to use against us. With a new king must come a new era.”

I searched Bryson’s face, wanting, needing to see some sort of evidence that this was not what he believed, that the man who had fought beside me had dealt with me truly, but those golden eyes stared into mine, giving me no such assurances.

“And that new king…”

I wasn’t going to allow this old bastard to stand in our way. I’d seen one king dead, I could do the same to another. I was sick to death of politics and blatant self interest, rampant greed ruling everything and everyone, so I jerked my sword from its sheath and started forward. They called it the Sword of Destiny. We would see if it could live up to its name.

“My lord king!”

My grandfather caught sight of me and knew what I was about, but rather than step out of my way, he stood in front of me, hiding me from the court.

“And who do you bring before us, Lord Fetterling?”

I watched the king’s eyes narrow as he took in my grandfather, then me behind him, my mates moving swiftly to take position by my side. The king watched my free hand go to my hood. But Bryson’s eyes widened, then he shook his head, barely perceptible to anyone but me. Those full lips pursed as his eyes widened, then parted, his tongue flicking out to–

“Well? Answer me!”

The king’s order dragged my attention back to the matter at hand. He thought he was going to deprive Bryson of the throne, deprive the whole country of the help it needed to survive Callum’s attacks and that couldn’t stand. My hand tightened around the hilt of my sword.

If I am your knife, then bid me to strike against this false king in your name, I said, making bargains I shouldn’t make, but feeling that desperation.

This one?she answered.Oh, I will not suffer him to live any longer, but I have other tools at my disposal.

And that’s when I saw it. My vision of the throne room faded, showing me another seat of power hundreds of miles away.

Callum stood covered in gore, bodies strewn around him. Blood pooled around the door that led down into the chapel beneath the old palace, leaking under the door. The light that always glowed around it dimmed and I heard the low chuckle of the Morrigan in my ears as it faded. Callum roared and his Reavers roared with him, as the door opened.

They surged forward, a brutal masculine force in a place for women, striding through the cave, shoving aside the statue of the Maiden, then the Mother, until they came here.

My bloodied handprint had faded to brown, but it was still there at the Morrigan’s chapel, but Callum’s much bigger one slapped down over top of it, his bloodied mark obliterating mine. Then he stepped into the Morrigan’s chapel and slapped his hand down on the crystal wall, just as I had.

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