Page 58 of The Wolf Queen

They were coming, the Reavers. They’d surge up in the chapel below and obliterate everything in sight.

Starting with my children.

“No,” I whispered. “No!”

You wish to be queen?the Morrigan said.Then prove it. Fortune favours the bold.

My head jerked up as I realised I might not make it through this. My shoulder blades itched, already feeling the strike of a thousand arrows as I threw my cloak aside.

“I am Darcy, wolf queen of Strelae and Grania.” I said the words I’d heard in my vision and, just like then, I heard the courtiers snigger. How long would their laughter continue once the Reavers appeared? Bryson’s gaze flicked around the room desperately, seeming to sense what was to come, right before I delivered my order. “And you will kneel!”

I stabbed my sword into the neatly tessellated marble tile floor and a great boom of power silenced everyone. The beautiful sound of their collective knees hitting the floor felt like it echoed around me, right as my power snaked out.

The king slid off his throne, much to his chagrin. Protests, orders, complaints rose in his throat, but I silenced every single one of them. I silenced him. I twitched my head to one side, cracking my neck, and watched as his followed suit. But rather than simply relieving a persistent ache, the result was a slightly sickening sound as the king’s neck broke.

“The king is dead,” I spoke into the silence, then set my eye on Bryson. “Long live the king.”

Chapter33

Much later, my mates would question why I confirmed Bryson as king, but right at that moment, I wasn’t thinking, just reacting. And then, suddenly, so was everyone else. Whatever spell I’d cast, it was broken by the death of the king. People surged up the dais, a healer pushing courtiers to one side to confirm my diagnosis.

“He’s dead,” the man said, his face paling as he stared about him wildly. “His Majesty’s…he’s—”

“Remove my father’s body,” Bryson said, in crisp tones. “It must be prepared properly so that his soul might ascend to the heavens.”

“Of course, Your High— Your Majesty.”

“Highness,” a big bluff-looking man said, stepping forward. He wore the rich robes of a southern noble. “The king did not name a successor.”

“Which means the eldest son inherits,” my grandfather said, “as per the decision made at the sudden death of Arnald II. It was passed into law by the senate—”

“Yes, yes,” another man said, waving my grandfather away, “but we can’t allow that without ruling out foul play. This woman…”

He looked like he was about ready to set the dogs on me, but the way I firmed my grip on my sword seemed to stop him.

“This ‘woman’,” Bryson said, stepping down from the dais and coming to stand beside me, “is my wife-to-be.”

I swallowed hard. I’d handed him this opportunity, declaring myself queen and him king in the same breath. I’d been worrying more about the danger facing us and that was still in the forefront of my mind. I fought against the urge to take a step away from Bryson, because we needed this alliance, any alliance right now.

“Worry about these matters later,” I snapped. “Reavers are coming.”

“Your Highness,” said the man who’d dismissed my grandfather’s knowledge of legal imperatives, looking down his nose at me. “You can’t be serious. This is some delusional wargen brat.”

“I’m Lady Darcy of Elverston,” I shot back.

“Gods, worse then.” The man’s mouth twisted into a sour smile. “One of our own gone feral. Not queen material. Not fit for anything but working on her back in—”

Anything else he might’ve had to say was cut off by a sword pressed to the man’s throat. Bryson’s sword.

“Don’t say another word about my bride-to-be or, on my life, I’ll make you regret it.” I blinked at the vehemence in his voice. Bryson turned back to me, his manner softening. “Darcy, what do you know?”

“Callum’s worked out how to get into the chapel beneath Snowmere, how to wield the power of the crystals. He’s coming here with his Reavers. Now,” I forced out, my throat tightening with fear.

“But he can only go places he’s been before, can’t he?” Bryson asked, frowning.

“He has been here.” Dane was pale, his eyes blazing bright blue as he flipped back his hood. “He came here with Eleanor when she first crossed the border.”

“Reavers? Sounds like some kind of elite soldier. And what, you’re saying this man came here with Eleanor? You’re talking three hundred years ago, man. What nonsense is this? High—” another lord said, stopping to correct himself. “Majesty, there is a greater threat here. These wargen have infiltrated the capital under false pretences.” His eyes narrowed as he stared at my grandfather. “Brought here by Fetterling.”

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