Page 80 of The Wolf Queen

“I can’t.” That tension was back in his face and the desperation in his tone. “I can’t, Darcy. It’ll spread and I won’t be able to stop it and I’ll—”

I moved then, the others cursing as I placed my hand above the king’s heart, over the top of his shirt, so as to not incite my mates. I sucked in a breath and felt it. The rapid beat of his heart, the noisy inhale and exhale of his breath coming faster and faster and knew. Selene had shown me how to connect with others, to create a pack, but what if…? I reached out then, tentatively, unsure of what exactly I was connecting to when I felt it.

Psychically, Bryson was just like the wolf in my nightmare, a great swirling vortex ready to suck me in. With others I connected with them, I controlled the depth of that, but not Bryson. His soul felt like it grabbed onto mine, his grip snapping tight.

“Darcy?” Weyland asked in a wary tone, creeping closer. “Darcy, tell me you’re alright. I’ll lop this bastard’s head from your shoulders if you’re not, so—”

In my dreams I had fought the pull, the feathers stripped from my wings one by one, making me unable to fly, but what if…? Nordred had taught me how to sink down into myself, become one with the weapon, but he’d also shown me how to come out of it.

“Focus on the here and now.” His face swum into view as he came to stand before me. “Is it hot or cold right now?”

My teeth chattered, my skin suddenly prickling, as if only reacting to the temperature when he drew my attention to it.

“Cold.”

“Cold like ice, or cold like a cool breeze?” Nordred asked.

“Breeze.” That part was clear, but I frowned then, searching for more words. “A winter’s wind, right before the snow comes.”

“That it is, lass,” he said with an approving nod. “So what will that mean for the farmers?”

I answered easily now, because such simple questions brought me back to the familiar. Everyone spoke of the weather and the crops, the stock animals, because that was where our food and our fortunes came from. I repeated what I’d heard, about bringing the cattle in under shelter and the sheep in one of the hollows, protected from the wind…

“Where are we?” I asked Bryson.

“What?” His eyes had a familiar glazed expression, because part of him resisted any attempt to bring his rational mind back on line.

“Where are we?” I repeated. “Is this the old king’s chambers or—”

“No, mine,” he said between gritted teeth.

“And this was always yours?” I asked, like someone might inquire idly about your day.

“No.” A sharp shake of his head. “We were in the nursery first, then given our own rooms when we were old enough to sleep alone.”

“And when was that?” I asked, peering into his eyes.

“I was three.” I frowned then, thinking that a terribly young age to be living in a massive room like this. “My brother was born and so…” He blinked, the haze leaving, and when he looked at me now, it was the king I saw, not his power. “And so I needed to show I could sleep independently, because my mother’s attention needed to be directed at him.”

He let out a long breath then and we both watched the black smoke engulf what was left of the plant. It fell apart, leaving a little of bark and dried leaves on the tiled floor and then even they broke down to nothing.

“Well, I think we’ve seen—” Dane started to say.

“Break down the pot as well,” I told Bryson. “The earth as well. Reduce it all down to nothing.”

My mates muttered, discussed with each other what they thought about this, but I couldn’t focus on them right now. I was Bryson’s tether and he felt the restriction, the security I now offered him. He smiled, a quicksilver thing, there and gone again, before he exhaled again and that’s all it took. The stone planter shattered, then the pieces crumbled, then became dust that billowed around our feet. When he was done, Bryson stepped back and looked well pleased with himself.

“If he can do that without mating marks, then there’s no need—” Gael said, stabbing his finger into the air.

“Yes, there is.” Dane knew, he always knew. I wasn’t sure if it was the new connection between us or his formidable observation skills. He prowled closer, looking the two of us over. “What she’s doing, it’s not enough, is it?”

Bryson took a shuddering breath out, then closed his hands, extinguishing the black smoke from his hands.

“It’s like a rope thrown your way when you’re drowning at sea,” he replied. “Better than nothing, but still a slim thing to be clinging to.”

“And what happens to Darcy if you tie yourself to her?” Dane shifted towards me, taking my hand and cradling it in his.

He wanted to do more, I could feel that now, this relentless tug he felt each time I got close and that’s what made me stare at him. My prince stared at the king with a degree of empathy.

---