“What did Lucretia say?” I asked.
“She told me that—while she appreciated the way I treated her—she couldn’t stay with me. She wanted children, and I couldn’t give them to her. I took away her chance at being queen of the Pack. She’s—she was an alpha. She couldn’t stay with someone who lost the crown. She told me she was divorcing me. I wasn’t surprised. From the moment I learned they were taking the crown away, I knew my marriage was over. She’s a social mover—she’d never stay with someone who was so disgraced, even if she loved him. And she didn’t love me. We were fulfilling our duties. I didn’t argue. It wouldn’t be of any use.”
“Why did you come here?” Bran asked.
“I was running under a lot of adrenaline last night. I couldn’t handle any more stress. I grabbed my keys and left. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I just had to get away. So I drove around, trying to figure out what to do. I ended up here. I have no idea why, but I guess I thought I could just hide out while I regained my composure.” He shivered. “I didn’t even think about the weather.”
“You’re freezing,” I said. “Get in the car now.”
Faron seemed almost in a fog. I had never seen him look more broken, except when he was healing up from the injuries he had received helping Bree and me. That had been bad—very bad. I hoped to hell that the shock of what had just happened didn’t trigger some return to the amnesia he had had before.
He followed us to the truck, which had a back cab on it. As he hoisted himself into the backseat, it occurred to me that he looked like he had aged five years since I saw him a few months ago. Stress had a way of beating people down, and for Faron to say he was overwhelmed, well—it had to be bad.
Bran and I closed the doors, and Bran turned on the heat. I could hear Faron’s teeth chattering, and I looked around, then pointed to the other side of the bench seat.
“There should be a blanket beneath that seat. We keep one there in a plastic bag,” I said.
Faron found the blanket and shook it out, wrapping it around his shoulders.
“I’m so tired. I’ve been awake most of the night, just sitting down there in the basement watching the ghosts play.”
“So there are really ghosts there?” I asked.
“Oh yeah,” Faron said. There are ghosts aplenty in that old burned-out shell of the house. Right now, I think I’d rather face them than my own ghosts and demons. I just can’t believe this has happened. My life hasn’t been perfect, but the past year has been good enough. Lucretia and I were finding our way to a mutual peace. I never expected a love match when I was told I had to marry for the crown. And while we didn’t love each other, we had a mutual respect and that made up for it. She wanted to be the queen, and she played her part as best she could. I did my best to treat her well, and make sure she was happy.”
“I know you did,” I said.
During the times that Bran and I had gone out to dinner with Faron and Lucretia, it was obvious that they respected one another. I could tell there wasn’t love behind match, but there was an affection that was hard to miss. They were both doing their best to make the pack happy, and to lead it as best as they could. But now, that was shot to hell. The Pack Master had to have an heir, it was tradition.
“What did she say when you told her what the Council told you?” Bran asked.
Faron let out a long sigh. “That’s the thing—they didn’t tell me first. They told the both of us together. I don’t know what happened. Somehow, fate decided to throw me under a bus.”
“Isn’t there anything they can do? Medically?” Bran asked.
Faron shook his head. “Even if there was, it wouldn’t be allowed. Much like many of the Celtic kings of old, any disfigurement, disability, or imperfection is seen as a sign to cast out the leader. At least they didn’t kill me. That was common among some of the older tribes. In some of the high northern packs, a king who’s found wanting is driven into the snows and left to die.”
“Can’t they just evict him from the pack and let him go? And can’t they fallen kings just turn into their wolf selves and run off into the woods?” Bran asked.
Faron shook his head as we drove down the road toward our house.
“No. In fact, their shapeshifting powers are taken away, and they’re forced to trek through the snow without any protection from the weather. It’s just another way to insure they don’t come back to exact revenge. And it absolves the Pack. They can say, “We didn’t actually kill him.” The ousted leaders freeze to death if it’s winter, and during summer, they seldom make it far before being attacked by a bear or other such creature.”
“Pack life isn’t easy, is it?” I asked.
“It’s definitely not for the faint of heart. I don’t think I’ve ever entertained what it would be like to be on the outs, but truth is, plenty of shifters are considered rogue or pariah. I’m just the latest victim.” Faron seemed to be taking the blow awfully well.
“Will you ever be able to go back to them?” I asked.
“No,” Faron said. “Once you’re in exile, that’s for life. There may be a rare exception, but they’re so rare that I can’t even give you an example.”
Bran made a quick stop at the corner market nearest our house. “I’ll be right back. Both of you stay here.”
As he ran inside, I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned around so I was facing Faron, kneeling in my seat. “You can stay with us until you can figure out what to do.”
“Are you sure Bran won’t mind? I know we’ve been friendly at our couples’ dinners, and he seems to be happy to see me. But given our history…” Faron’s voice drifted off, and he turned to face the window.
“It was his suggestion.”
