“Let me guess,” he says as soon as we’re alone, “the queen is upset.”
I nod, staring into the fire.
“Can you blame her? The Stone King’s proposal has shaken all of us. Mikkan wants us to hand her over. Many of the councilors agree.”
I growl.
“I’m with you,” Brokk says. “Handing over your Omega is unthinkable. Besides, appeasing that creature is not the way to go.” He sips at the horn, then rolls it between his palms, which he does when he is thinking. “As an Alpha, I know how deep the bond between you and your claimed mate runs. The same can’t be said, however, for her. She is new to all this—to our world, our people, to the way we mate. She was not even an Omega before she arrived. How is she meant to understand how you feel about her?”
I close my eyes as each of his words hits home like a poisoned dart.
“She’s new here, and alone. And hurting.”
I grunt. Haley is not alone. I should be at her side. But she doesn’t want me.
The wine scalds my throat when I swallow it.
“Do you want me to talk to her?” Brokk asks.
A wave of sudden possessive jealousy at the mere idea almost makes me physically shudder. “No,” I manage. Would my little lysia flower not be better suited to an Alpha like Brokk? One who can express himself easily, share his thoughts, his laughter…
I push the thought down. It makes me ache too much.
“What are we going to do about that creepy fuck?” Brokk changes the subject. “The people are scared almost out of their minds, and it’s understandable. We must protect them.”
I nod.
“Do you want me to summon the fighters?”
Arboron does not have an official army, like Aurus or Khan do. We Arborii are peaceful, nature-loving people who prefer to stay out of territorial disagreements or fights. But we will defend ourselves and our home if necessary, and we have enough Alphas and strong Betas who have pledged themselves to step up whenever the need arises. They may not have fancy uniforms or rigid military training, but does that matter when lives are at stake?
I meet Brokk’s eyes.
“Right. We should also make arrangements for those who will not be fighting to shelter somewhere safe. We can hold a couple hundred here in the palace. The others… some have bunkers. Others will find caves. I’ll send out instructions for the people to get ready.”
I take the horn, drain it, and hand it back with a nod.
“Maybe I should be the king around here,” Brokk grumbles and, despite my bad temper, I bite back a smile. We both know he’d be welcome to take my throne if he chose to.
Ulf knows, I do not want it. It was forced upon me as a ‘reward’ for defeating the Slythin all those moons ago. It was intended as a compliment, I know, but I always was so ill-suited to be king. I’ve often thought it a shame that Brokk can’t be king. Then again, I don’t know whether the Arborii would accept him taking on the role.
Brokk hooks the horn to his belt and rises. “How likely is it that we will be fighting the Slythin?” he asks. “I mean, I know you will not give up the queen, but are you planning to mount a defense, or are you going to ride into the forest and defeat them single-handedly again?”
I stroke my beard, pondering his question. There are secrets I have about the Slythin, secrets I have never told anyone. They were not always enslaved by the Stone King’s magic. But how do I explain that to my people?
“Think on it,” Brokk says. “I will have the Alpha fighters ready.” His blue gaze is frank, earnest, trustworthy.
I clap him on the shoulder.
“Actually, while we’re discussing tactics, I wanted to suggest something to you.” He lowers his voice, as he always does when disclosing sensitive information, even if we are alone. “Your advisors—especially the chief one, Mikkan—”
A growl erupts from me, surprising us both.
“Exactly,” Brokk says, leaning closer. “I find him to be more and more untrustworthy. There have been whispers that he has been behaving suspiciously. I don’t know whether it would be better to dismiss him outright, or keep a closer eye on him while letting him remain so as not to make him suspect he’s being watched, but I believe you should do something.”
“I will.” I’ve never liked any of my councilors—always flapping around me and squawking at me like the world’s most irritating birds—but I tolerate them since they do so much of the work I like least about ruling a kingdom: negotiating, paperwork, dealing with trivial complaints and disputes. Since I always saw them as a flock, one never stood out from the rest. They’re all equally annoying, as far as I’m concerned.
“It might be nothing,” Brokk continues, “but as I said, I’ve been hearing murmurs. Have you had any disagreements with Mikkan, or any of them?”
