"A special sect?" Dublin took a sharp sniff, like he’d caught the scent of bullshite coming from the pasture. "Are you telling me they’rereligiously exemptfrom being counted as part of the North American Territories?"
I gritted my jaw, too annoyed that he guessed that bit right to answer.
But my lack of response was all the Dublin King needed to press on with his counter argument.
His gaze narrowed. "So, let me get this straight. You — the Viking Sea King — and your not-so-wise pagan ally here plan to kidnap a bunch of fundamentalist she-wolves because it was written on some stone eons ago?"
"It’s more than that," Wild growled, eyes blazing. "She’s meant to be ourbanríon, you disrespectful cunt."
"Oh, lovely. I’m sure this highly circumspect Wölfennite she-wolf you want all three of us to wed will be absolutely charmed by that pious mouth of yours, Wild."
Wild smirked, his grin feral. "She won’t mind when she sees how well Ieatpie. Besides the prophecy —"
Dublin cut him off with a roll of his eyes. "Please stop quoting some ancient rock your ancestors scribbled on centuries ago."
Wild’s grin twisted into something darker. "The prophecy is real."
“Says you,” the Dublin King shot back. “For all we know, that text was just some druid playing a prank with his chisel. There wasn’t much for you lot to be doing back then. Or now, it would seem.”
“We Wild Walkers have got plenty to do, ye jackeen gobshite,” Wild growled through clenched teeth. “And every other word of the prophecy has come true. We are all the Sons of Mairi, are we not? Fighting a Second Reaping that’s already been written into the stone of fate is a waste of time.”
I nodded. “He’s right, Dublin. We would’ve died out in the 1500s if it weren’t for the first reaping. And if we want to save our kingdoms, we need to be united on this. I get why you're reluctant, and I understand why you might hesitate to pledge your wolves to this cause. They are a bit…”
“Soft,” the Wild King finished in a tone usually reserved for spitting.
“Untrained in the ways of stealth,” I corrected, throwing Wild a sharp look. “But you can still be involved. Help us coordinate, and your City Wolves will have fair access.”
Dublin, though shorter than me by a couple of inches, somehow managed to look down his nose as he replied, “While I appreciate your diplomatic attempt to persuade me into committing a heinous crime, my answer is still no.”
My chest clenched at the finality in his voice and my wolf threatened to explode out of me.
“You’re aware you’re part of the prophecy.” Unable to keep the desperation out of my voice, I lowered my head slightly, leveling my eyes with his. “We can’t fulfill it without you.”
Wild sneered. “And what do ye reckon the Tríbéirríthe will do when they realize ye’re the only king standing between them and what they’ve been waiting for?”
Dublin shrugged. “I imagine they’ll do what they should’ve done from the start. Hire mercenaries to extract this one female rather than involve our three kingdoms in a mad plan that could get usbanned from North America. Or better yet, maybe they should just talk to their potential like modern-day shifters.”
“And how’s that working out for yer City Walkers then?” Wild shot back. “Last I checked, yer population’s just as barren as ours. Now stop yer bleating and get on board before all ye’ve left to rule over is a pack of city willy.”
“Don’t you dare command me,” Dublin bared his teeth at Wild in a way that showed exactly what he was underneath that posh accent and smooth shave. “I’m not one of your ferals.”
Then the City King turned to me, his voice cool again. “And yes, I know you can’t complete the prophecy without me. Which is why I’m walking away.”
“Dublin…” I began.
But Dublin wasn’t one to posture. Without a word, he turned, leaving nothing but the sight of his black umbrella fading into the rain as he disappeared around the standing stones.
Fuck.
As we watched him go, my wolf howled despondently inside of me. We’d been so close…
“Ye can’t let him leave it this way.” Wild came up to stand beside me, his voice a somber echo ofthe same thoughts I’d been having. “It’s as yer father said. We are the ones who must do this. The prophecy must be fulfilled. Or else what did it all mean?”
Keep your noses in the air, Sons of Ireland! For the time of Mairinua will soon come!
My wolf thrashed even harder at the memory of the last words my father ever said to me — along with Wild and Dublin — after being stripped of his titles.
“Besides, yer nine and twenty, Sea King,” Wild pointed out without a gram of softness in his tone. “Are ye not sick of yer own hand yet?”
