The memory played across our bond like one of the TV shows Tadhg had shown me.
The then-Mountain King storming into a toy shop, dragging his queen out by her arm like he wanted as many witnesses as possible to her humiliation. His voice thundered as he accused her of all kinds of horrible things… because she’d dared to wear peep-toe flats. Not even heels. Flats.
It was easy to see why the entire town—and even Declan’s parents—had called him the Mad Mountain King behind his back.
Tadhg had been ten. Brigid, seven.
They’d begged him to stop.
But the Mad Mountain King didn’t stop. Not even when their mother collapsed to her knees on the cobblestones, sobbing and begging forgiveness for her “crimes.”
Only when she removed her shoes did he allow her to stand.
She walked back to the fortress barefoot. Her pantyhose were ripped and bloody by the time she reached the main road. Hobbling by the time she passed the tower next to the palace.
Tadhg and Brigid had been sobbing by then, too.
Declan exhaled hard after the memory faded.
“If you’ve ever wondered why there hasn’t been a shared queen in several generations… that’s the reason,” he said. “My parents had to interfere. Father pulled High King rank while Mother carried the Mountain Queen into our house. I showed Tadhgand Brigid to their rooms. That’s how Tadhg and I first became friends.”
And Brigid and Declan never quite did.
A few future flashes of her history leaked through into the story. The string of broken hearts Brigid left behind before university. The needless teenage rebellions. The endless tests she put Declan’s smitten younger brother through before finally making a commitment to him and Gregorio.
It made me feel bad for judging Declan based on her words alone. He understood why she’d been messed up. That didn’t mean he approved of her marriage to his brother.
But Tadhg… their friendship had been different.
“We weren’t just young co-kings—we became true friends,” Declan said. “They stayed with us for weeks. Until their father came to the palace and promised never to do anything like that again.”
Declan’s jaw flexed.
“Of course, that promise wasn’t kept. Over the years, the Mad Mountain King got worse. The paranoia fed on him, unchecked. Eventually, she couldn’t take it anymore.”
Declan’s other hand joined the first, folding mine in between both.
“Just a month after Tadhg got accepted to Trinity University, she ran. Went to the tower gate. The kindest version of this story says she planned to come back for Brigid… but we’ll never know. She was hit by a car almost immediately after reaching her first road in the human world. The thing was, she’d married atseventeen, and the Mad Mountain Kingneverlet her visit The Above. Supposedly, for her own protection.”
The irony of her tragic end wasn’t lost on me. And even though I’d never met that female, as a fellow long-cloistered bear… I felt her in my bones.
“So believe me when I tell you,” Declan said, “Tadhg has always known it was a curse. And he’s spent his whole life trying not to give in to it.”
Declan regarded me with a somber stare. “He took a job in The Above with me. Embedded himself in the human world. Used his tactical brilliance to execute my business plans. And he never dated any bears—not once. He was so afraid of becoming a Mad Mountain King, he practically gave up his title. I doubt he ever would’ve returned if not for you. And even then, he went out of his way not to become his father.”
Declan reached into my memory, plucking up two moments I hadn’t even realized he’d noticed.
“You asked him how he felt about sharing a queen. You asked him why he didn’t defy me getting First Claim. What he didn’t tell you was that he didn’ttrusthimself to be with you alone. He always wanted another line of defense between you and his legacy. He had no desire to risk you walking home barefoot and bleeding, the whole town watching.”
A fresh thought jolted through me.
“Then why would Brigid ask me to go into town with her, without his permission?”
Declan didn’t hesitate. “Same reason I sent him after you. It was a test. He passed it.”
More rewriting. I now saw what the other townspeople saw when he’d entered the café without warning. A story possibly about to repeat. A Mountain King who needed to prove he wasn’t his father.
Pity swelled in my chest.
