It should not have been possible. I had never said those words to anyone—not even my family. And yet Veyka—this Queen of Secrets, as she’d proclaimed herself at our first meeting—her soul spoke to mine in languages that my mind could not comprehend.
Why can’t I fucking remember?
I wanted to.
I wanted to know what words had passed between us. What touches. Promises.
If I had loved her… did love her… as much as everyone around us seemed to believe, as my beast insisted with every snarl, how had it happened? Why had I been given such a thing, only to have it taken away?
For killing.
Three hundred years spent being the worst version of myself. A male who killed with impudence. When I planned a battle, I did not think about how to ensure the least deaths. I thought about winning. Glory for Annwyn, and ultimately, glory for myself. Power, to protect my mother. A reputation for violence that protected my family even when I could not be at Eilean Gayl myself.
Selfish.
I had not done my duty because I cared about the citizens of Annwyn. It was all for me. I was not worthy of love. That was the part of myself that I never let anyone else see.
But had I shown it to Veyka?
She turned, as if she could hear the intensity of her name flashing through my consciousness.
Lyrena sat at her side, their heads tipped together as they spoke quietly. The golden knight said something to make herself laugh. Veyka’s full, pink lips quirked slightly. Then she rolled her eyes.
They snagged on me.
The smile dropped away.
Barkke shoved a cold sausage roll and a flask of mulled wine into my hands. I wanted to let the hot liquid slosh all over him, the ass. But I’d been scouting ahead in my wolf form and had missed breakfast.
If I took the food, maybe he would leave me alone.
Instead, he took a bite of his own luncheon, flakes of pastry sticking in his beard. “Trouble in paradise?” he said around a mouthful.
“You are an ass.”
“And your friend.”
Friend. Had I ever really had those? Barkke and I had grown up with one another. His father had brought him to Eilean Gayl as an offering. An agemate, to train alongside the monster of the north. I had not seen him in decades, though he appeared unchanged.
Guinevere was the closest to a friend I’d had in maturity. A competent lieutenant, proving her prowess and power on and off the battlefield. When Uther Pendragon died and Arthur assumed the throne, she’d left the war camps and went to Wolf Bay to compete for the title of Terrestrial Heir.
How would I have described Veyka, if I’d had my memories?
Mate,my beast growled.
A word whose implications I might never sort out.
I was still watching her, even as I ate. Even as Barkke blathered on.
“…all I am saying is that if I had a female like that waiting in my bedroll, I would not be sleeping outside,” Barkke said.
Stupidly.
The beast inside of me surged up, ready to kill.Mine.
Barkke met the death in my eyes with an irreverent grin, wiping droplets of mulled wine from his beard. He looked past me to Veyka.
His eyes glowed.
