“I need someone to find information for me, information I will not be able to get myself. I am relying on you, and in return I offer you freedom once this war is won.” He said, repeating the same thing he had told me in his throne room.
Part of me was relieved it had not changed, the other was disappointed that all of our time spent together had not altered the cold Fae King at all. Whilst I was trying to keep myself together every waking moment in his presence.
“Why me? You could have picked any obedient slave in that market, yet you decided to pick me.” I asked, using the opportunity to ask him the question I had been wondering since he had handed over the money and claimed me as his slave.
“Perhaps I wanted to see how far I could push before you broke,” he offered, causing me to look up at him with shock all over my face. I had often wondered why he had chosen me, now it seemed I was just another toy for him to break.
“Bastard,” I cussed under my breath, knowing he could hear me.
“There are worse things you could call me.” He mused, a small smile lingering on his lips that threatened to douse the fire inside me with ice water and reignite one fuelled by desire.
“All of them would be true,” I scrunched my face up mockingly at him. Feeling very childish, but also powerful in the fact he had not commanded me to do as I was told. Not yet.
“Enough, I will ask you one last time. Do you trust me enough to dowhat must be done?” he whispered, his face levelled with mine as he looked into my eyes.
Searching for the answer to his question before I could even open my mouth to answer him. If I was honest, I didn't have an answer and I wasn't sure I wanted to give him one.
Chapter Eleven
Rhael
The pack house didn't recognise me anymore. It smelled wrong. All of the fond memories from my younger years faded and filled with the new feeling of judgement.
Every decision I had made since crossing over into Lycanthyr had felt measured, controlled. Nothing like the young boy who spent his summers here, running wild with friends through halls that had felt like a second home.
The long hall stretched before me, massive beams carved from ancient trees, the ceiling high enough to swallow sound and return it. Pelts lined the walls, some fresh, some old enough to have been there before even I could remember. Lights danced across the runes I had once traced with my fingers, years before I became King.
In a few hours this space would be full of wolves, all dining on a feast designed to test me, and I would have to brave it all or die. Death, for me, was not an option. Not yet.
I had not been here without Averan until this visit. My brother's voice haunted me more this time than it had done before. His absence lingered likea ghost at my shoulder, memories threatened to overwhelm me, it made everything so much harder.
“You look like you belong here,” Averan had told me during one, more enjoyable, visit.
“That is because he is less courtly like you and has more teeth like me.” Magnus had joked whilst clapping his hand over my brother's shoulder. At the time he had not been wrong, I had felt more at home in the wild kingdom of the wolves than I did in my own castle.
However, that had changed now. I was different, older, more used to the workings of the Fae Court than I had ever thought I would need to be.
That wild streak had died with my brother. Now I had to be strong, calculated, cold to the memories I had once sworn to hold so dear. It would be the death of who I once was, but I would push myself to make it work. I had to.
Magnus waited for me at the far end of the hall, standing near the central hearth with his arms crossed over his broad chest. His dark braids caught the firelight. Tattoos curled over his forearms, old runes marking him as both an Alpha and a King.
“Rhael,” my old friend greeted. His tone was rough as stone dragged across bones. No longer did he look at me like a friend, but as opposition, expecting me to beg and grovel for his acceptance.
“Magnus, once again I thank you for hearing me out,” I responded, stopping several paces away. Close enough for us to speak, far enough to avoid provoking him.
Once, we stood shoulder to shoulder in this hall. Planning campaigns, trading insults and sharing drinks like brothers, who did not share a mother but might as well have.
Now there was only distance, all of my own creation. Each betrayal I had committed had been a bridge that I had decided to burn. Knowingly, willingly. I never thought I would have to rebuild them. Yet here I was, ready to do just that.
“You bring strange things into my home,” he murmured, looking me up and down before his eyes darted back to the door behind me, gesturing towards the bedroom area where I had left Elara waiting for me.
I frowned, ever so slightly, feeling my lips turn downward, the metal of my lip ring tugging at the skin. Of all the things I had wanted to discuss, she was not one of them.
“I bring the truth,” I said, moving through the room to sit in one of the chairs off to the left. It wasn't as comfortable as the ones in my home, but it would do for the discussion we needed to have. I did not wait for Magnus’ permission.
In my own mind I didn't need to. Even if I was not in my kingdom, I was a King in my own right and I did not need to wait for anyone's permission.
“Then please, speak,” Magnus smirked, raising his eyebrows as I sat but he did not mention it further. As if he was finally seeing the new dynamic between us.
