Page 105 of Throne of the Wolf Queen

The sky above shattered, fractured by the lightning splitting the darkness, and I couldn’t hold back the tremor racking through me. I could only pray Matthias and the wolf were heading back to Asmar, ready to retake his throne. To fight again. But I knew them too well.

I sneered, refusing to let her see how she terrified me.

‘You want to summon Vyrus.’ The Deviant gasped, shuddering against me, but I didn’t have time to check on her. I didn’t possess the strength to defeat this woman and her forces, but I had my words. I had the blood of two Gods thrumming through my heart, pulsing through my veins. The love of those souls, who I called family, whether through blood or trial, coated my skin and I had to protect them.

Only, I wasn’t sure I was enough.

‘I can see why you’d say that,’ she said, swinging the heart before her, her brown eyes locked on the ruby. ‘Perhaps I do. Perhaps that’s the reason I tore the world apart for this.’ She raised the heart.

The Deviant struggled to sit. More fissures sliced her skin as she whimpered.

I sneered. ‘But it’s not complete, is it? How will you raze the world when it’s broken?’

She lowered the ruby, let out a long breath, shoved her face into mine.

‘Where is he, Asmar?’ She raised a brow.

He? My flesh prickled.

‘Matthias?’

Her fist slammed into my already thudding jaw, and I blinked away the pain. Lights exploded behind my eyes; my chest heaved with the desperation to run her through.

‘You’ll be dead by the time your deceitful husband arrives.’ She grabbed my wrist, pulled it over the bowl and dug the dagger into my skin. Crying out, I tugged myself away as she squeezed my wrist, my blood dripping into the bowl. ‘He vexed me so. Dirty.’ She pressed harder, and I cried as my blood spilled across the bronze-flecked bowl. ‘Vile. Rebel.’

‘Careful, my empress.’ Eiriulf’s quavering voice smoothed the creases on her pale face. ‘Blood of a Deviant must be pure, not spilt, or all this will have been for naught.’

She let go. My jaw clenched as I pulled my hands towards my chest.

‘You don’t need to do this.’

She hummed as she stood.

‘I know what it feels like. To be sold to a man. You can use all this… power, this might, you’ve amassed and make this world better.’

Her eyebrows rose as she halted. My chest hitched as the words flooded from me.

‘Your legacy can be one of kindness. People could smile when they think of you. There would be… statues, temples to Delphine.’

She crashed down in front of me again, every muscle on her face quivering as she battled for breath.

‘What did you call me?’

I swallowed, sat back as she glared.

‘The empress is feared. A figure of pain, a promise of tragedy. But you don’t have to walk that path.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Kindness is a choice. The right choice. The one your heart still clings to. I know it does.’ I lowered my voice, tears biting my eyes even though I knew my words weren’t enough. ‘You could be Queen Delphine, just as you wanted. You can help shape this world into one where no woman is ever forced into a wedding bed against her will. Where every girl will admire you. Aspire to be you. You don’t need a God to gain a legacy.’

Delphine’s gaze slipped over to the crumbling Deviant at my side as Eiriulf carefully took the bowl of my blood, setting it within the candles.

The glazed shield snapped over her eyes. ‘Silly Asmar,’ she said. ‘I already have one God.’ She set her gaze on me, wiping a shadowy smear from her nose. ‘Do you ever wonder who protects the protector?’

My breath misted before me as I glanced to the side. To the Deviant who had tried to shield me even as her body failed. The empress placed her lips by my ear, her breath sending tremors through me.

‘Now, Mrs Asmar.’ Tears ran down my cheeks as the Deviant’s white eyes met mine. ‘How many of your prayers do you think she’s heard? Heard and ignored. Our desperate hearts plead with her, beg her, but when does she answer? She denied me when I needed her. Now, she’ll ensure I never, ever, ever die.’

I swallowed as the world ruptured. The Deviant’s face, a face I’d seen painted in countless icons, a face I’d cursed and praised in equal measure, turned towards me.

‘Evella?’