Page 16 of Throne of the Wolf Queen

My name on her lips breaks the final thread of my resolve and in the next heartbeat, I sit before her. There’s so much I need to say, so much absolution to seek. Her brown eyes meet mine, that flash of anger that sends a thrill through me sparks across her face.

‘Sorrow.’ I swallow as her hand cups my jaw and I lean into the touch. ‘Sorrow… I… I’m sorry…’ Her thumb presses against my bottom lip as she slides forward, tilting my face this way and that. The anger fades from her eyes. Tears begin to well up instead as she blinks and leans in. A spear of panic dents my heart.

‘Are you hurt?’ I scour her expression, my brows furrowed as she bites her bottom lip. ‘Why are you⁠—’

A kiss, delicate as the petals we sit within, steals my words. I’m consumed with the flames only her mouth can spark, even as an unfamiliar darkness wells up within me. Ignoring the danger, my arms wrap around her, and I lose myself within her embrace. I tilt her head, deepening the kiss, and her whimper undoes me. My hands roam, worshipping each delicious curve of her body. Her fingers, soft and trembling, trace the top of my trousers and I grow heavy, pressing my kisses, my tongue to the hollow of her neck. She’s still not close enough, so I grasp her hips, tug her onto my lap. Goosebumps prickle over my arms as I grind into her, gasping at her breathy moan.

Her hands tangle within the strands of my hair and my mouth finds hers once more. Embers burn within, fanned by the need to claim her, to take this moment, before time or fate or whatever fucking God despises us, steals her away. I should talk, beg for my pardon, but as her nails scrape a slow path down my shoulders, all my reasoning shatters. Her mouth curves against mine as I groan, low and deep. My hand travels lower, over the body I dream of. I raise my head, desperate to watch her lose herself at my touch.

A chill steals my heat. The darkness within me rises again, swirling across my vision, dragging my hands away from the curves I’m so desperate to worship. Slowly, my fingers wrap around her neck. Sorrow’s pulse thuds beneath my palm, unaware of the danger she’s unknowingly placed herself in. There’s a thunder pounding through my skull, a warning to the woman I love. A warning my lips are unable to form as her mouth works against mine. My fingers press into her exposed flesh; my grip tightens even as I struggle against myself to free her. My hands move as though I’m a mere marionette. A soulless puppet. My fingers spread, press, tighten and I’m no longer Matthias, no more Sorrow’s slave, but her ruin. Panic consumes me as she gasps against the cruelty of my touch.

She calls my name and I rear back. Our chests heave as she pushes me away.

‘Matthias!’

My brows pinch as her fist cracks against my shoulder. The air around us stills, the birds scream a warning as the blooms blacken, crumble and decay. I reach for her, my fingers meeting nothing but wisps. I reach again and she⁠—

‘Matthias!’

I hadn’t realised my heart could rupture any further. But as my eyes cracked open, meeting Musa’s through the gloom, the bars between us, I rubbed my chest, desperate to ease the ache.

‘You were having a nightmare, my brother.’ A wide smile split his weathered face and he nodded. I blew out a breath and shoved myself up. ‘It’s all right, Matthias. Just a dream.’

No, I thought. This is the nightmare. I dragged my calloused hands down my face. Whether I slept or woke, the darkness consumed me. For a moment, I glared at Yepana’s fallen king, the friendly smile on his face, and found my fists clenching tight. If he hadn’t woken me, I’d have been able to warn her. Or kill her… I tried to banish the thought. What did the damn man think he was doing? Did he truly believe he was helping me? The now-familiar dark mist stole the edges of my vision. I’d destroy him, tear the king asunder. I’d…

I shook my head. What was wrong with me? I’d never hurt Musa, a man who’d only ever shown me the greatest kindness. The warmest smiles.

When I’d taken my first unsteady steps into The Alliance chamber, wearing a shirt I was desperate to untuck and a collar so tight I’d thought I’d die of strangulation, I’d been rather unimpressed by the then Princess of Carush. She’d simpered, giggled at inappropriate moments and, at one point, had wandered off during a nerve-racking debate only to return with paper hats for all the leaders to wear on their heads. Romero had turned puce as he demanded she were thrown out.

Looking back, it had been incredibly clever of her. Possibly the greatest con in history. No one had seen the threat. The way she hummed, wandering the halls, watching the other nine leaders. Absorbing all our tricks, working out our darkest fears while looking so clueless. She’d discovered the best way to destroy us all.

And destroy us she had. One throne after another.

Drizzle coated my skin as I stood behind the empress. The late afternoon sun hid behind a bruised sky while she addressed my people. I couldn’t even clench my jaw. Every few minutes, she cast a grin over her shoulder, delight dancing in her eyes.

‘Evella has chosen me as a vessel; a prophet,’ the empress announced to the hushed crowds. I couldn’t even blush from the shame bubbling through my veins as she spewed her lies. The empress’s steely control over me meant my people would never witness my pain, my desire to free them from the monster. They’d never know how I despised this bitch with every fibre of my being. With Ifan on her other side, it appeared as though the old, fallen line of Elmswood stood with her.

The empress had healed my infection, then etched an extra tattoo onto my still-raw flesh. I was powerless to fight her command. Stand still. Relaxed. Calm breaths. Look each former Asmaran in the eye with the hint of a smile on your face.

And smile I did, witnessing the shock and fear written on their faces as the empress spoke the new Chronicles of Evella.

‘The Gods have spoken.’ She raised her arms wide, lifted her head to the sky, blinking the sparkling beads of rain from her pale lashes. ‘Victory awaits their Vessel. Me. But, my people.’ She lowered her arms, set her gaze of poison on the people I was sworn to protect. ‘Victory is never without a price.’ She ignored the faint mutterings as she continued. ‘Tithes will increase. The armies forging this new Eusis need feeding, armour. Ale.’ She sneered. ‘But, the tithes will lower for families who hand over Anomalies to join my army. And should you present me with a Deviant, you will be Sainted, exalted as a reward for your sacrifice.’

I forced my eyes to shift towards her. The rumours spoke of a Deviant within the ranks of her army. But she’d been living within my walls for over a week and I hadn’t seen any sign of her coveted Deviant. Why would she offer such a special boon in return for one?

The empress had been on that beach. She’d watched my Sorrow raze her stepfather’s forces, raise the dead. My blood curdled as I suddenly understood why she’d kept me alive. Why my hands had found Sorrow’s throat. I was bait. A trap for the one my heart beat for.

I strode behind her as she left the stage outside the Palace of Solace, still smiling serenely at the horrified faces about me. An old man, confusion etched into his weathered face, cried out.

‘Heretic!’

She turned to face him, twisting that blood red ruby within her pale fingers, eyes wide with curiosity.

‘You’re no vessel. You don’t⁠—’

His words died as one of her guards grabbed him, slamming a dagger up through his neck and into his mouth. My boot almost slipped in his freshly spilt blood as I strode past, still with that smile on my face. The gasps and sobs of the people I’d been born to protect pierced my heart.

I had to stop the usurper. But how?