Page 29 of Throne of the Wolf Queen

MATTHIAS

Punish Raul. Take our lands. Our crowns. Every scrap of Vyrium we possess. Strip us bare and brand us rebels, but I beg of you, please, by the grace of Evella, do not force me to send away my children.

​— ​TRANSCRIPT OF A SPEECH BY QUEEN ISBETH TO THE ALLIANCE

As the final guard slumped silently to the ground, eyes wide with shock, the air filled with the metallic stench of his freshly slit throat. I thought the empress’s guards belatedly realised the benefits of posting a lookout.

I exhaled my fear, inhaled resolve. There was no doubt in my mind I was about to breathe my last. The Midnight Insurgence resented my father for putting his throne before his morals, whereas my siblings and I had been shattered by the impact of his punishment. A punishment he’d never have suffered if he hadn’t listened to them in the first place. I’d heard them, the nights I’d tiptoed along the corridors, hidden behind doors, my heart hammering as they urged Father to move faster, speak louder, strike harder. When he spoke before The Alliance, the rulers’ anger and greed swelled like a river in a storm. An example was made. Those rebels they found were executed. Father faced a trial but sacrificed everything, lay down and subjected himself to The Alliance’s harsh penalties, all to ensure an Elmswood remained on Asmar’s throne.

So, as fear flooded my veins, I steadied my grip. I’d avenge Father and, more importantly, know Sorrow remained safe. Spinning the sword, I swore we’d earn our time on the other side.

‘So,’ I said, cocking my head and taking them in, ‘which one of you bastards is going to take me on?’

The figures dressed in black looked to each other, making no move to attack. I bristled, the muscles in my jaw flinching as the rebels bent down, searching the bodies. I narrowed my gaze. Did they fail to see the king in traveller’s cloaks? Why hadn’t they attacked?

A spike of confused relief and panic flooded my veins. Allowing me freedom to walk away from their massacre of the guards was no blessing. I remained bound to return Sorrow to the bloody empress. No, I couldn’t fail Sorrow again. I dragged my trembling fingers through my hair. I’d have to rile them. Force their hand no matter what.

‘Do you not know who I am?’ I swung the heavy sword, testing the weight as tears prickled behind my eyes.

One tall figure stopped padding down the jacket of the cigarillo-smoking guard long enough to peer at me. ‘’Course we know who you bloody are, Your Highness. You should put that sword away before you take someone’s eye out.’

‘What the…?’ I narrowed my gaze as he found the packet of damp cigarillos and passed them back to another shorter figure.

‘Are you the Midnight Insurgence?’ Maybe they weren’t who I thought they were? Even as the words left my mouth, more and more rebels poured out of the tree line, none of whom looked particularly keen to get into a fight with the son of the Asmaran king they so despised.

‘Look at us?’ he said, raising his arms to indicate his outfit. ‘Do you reckon we’re bleedin’ ballerinas or something?’

His friends chuckled. The sword lowered slightly in my trembling hands. I swallowed, realising they had no desire to kill me. But if I got back on my horse, I had no control over my destination. I couldn’t betray Sorrow again. Couldn’t face handing her over to that woman. This was my only chance. New rebels arrived at the camp as a fresh plan flashed through my mind. They could take me prisoner, tie me up and I’d never be able to take the road to Drufaera.

I just had to fuck them off a bit. I blew out a breath. Surely this was where I excelled?

A short, slight woman leapt over the log where the ill-fated guards had played hands of cards only a few moments earlier, heading towards me. My heart stuttered as my chance approached. Attacking an unarmed woman? They’d cut me down in a heartbeat. I wouldn’t hurt her; I just needed them to think that was my intention. Raising the sword, I swung it towards her. Gasping, she leapt back as it narrowly missed. In an instant, the others raised their swords and a myriad of weapons aimed in my direction. Good. Refusing to give them a moment to think, I lunged again. She twisted away, but the sword snagged her elbow and she cried out. Spinning on my heel, I sliced towards her⁠—

‘Matthias Raul Elmswood!’ I fell to the side, crashing to the ground, the sword narrowly missing her hip. My hair fell across my vision and I swept it away, staring up at the woman as she removed the strip of black fabric from her face.

Oh Gods.

I pushed myself up as the last bandage fell away. The anger in her voice? Those hands on her hips? Thank Evella, I’d recognised her.

Her dark hair was so much shorter than the last time I’d seen her, cut to her chin and streaked with grey. Her dark, round eyes pierced mine and by the thin line of her lips, I could tell she was seriously pissed.

In all honesty, my mother was in a constant state of anger where I was concerned.

‘What are you doing?’ She crossed her arms, and I was no longer a king, but a boy of five, who’d accidentally burnt down an entire barn. ‘It’s always swords first and consequences later with you. Didn’t you recognise me?’

The silver light of the moon shone on her high cheekbones, illuminating her slender nose and copper skin. The shock lessened and my heart lurched. I opened up my arms, flashing her the smile I knew she could never resist. Mother fell into my embrace, gripping me around my waist. I kissed the top of her silky hair.

‘In all fairness, Mother, you were dressed as a rebel.’

She chuckled and I inhaled her. My heart clenched at the familiarity of this woman. Despite our many years apart, she always carried the scent of home and tears pricked the back of my eyes as we stood in a clearing, a grown son and the mother he constantly missed.

My brows furrowed and I pushed her back, scanning my mother’s clothes. ‘Why are you dressed as a rebel, Mum?’

She arched a brow. ‘They’ve been helping me.’

I froze. If there was any evidence of the Elmswoods working with the rebels, we’d forfeit our throne. ‘Vyrus’s balls, Mother. Rebels? Why would you seek help from rebels?’

A flash of anger passed over her features. She inhaled sharply and I knew she was about to convince me I was somehow to blame. ‘I’ve spent just over a month travelling back to Asmar over two, two, continents after hearing my eldest son had got himself married, only to land and find the empress of Carush has taken my lands and my sons.’