Page 32 of Throne of the Wolf Queen

‘No,’ I signed the words as I spoke, my aching chest heaving. ‘I’m not a whimpering child you can banish again. I’m the king. Your king. I refuse to sit on a beach wherever you want to send me. I’ve made some stupid mistakes, but I refuse to leave you to clean up my mess. I have a wife now, Mother, a wife.’

She crossed her arms, ‘Of course. Sorrow.’

My blood boiled at her tone.

‘Who, I remind you, is your queen.’ I was splitting the thin ice of her temper, but damn it. She’d always believed Sorrow was too wild, too untamed for me. ‘A woman who had no choice but to marry me. A woman who came to a strange land. Has done more to protect Asmar in our marriage than most councillors in a lifetime. I’ve watched her bleed, almost die, to save me. Give Asmar a chance. If you think for one moment, I’m going to abandon the woman I love yet again, you truly don’t understand me, Mother.’

My breath hitched as Mother finally met my gaze. She stood, her fingers clasping the ruby ring.

‘I could make you.’

A chill stole down my spine.

‘And does that poisonous shard allow you to force forgiveness?’

Her shoulders slumped, the merest fraction.

‘Because if you take this choice from me. If you force me to leave the woman I love, the country and the people I’m sworn to Evella to protect, you will no longer have a son.’

Her grip on the ring loosened. She glanced across to Raine, who shrugged their shoulders. Tears swam in her dark eyes.

‘I’m your mother, Matthias,’ she signed. ‘I need you to be safe.’

‘And I need to fix this. I need my wife, my best friend, my sister and my mother, and, by Evella, I have to fix this.’

She blew out a breath, turning to Raine, a bemused grin on their lips.

‘Cancel the boat,’ she signed. ‘We need to update our plans.’

CHAPTER 14

SORROW

As well as breaking the glass in my conservatory, your son is responsible for hiding the coronation crown while playing ‘pirates’, using curse words in Evella’s presence during a Blessing Day festival, teaching Princess Enfys a rude gesture, and he drew a phallic symbol on my ancestor’s grave. I’m happy to inform you, he and the bastard have been beaten for each misdemeanour. No need to thank me, Isbeth. It’s my duty as his warden.

​— ​LETTERS FROM ROMERO IV TO QUEEN CONSORT ISBETH

Bronzehold Keep was built six hundred years ago to strike fear and awe into the hearts of any who gazed upon it. Unlike Asmar’s seat of power, this was not intended to be a comfortable home for the royal family. This was a statement. A warning. A fortress as cold and imposing as the Thornes, who placed brutal crowns on their heads while holding court from the bronze throne.

The dramatic effect lessened the longer one lived in its stone corridors. Servants strode the halls with ease, only lowering their eyes should the royal family or nobles approach. Even with my imperial title, I couldn’t miss the sneers on their lips, the narrowing of their eyes when I passed.

For some, I would forever be the bastard princess.

So, as I stormed through the corridors, a wolf by my side and a murder of crows sweeping and cawing in my wake, fear flooded through the courtiers.

And fuck, did I love it.

A thrill raced down my spine as the blurry guards standing either side of the throne room hesitated before lowering their swords. The doors flew open, the ebony birds swept past, a tempest of feathers and shadows as the room exploded with shouts and cries. I entered, my heart thundering louder than the wings.

The birds settled within the rafters as I cast my eyes around the gloom, searching for a head of unkempt blond hair, a wrinkled shirt.

‘My queen?’

I ignored Asher, the confusion and tremor in his voice as Danté came into shaky focus, hiding behind the bronze throne, behind my younger brother. I gripped my skirts as his expression was lost within the blurs and smears of my sight.

Pablo lowered his head, snarls rippling through the now silent space. I blew out a heavy breath, cleared my lungs and stepped towards my brother, praying to Evella that something of Mama still survived inside the child.

His grey eyes widened as I approached and I wondered if the quiver in his lips was a trick of the light or true fear in the youngest Thorne.