Page 39 of Throne of the Wolf Queen

‘We don’t need the help of rebels.’ I watched as Raine wrapped one arm around Mother’s shoulders, kissed her forehead, and it was all I could do to keep my fists from flying into their face. ‘Especially them.’

‘We’re willing to help,’ they signed. ‘Despite everything that happened. Despite the animosity, we understand the empress is our biggest threat.’

Mother took my trembling hand, her eyes shining. ‘See, Matthias. You’re not alone. We’re not alone.’

I stood back. My mind swam. It seemed no matter which way I turned, I was trapped. Leave, and I’d return to the poisoned mercy of the empress. A risk to Sorrow and all we shared. The empress had made it clear that my kingdom’s children would pay a heavy price. Stay, and I was damning the Elmswood rule to the annals of history. Of all the people Mother could ally with, fall in fucking love with? Why them?

‘It seems my hands are tied,’ I said. ‘Again.’

‘Matthias—’

‘No.’ I cut Mother off, wiped the sweat from my face. ‘I want it on record; I have no wish to be beholden to the Midnight Insurgence. You do what you like, Mother. But I lost my father, my childhood, due to their actions. I can’t forgive them.’

As I turned, thick bile rose up my throat. I fell, my hands slipping through the damp leaves as I heaved. My far too heavy head collapsed into the bile as I blinked away the dots.

The last thing I saw was the panic on Mother’s face.

CHAPTER 16

SORROW

Equilibrium is vital. Once the Deviant welcomes Evella’s gifts, utilises and masters them, they must balance. The blight has no desire to rest. It turns inwards. It spoils and poisons the very blessings the Deviant carries in their core. The threads fill with ire, frustration. The Deviant’s gifts mutate. Control is lost, until finally, the Deviant destroys all they hold dear.

​— ​MRS GLESNI GRACE’S ADVICE FOR MENTORS: THIRD EDITION

I jumped as Hawk slammed his tankard against the table, wiping ale froth from his beard with his sleeve. He told me we’d been lucky to find the half-empty inn as we headed towards Ostos. But the space exploded the second our stews were shoved before us, and as a wedding party burst through the door, he’d uttered some words that forced a blush over my cheeks.

He glared as a band of fiddlers started up in the corner, and the young groom bowed low to his dark-haired bride before they held each other close and danced between the tables. I looked away, the sight of happy newlyweds souring my ale. We’d never had our second wedding, the one Matthias had promised would cement our union. There’d been too many distractions, too much at stake to waste time organising a wedding and now… now I couldn’t envisage how we’d ever get the opportunity. Our only vows tainted by the chasm his apparent abandonment had caused.

I dropped my fork with a clatter and turned towards Hawk, gravy dripping from his spoon as he sneered as the groom twirled his new wife. I glanced at his bare ring finger, the disgust flickering across his face at the happiness surrounding us.

‘Do you think we should wish them well?’ I asked, popping my half-eaten stew under the table to where Pablo had curled up.

‘I think we should warn them to run,’ Hawk replied, pushing his empty bowl across the table and grabbing another swig of his ale through curled lips.

I should leave it. I knew far too well how crushing heartache was. But this man was a walking mystery and I’d always had a curious streak.

‘Did you ever marry your⁠—’

‘I wouldn’t go there, sweetheart.’ He dragged his eyes away from the wedding party to look my way. ‘You don’t exactly have a good run in the love department yourself.’

My retort died and I swallowed down the sudden ache in my chest. Hawk snorted.

‘That pain.’ He tilted his ale towards my chest, a few drops spilling onto the already stained table. ‘It won’t go. Every morning, for those first few blinks of your eyes, everything’s fine, good. Then you remember.’ Hawk downed the last of his ale, slammed his tankard onto the table and tapped his chest. ‘And it cuts again. And again. And the one you tore your heart apart for, they just carry on as though they didn’t destroy you.’

I watched him, and for the first time, my heart twisted for the man. I shifted uncomfortably, regretting the taunts I’d hurled at him whenever he’d turned to his bottle. He exhaled, set his dark eyes on the couple, his face a mirror of the scars my own heart bore. Pablo licked my fingers and I sat straighter. This was a man I needed on my side. I knew better than most how broken his soul must be. And if I pissed him off, I may lose Matthias and my one and only way to ease my own agony.

‘Apologies,’ I said. He arched a brow, a slight tilt lifting up the corner of his mouth. ‘I-I get it.’

He raised his tankard, froth slipping over the side, and I narrowed my eyes. I could have sworn it was empty a few moments ago.

‘Here’s to drowning your memories at the bottom of a full glass, eh?’

I lifted my own tankard, clacked it against his and took a swig, trying my hardest not to spit out the ale. Gods, how could anyone drink this stuff?

‘Drowning our memories,’ I said, my eyes watering.

‘Because drowning our exes is frowned upon.’