Page 63 of Throne of the Wolf Queen

‘You, Sorrow,’ he said. Pablo placed his head on my lap, a warning rumbling through his chest and I turned away from my husband. ‘I fight for you and you alone.’

‘Good,’ Raine signed. Even my heart lurched as Isbeth sniffed, wiping her cheeks. Matthias was many things: impulsive, hot-tempered and erratic, but never cruel. Bitterness was not one of his flaws. ‘We get a few hours’ sleep. Be prepared to move at noon.’

Chairs scraped as rebels and Asmarans moved, eager for some rest before we launched an attack on the cavalry. Isbeth strode away from Matthias as though she couldn’t bear to be near him.

‘Mother?’ he called as the former Queen of Asmar swept from the room. Within a moment, the only souls left with me were the wolf and the man I couldn’t bear to face. Pablo stood, his eyes boring into him.

Matthias hissed as he stood, clutching his stomach. How would he even fight like this?

‘Sorrow.’ Gods, his voice. Tears sprung up behind my eyes. I heaved in a deep breath. Buried them deep. ‘Sorrow. I…’

Pablo laid his chin on my lap as I leaned back in the chair, refusing to meet his gaze.

‘I can’t do this, Matthias.’

He limped forward. The wolf raised his head, growling.

‘Not with that… thing on your back anyway.’

Matthias winced, twisting the Evellum band that appeared to make no difference. ‘Where… where will you sleep?’

I laid my arms on the table, placed my cheek across them and gazed out through the hazy, leaded windows. I didn’t respond.

‘Sleep well, love.’ He hesitated, waiting for me to say something.

I rested my head again, unable to even look at him right now. All those nights when I’d craved the welcome respite of sleep, clinging to the memory of the precious moments within the bower, when I’d give anything to place my hand in his, my head on his shoulder. And now he was here, a heartbeat away, where the touch I so desperately craved could lead to my downfall.

A tear slipped onto the table as I wondered if I’d ever trust him again.

CHAPTER 24

MATTHIAS

To claim Evella took lovers, bore children, is nothing more than the most debased heresy. Heresy! The decision to remove selected chapters and verses from her Chronicles will forever protect our saviour’s legacy and therefore our reputations. After all, we’re all in dire need of benefactors.

​— ​LETTERS FROM PIOUS MOTHER AUGUSTA OF THE SISTERS TO ABBOT JON II

Smacking my head against a pine tree as I watched over the enemy, high on a ledge, kept me sane. The Evellum ensured the pestilence had abated – for the time being – but still something lurked at the back of my mind. A tempest ready to claim the shattered remnants of my soul.

The wild-haired drunkard who’d somehow become Sorrow’s salvation had vanished during the few hours when I’d failed to sleep. My leg bounced as I rubbed the ache in my clenched jaw, picturing the way her shoulders had slumped, the devastation flickering across her features to find him gone. The darkest of images invaded my mind. My Sorrow, in his arms. His dark eyes lighting up as he kissed her. I grabbed my hair, desperate to purge my mind of these nightmares. The rational side of me, the part of Matthias that still remained, could see there was nothing between them. There never had been, but the toxins spreading through me seemed to relish punishing me with vile phantoms. The thought of her with someone else? Kissing her. Touching her. I squeezed my eyes tight, pressed my fists into them till I saw nothing but stars. I twisted the Evellum cuff. Perhaps it was too small? The wrong alloy? Or maybe I was beyond saving. Mother carried another one. For Ifan, she’d said. I itched my back, a darkness swirling within. Perhaps I should take it from her? My need was greater than the traitor’s, surely? I slammed my head back again, tears prickling the backs of my eyes. I needed to stop brooding, or I’d have a throbbing headache to add to my endless list of problems.

I snorted. “Problems” was an understatement. My fingers scraped across the ever-itching scabs of the tattoo binding me to a demon in human skin, a tattoo poisoning me. My country no longer existed, my people suffered atrocities at her hands. The little brother I’d sworn to Father I’d protect had turned against me. Despite how I hated it, I’d been tied to the Midnight Insurgence, so if, Evella help us, we did triumph, The Alliance had every right to claim my throne. None of the other rulers had the ghost of their father’s verdict looming over every damning interaction with the rebels. I ran my hand down my face. Even my mother was embroiled in a relationship with their commander.

And worst of all? The pain that cut sharper than the finest Vyrium blade? I lay the back of my head against the cool of the tree as I pictured her eyes. The eyes of the woman who despised me. I couldn’t blame her, not when I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t throw her on a horse and drag her back to Asmar the second we were alone. And still my lips remained locked whenever I attempted to warn her. We’d talked of honesty and truth before she straddled me in that cave. When every rock of her blessed hips offered me the salvation I’d sought, and all the time, I hid every hiss as the fresh tattoo burned against the rock behind me.

I narrowed my gaze as the empress’s cavalry tried to pull themselves into a single unit. As soon as they were mounted, every rider would land on their arse as Sorrow brought the horses to our side. My anguished pleas, my demands that my place was by her side, still remained bitter against my tongue. I’d even cornered Mother, begged her to part with her ruby, let Sorrow have it, but she’d clutched it till I thought it may slice her palms, her head shaking, claiming it was her duty to keep her children safe. Then Sorrow spoke and the fissure in my chest ruptured.

‘How many chances do you suggest I take on the fallen king? There isn’t a shred of trust left in me.’

A lone eagle circled and I focused on the soft swooping of their wings as my fists clenched. Embers flared. Surely, she should have some guilt for hiding the whole I’m actually an all-powerful Deviant who can bring back the dead in spectacular fashion. I snorted. I think my level of fuck-up eclipsed the secrets she’d held.

But still…

Shielding my eyes as the eagle slipped across the weak sun, I blew out a long breath. As soon as she’d said that, I’d backed off, agreed to the watch, ignored how the words severed me. Sorrow was down there somewhere. Perhaps she’d already been joined by her beloved Hawk.

A sharp cry from the cavalry caught my attention and I crouched over the ledge. The empress’s soldiers were spread out, and although their numbers were small, they were still well-armed and better trained than the dregs who’d been assigned my guard duty. There were certainly a number of Anomalies amongst them. They’d also be terrified of returning to the empress, robbed of their weapons and supplies. I leaned further, narrowed my eyes as one pointed wildly in the direction of the waiting rebels.

They’d been spotted.