Page 64 of Throne of the Wolf Queen

I flew back to grasp the bow and quiver lying by the tree, the warning to prepare. I fumbled for arrows, fear spiking through me at how far I was from Sorrow. I had to warn them. If anything happened to⁠—

I cried as a dusty black boot slammed onto my hand, twisting, crushing my fingers till I let go. Anger, hot and hungry, tore through me as my other hand groped for the sword beneath me.

‘Fancy seeing you here, brother.’ The blood drained from my face. I cast my gaze up, meeting Ifan’s smirk. ‘Something told me to climb up here. Leave my guards behind and see what called to me.’ He tutted. ‘The empress was right to send me, then. Aren’t you supposed to be in Drufaera?

‘Or…’ – Ifan bent down, grabbed my hair, tugging me up – ‘has that poison twisted you beyond the point of return? Are you truly content to let her kill every Asmaran child?’

I thrashed against him. The prospect of Ifan being amongst this guard had never occurred to me. If I could get the cuff on him… he’d spill all the empress’s secrets. I’d understand why he chose this path. But what if he didn’t want saving? The little brother who’d grown stronger as the gap between us grew greater. Another one of my failings, I thought as his eyes widened and the cries of an emerging battle carried up from the valley beneath. He dropped my head, scrambled to the edge, swearing when he saw who his guards fought.

‘Rebels?’ His nostrils flared as he grabbed my tangled locks once more. ‘You’re working with rebels? Gods, man, you really have damned our line.’

‘Mother’s with them,’ I said, desperately gouging my nails into his hand. ‘She can help you, Ifan. She has a band of Evellum. She has⁠—’

My entire face rang as his fist slammed into my jaw. Bending my arm back, he grabbed the cuff. I swore, writhing in his grip as he yanked it free. My heart sank as fading clangs told me he’d thrown it over the ledge. I blinked tears away as he let go, standing and grasping his sword. My hand slipped as I tried to stand.

Sweat already coated my skin. My stomach roiled.

I cursed Evella as the sickness writhed in my chest. Not now. Not when I faced Ifan.

‘If it wasn’t for her, I would never have been sent there in the first place.’ Spittle flew from his sallow face, swollen veins pulsing in his neck. ‘That woman can’t help me. She has never helped me.’

He raised the sword, my stomach jolting at the revulsion in his eyes. This was not the brother who’d giggled with Skye. The one I’d allow to win at chivash just to see the smile on his face. This was a spectre, haunted by the loss of his family, forced into the custody of strangers an ocean away who bore the same poisonous brands I did. One I should have helped sooner.

I leapt to the side, his blade slicing into the ground.

‘Fuck, Ifan.’ I screamed as he bared his teeth, chest heaving. ‘You could have had my eye out with that.’

There would have been a time he’d be horrified at that. Not now, though. He didn’t give me a moment. Silver flashed towards me. Cursing, I feinted, the whisper of his sword brushing my black tunic. Finally, I unsheathed my own weapon, clumsily blocking Ifan’s strike at my neck. Vibrations rang through my trembling arm. The blade I carried was nothing more than steel, no match for Ifan’s. Screaming, he swung towards my upper thigh. Strength I never knew I possessed propelled me up as I leapt over his blade, using his momentum to slam my hilt into his upper back. Turning to face me as I swayed on buckling knees, he rolled his shoulder, as though the full force of my strength was a mere irritation.

‘It doesn’t need to be this way,’ I pleaded, adjusting my grip. But as he swiped the sweat from his forehead with his monstrous hand, I knew there was no chance I could beat him. I had to be like Sorrow, weaponise my words.

‘We’re brothers.’

Our swords rang as the blades collided, my feet slipping as he forced me back.

‘We.’ I cursed. My feet floundered as he shoved me towards the ledge. ‘Share… blood.’

His sword flew down, and I cursed, twisting to block. Ifan grunted in delight as he sliced through my blade. The dull thud of its fall echoed through my pounding mind.

The breeze whipped our hair as we stood on the ledge, and I stared wide-eyed at the boy I’d loved. A wide grin spread on his face as he cricked his neck, and I spat out the first cloying chunk of midnight bile.

‘Brother.’ Darkness laced his tone. ‘You’ve failed. Again. The more you fight her control, the more it punishes you.’

He lunged forward and I braced myself for the strike, setting my feet and raising what was left of my blade. Screaming, I managed to block him with the hilt and pushed, shoved, fought for Sorrow, for the future Ifan had denied us.

Ifan laughed as dust burst around my boots. The ledge and its promise of death were moments away. Throwing the blade aside, I grabbed his shirt, my white knuckles clutching, pleading with him for my life. My leg gave way and I closed my eyes. Within seconds, there would be no ground beneath me.

Ifan shoved his snarling face into mine. Spittle and hot breath covered me as my feet floundered. ‘Don’t worry about that little wife of yours.’ He grabbed my hand, and I couldn’t hold back a scream as he squeezed, bones crunching. ‘I’ll get Sorrow safely to the empress.’

Images of Sorrow flooded my mind. The future Ifan had stolen. A dagger stabbed into the base of my mind as my wife’s name left his lips. A force greater than Vyrium swarmed me. The thought of his hands on my wife unlocked the last vestige of my rage and a new-found strength thundered through my poisoned veins. His eyes widened as I snarled, my feet slamming into place as I grabbed his collar and flipped him. A red cloud of dust erupted around him as he groaned. There was no question of allowing him any opportunity to recover. Raising my leg, I slammed my foot towards his face, twisting away at the final second, booting him in the shoulder instead.

Then, before I could land another boot to his guts, I was dragged back by my collar. With rage tearing through me, I turned, blinking at the wild-haired man.

‘Fucker.’ Sorrow’s salvation – Hawk – peered at me, before raising a bottle over Ifan’s cowering head.

‘No.’ Wincing against the pain racking me, I threw myself before Ifan.

‘No?’