Prologue
Kieran
“Do you think he has made his decision, cousin?” Lucan asks as we race past the guards patrolling the front gate. I have a step on him as we head to the high tower where my father, the Wolf King, has his office.
“Is there any doubt?” I say with a carefree laugh, bursting through the wooden doors of the tower. “The Wolf King made his decision the second I emerged from the womb and let out a mighty howl.”
“More like a pathetic whimper while you pissed yourself,” Lucan says, grunting to try and catch up.
I leap onto the curling stone staircase and race up the tower. Lucan is right behind me.
“Whoever gets to the top first gets to be the next king,” I say, laughing as I turn the bend. A maid screams in fright, plastering herself against the wall as we run past her.
“I’ll take that deal,” Lucan says as I pass the stained-glass window of our grandfather, the great Wolf King Breyor. Heruled for four prosperous decades before he died and passed the throne onto his oldest son, Lucan’s father.
But Lucan’s father only lasted three years as the Wolf King of the Stormfur Realm before he unexpectedly died eight years ago when my cousin and I were six. My uncle had barely begun his rule before an accident at sea took his life, along with the lives of both our mothers. The ocean bordering our Western front turned rough and violent while my mother and the King and Queen were traveling up North. No one on the ship survived that horrible day.
So, the crown passed to the last remaining heir, my father, Wolf King Axton.
He has been a good king. A fair king. A strong king.
The Stormfur Realm has been prosperous and safe during his rule. King Alaric and his Moonborne Kingdom along our Eastern flank has respected our pack and our borders, and the human kingdom to the south has remained relatively peaceful. My dad has done a good job. Better than my uncle would have done, no matter what Lucan has to say about it.
My heart is racing as I fly up the steps as fast as I can. Only one floor to go.
“Get ready to bow to the next king,” I say, laughing in triumph. “You have no chance.”
But Lucan rarely plays fair. He grabs my ankle and yanks it back. I stumble on the stairs, slamming my shin against the sharp stone step. He laughs as he pushes me down and races past me.
I curse and slam my fist into the stone, jumping up to catch him.
He arrives at my father’s office first, bursting through the giant wooden doors and stepping inside.
Lucan stops at the threshold of the office, clasping his hands behind his back and lowering his head—a sign of respect—although there’s no respect in my cousin. He looks at me over his shoulder with a malicious grin as I catch up.
I bump into him with my shoulder as I take the same pose—hands behind my back, head lowered in reverence.
“King Lucan,” he whispers. “I like the sound of that.”
“Never going to happen while I’m alive,” I whisper back.
I raise my head an inch and sneak a peek at my father. He’s sitting on the other side of the vast room, speaking with his advisor amongst endless stacks of parchment. That’s what the pups of the pack get wrong. They think being a Wolf King is all danger and glory, when in reality, it is mostly meetings and paperwork.
My father’s eye meets mine and he gives me a wink. Lightness fills my chest. Pride surges through my veins as I stand a little taller.
I adore my father. Not only is he a great king, he is a wonderful dad. When I was a young pup, sitting on his shoulders as he marched through town, all of the pack showering us with smiles and kind words, I felt like the luckiest wolf shifter in the land.
“Boys,” he says, waving us in. “Join me.”
He turns his attention back to the parchment as his advisor finishes up, cleaning up the stack and taking it with him.
I look around the cavernous room, wondering if this office may be mine one day with the towering shelves of books lining the walls all the way up to the tall ceiling. A ceiling that is covered in a grand fresco of a gruesome ancient battle between my wolf ancestors and the barbarous humans.
A fire is raging in the massive stone fireplace, filling the room with the warm scent of burning wood and sending shadows flickering across the stone floor.
Lucan and I are subtly exchanging arm punches as we walk across the vast room. The old wrinkly advisor, Morrick, noticesand gives us a disapproving frown as he passes us on the way to the door.
Lucan and I both drop to our knees in front of my father’s giant oak desk.
