What am I supposed to say to these people? I’m a shadow of the man my father was.
“They need to see a leader,” he says in his low scratchy voice. “They need to know their kingdom is in capable hands. Otherwise, they’ll start scheming.”
“Fine,” I grunt as I stand up, grabbing my tankard.
Morrick smacks a knife onto the flagon continuously, getting everyone’s attention. The great hall quiets when they see me standing at the head table.
My head spins. My heart aches. I just want to go to bed and sleep for days.
“My father would not want to be mourned,” I shout loud enough for every ear in the place to hear. “But he would want to be remembered. So, let’s remember him as we move into this new phasetogether.”
“Together,” the pack shouts as one.
I spot my cousin Lucan amongst his friends—the slimiest and most unscrupulous collection of wolf shifters in the kingdom. He does not repeat the word. He keeps his mouth shut.
“So, let’s remember Wolf King Axton,” I continue. “The greatest Wolf King this realm has ever seen.”
The hall erupts into cheers and shouts. I catch Lucan’s eye. He does not seem to be in agreement, although I can’t blame him for that. His father was king before mine. You can’t blame a son for thinking his father was the best.
I nod to the musicians, and the music starts back up, lively and loud. Cups crash together. Talking and laughing and dancing resumes. There is sadness, but there is also hope. And knowledge, that the pack will go on, strong as ever.
“Well done, my prince,” Morrick says as I drain my tankard and push away from the table. “Where are you going?”
My wolf stirs inside me, restless in his grief.
“There’s one more goodbye I have to make.”
I head outside with my head lowered, so I don’t have to stop and talk with anyone. I push through the crowd and sneak out the side door into the cool night air. The rain has settled into a cold mist.
The stars are out and I look them over, trying to spot a new one, trying to see one shining brighter than the others.
“Can you see me, father?” I whisper as I stumble across the grounds toward the forest, a little tipsy.
My wolf paces inside as I head through the trees, leaving the giant castle behind me.
“What do you think, boy?” I mumble, speaking to my wolf as I duck under a tree branch. “Do you think we’ll make a good Wolf King?”
He just continues pacing uneasily. Saying goodbye is always hard.
I follow the noise of the roaring river, and pretty soon, I’m stepping out of the forest and walking across the valley to the shore. The current is rough, the water level higher from the rain.
My wolf whimpers as I stand in the same place I was standing this afternoon, watching as I got the last glimpse of my father in this physical world.
I’m about to pull him out to let him say goodbye when a low, warning awareness moves up my spine like a ghost. A branch snaps behind me. I turn.
A shadow steps out of the tree line.
Then another.
And another.
Five of them in total. All threatening. All familiar. All carrying weapons—knives, spears, swords.
Lucan steps out last, unhurried, a cup still in his hand like he's just come from a celebration rather than his uncle’s funeral. He smiles when he sees my face.
“Cousin,” he says pleasantly.
My wolf growls low, urging me to let him out.
