Page 62 of Throne of the Wolf Queen

I bet she was overjoyed to learn who her new daughter-in-law was. ‘Should I call you Mother?’ I asked, sitting between two rebels.

My vision shook as she finally met my gaze, a sweet smile on my face as her jaw twitched.

‘Don’t be silly.’ She sat higher in her chair. ‘You may call me by my proper title; “dowager queen”, or as you’re now family, “the king’s mother”.’

‘I think “old queen” has quite the ring to it, don’t you?’

Raine signed, their eyes boring into Isbeth’s.

‘They’re saying: “Ladies, this really isn’t the time for a domestic”,’ Jeremiah translated for me.

Matthias snorted and a weight slammed into my stomach at the darkness in his eyes. A darkness I’d often seen mirrored in those of his brother. He clutched the band of Evellum, pressed it against his skin, and my heart lurched as I realised why he’d been given such a strange gift. What it would do to the Vyrium in his body.

The rebel who’d been glued to Matthias – Sacha – spoke the rebel leader’s words. Even if I could sign, Raine was too far for me to see what they said. ‘On our way, we came across a battalion of the empress’s cavalry. The fog set them into disarray and if we act swiftly, we can cause the maximum amount of damage.’

‘Act?’ I asked.

Raine nodded. ‘Take them prisoner, confiscate weapons, horses…’ I think they raised a brow, and I nodded, understanding my role, ignoring the twist in my guts that my gift may not be enough. ‘Apparently, they’ve already lost a number of vessels and supplies thanks to the creatures of the sea… and you, so she’s trapped into moving across the land. Your secret is out now, Your Highness. News of your gift has travelled.’ Isbeth bristled, as though she despised the thought I was of some use to them. ‘But, if we take out this force while they’re not expecting us, we can cut off her forces.’

It all made sense. I took in the blurry faces around the table, realising all eyes were on Matthias.

‘Perhaps you might persuade your husband. We need to act now. We can be ready within the hour⁠—’

‘Rebels.’ Matthias slammed his fist on the table. I jumped, my heart hammering as he leaned forward. Clearly his presence here was not of his own choice. ‘I cannot ally my throne, my name, with rebels.’

‘As you can see,’ I said, trying to calm my pulse. ‘My husband makes his own choices. I thought I’d persuaded him not to go ahead with a life-limiting tattoo, but as he resembles a decomposing toad, it’s clear I failed.’

‘Sorrow.’ His voice broke, and I glanced away. I half-expected him to break out that smile of his. Perhaps he was saving it for later. ‘You know how The Alliance will react if I work with the Midnight Insurgence. My father almost lost everything because he wanted equality and justice. I’m not in a position to do this. I’ll lose everything. He sacrificed so much to hold our throne and pass it on. I can’t lose it, Sorrow. I can’t.’

I lifted my gaze to his. My breath stuttered at the sight of his desperation. But this was bigger than his crown.

‘You have lost everything.’ His eyes closed, expression broke, but damn him. He needed to hear this. ‘Where is your throne, Matthias? Who’s sitting on it right now, because it certainly isn’t you.’

‘Sorrow…’

My eyes flicked to Isbeth. She shook her head, a warning to go easy on her son. Sod him. He needed a huge dose of truth.

I rounded on him again. ‘You lost everything. We lost everything. All you had to do was talk to me, to us, before you tattooed that shit onto your back.’

His eyes cracked open, wide, filled with pain. His mouth worked as though he needed to speak, before he slumped in the chair and gripped his hair once more.

‘While you’ve been acting on the whims of that bitch, we’ve worked together. The only way we’ll defeat her is to act as one. Not an Alliance, or an Insurgence. Not a fractured Sister or Brotherhood. Not a group of power-mad monarchs watching their thrones slip away, but one. Every person capable and willing to fight. It isn’t you allying with rebels, Matthias, it’s us. A whole continent, fighting for freedom.’

His hand moved as he turned to face me, his eyes not quite meeting my own. I knew his reasons for avoiding the rebels, but this was more important than preventing his ever-slipping crown from falling off his head. His chest heaved, and I sat straighter. I would not go to that man.

Not yet anyway.

He nodded, his hair, clumped and dull, fell into his eyes. ‘Fine, but I get to go too.’

‘No,’ Isbeth said, suddenly sitting forward. ‘I’ve lost Ifan. I’m not⁠—’

‘You lost Ifan when you sent him to Carush.’

The room stilled. Matthias’s eyes, cold, sharp, so like his brother’s, locked on his mother. Raine laid their hand on hers.

‘So, I will be fighting.’

‘And who will you be fighting for, Matthias?’ I asked, for once grateful for the swirls of my sight as his reaction was lost to me. ‘Us or that bitch you so willingly tied yourself to?’