NICKOLAS
“She knows,” I tell Eric, taking a sip of bourbon lounging in a brown armchair beside the crackling fireplace. The warm glow paints the living room in comforting hues.
Eric leans forward, his own glass in hand. “Which ‘she’?”
“Amelia,” I respond, taking another sip, my throat tightening at her name.
“How does she know?”
“I don’t know, but tonight she questioned me about it.”
“She’s sharp. It only took her the second time to figure it out.”
“Let’s hope she knows how to shut her mouth and doesn’t mess up the plan.”
“I don’t think she has anyone to spill to. Nothing to worry about.”
“Beatrice is her roommate. She might tell her, and as much as I trust Beatrice, I can’t be sure she won’t betray me for the right reasons.”
“Beatrice has known you half your life. I doubt she’d ever betray you.”
“Regardless, I need to make sure she keeps her mouth shut, and I have no idea how.”
“Do something nice for her,” Eric insists, his tone softening slightly.
“Something nice?” I echo, my brows furrowing in confusion. “Like what?”
“Yesterday, I found her in the stables. She loves horses and enjoys riding. Give her full access to the stables; let her ride whenever she wants.”
I pause, wondering if he’s lost his fucking mind.
“What?” he questions.
“Sometimes I ask myself how you’re my legal advisor.”
“Fuck you,” he says, chuckling.
“Your idea is the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”
“It’s not. I’ve thought about her using it to escape and figured out how to prevent that.”
“Enlighten me.” I set my glass down and lean back, ready to hear him out.
“If we get an earth witch to cast a spell on her, making the earth attack if she strays more than 1000 feet from the palace, I reckon we’re in the clear.”
I ponder, resting my hand under my chin. “Hmm, didn’t cross my mind.”
“Of course not. You forget earth witches aren’t only used to block other witches from finding people; they’re also handy for keeping people from leaving certain places.”
Earth witches can perform the spell he mentioned. That’s how we’ve kept Amelia’s family from tracking her. Normally, I would use it to my advantage. However, if they locate her, they could infiltrate and exit the castle before I catch wind of it, and I’ll lose my sole means of finding them for revenge.
“With all the shit I have to deal with as being king, I believe I have the fucking right to forget some witch abilities.”
“Sure, it gives you a pass. Speaking of being king, how’s Lord Easterlin taking to you fucking your mate? I presume not too well,” Eric remarks, sipping his drink.
“He hasn’t voiced his displeasure yet, but I know it’s only a matter of time.”
“And his daughter? Must be having a fit.”
“Her room took the brunt of it.”
“Expected from a lady like her.” Eric rises, heading to refill his glass. Before leaving, he adds, “Before I forget, I’ve already granted Amelia the right to ride tomorrow. I suggest finding that earth witch tonight before dawn.”
I cross my arms, gaze fixed on him, sighing deeply. He smiles and leaves the room.
***
The next day, during my annual morning council meeting, I try to drown out the relentless chatter of the old council members nagging about the necessity of a queen. I know Lord Easterlin is behind this, worried I might renege on making his daughter the queen. He should be concerned because once I find a way to dispose of him and gain full control of his troops, I will.
While pretending to listen, my attention drifts to the window, and there she is-Amelia. Dressed in a sundress, she bathes in the sunlight, an infuriating glow surrounding her. My jaw clenches at the sight of her closing her eyes and sighing deeply. Amelia doesn’t resemble a prisoner; how comfortable she appears is enraging. Her skin shouldn’t radiate under the sun. Even that fucking sad smile on her face shouldn’t be there. Despair should be the only emotion in her eyes. I clench my fists, blood boiling at how she looks like a fucking angel right now. I need to fix this, make her suffer for her ancestor’s crimes. She’s had enough freedom. Fuck what Eric said last night; I’ll use fear to shut her mouth. She needs a reminder of why she’s still alive.
“We know you’ve found your mate, but it doesn’t change anything. A werewolf has no place as queen,” Lord Kinderman interrupts, pulling me from my thoughts. I’m about to respond when Eric speaks on my behalf.
“The King knows of this, and that’s not why he hasn’t declared his wishes to marry Lord Easterlin’s daughter to the kingdom. He wishes to revenge his father’s death before he settles down and bears an heir.”
“What if we lose the King in the war? How will we survive without even a Queen?” Lord Goleman questions.
I beat Eric to reply this time. “Are you wishing death upon me, Lord Goleman?” I inquire, tilting my head as I assess the old man, equivalent to 50 years or more in human age.
His eyes widened in fear. “I would never, my King,” he hastily clarifies, bowing his head.
Smirking, I sit up. “I’ve heard your complaints. If there’s nothing else, the meeting is adjourned for today.”
“My king, you need to decide today. The Bloodmoon Gala is in a few days,” Lord Kinderman insists. I ignore him, leaving with Eric.
“Why didn’t he attend today’s meeting?” I ask Eric as we walk.
“Lord Easterlin came down with a fever this morning,” he replies.
I stop and face Eric with a pointed look. We are lycans. We don’t fucking get fevers.
He lifts his hand in surrender. “His words, not mine.”
“This is the second time he’s missed, right?”
“Yes.”
“No problem. I’ll visit him. He is, after all, my hand, and without him, the kingdom will fall. I might as well check on him and find out how a lycan as old as time got a fucking fever.”
Leaving the castle a few minutes later, I make my way to Lord Easterlin’s estate. Stepping out of the car, I adjust my Amari suit. Observing the building before me, I can’t shake the sense of familiarity between his mansion and the royal castle.
Today is the first time I’ve truly looked at the structure of his house. It’s also my first daytime visit; I’ve only attended nighttime parties here before. The creak of the grand mahogany door pulls my attention from the building’s walls to the manor’s doors. Watching the butler’s reaction, I see him pale at the sight of me. His hazel eyes widen before he hurriedly bows his head.
“Your majesty, forgive me for not welcoming you properly. My lord didn’t inform me to expect you today.” Jon, Lord Easterlin’s butler, says.
“It’s fine, Jon. I, too, didn’t know I was coming today,” I respond as I enter the grand manor, Eric trailing behind, accompanied by two guards. While unnecessary, it’s customary for the king always to have guards.
“I’ll quickly inform my lord of your arrival,” Jon hurries toward the stairs, but I halt him in his tracks.
“No need, Jon. I’d love to visit your master in his sick bed. He’s down with a fever, so ill he can’t even get out of bed, right?” I ask, arching my brows at him. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. He parts his lips to reply, but I don’t give him the chance. I walk past him, ignoring his protests that his master should be the one to come down and visit me.
We ascend the grand staircase to the third floor, and Eric moves ahead of me to open the door to Callum’s room once we arrive. My nose scrunches as the smell of various herbs hits me. As I walk further in, the sight before my eyes makes me question my immortality.