“Please stand up. I am not…” I begin, but Beatrice clamps her hand over mine, silencing me midsentence. I turn to face her, brows furrowed in confusion as she shakes her head urgently.
“They need it,” she rasps, desperation etched in the hollows of her cheeks.
“Need what?”
“Hope.”
Understanding dawns as I glance around at the sea of haunted faces turned towards me with longing. “They think I’m Jane right now, don’t they? That’s why they called me their Queen.” I bear an uncanny resemblance to her, and in their malnourished state, they can barely detect my werewolf scent. Their supernatural senses are dulled.
Beatrice gives a jerky nod. “After everything they’ve been through, they need that hope to cling to.”
My gaze rakes over their emaciated forms – the protruding bones, cracked lips, and dull eyes reflecting a haunting mix of resignation and desperate longing. What unspeakable horrors led them to this state? “What happened here, Beatrice?”
She swallows hard before beginning to recount the harrowing ordeal of the past month in a ragged voice. I listen in stunned silence as the horrific details unspool – Lord Easterlin’s bloody coup, his ruthless purge of any who refused to join his army, and the beheadings of those who defied him. He also killed Nickolas’s Uncle, Ava, and Eric.
My heart clenches at the mention of Eric’s name among the casualties. But it’s the final revelation that leaves me reeling – Lord Easterlin claiming to have killed Nickolas himself, presenting his severed head to the council as proof.
“But… that can’t be,” I sputter, my mind whirling. “Caleb already killed him. How could Easterlin…” My voice trails off as I struggle to make sense of the inconsistencies.
Beatrice can only shake her head helplessly. “I don’t know the details. I only know Easterlin displayed his head.”
My best guess is that the treacherous lord somehow obtained Nickolas’s remains from wherever Caleb left them and took credit for the kill. But how could he have known where to look in the first place? The nagging feeling that I’m missing a crucial piece of the puzzle refuses to dissipate.
“Amelia?” Caleb’s gruff voice breaks into my troubled thoughts. “What are you going to do?”
I tear my gaze from Beatrice’s haunted eyes to survey our ragtag band of ten werewolves surrounded by legions of starving lycans. We may be sworn enemies, but they are in no condition to feed themselves, not with the wasted frames of nursing mothers and children among them.
“How many men do we have with us here?” I ask, turning to Caleb.
“Ten.”
I draw a fortifying breath. “I know werewolves and lycans are not the best of friends, but right now, we can’t let that divide us. There are breastfeeding mothers and children here who need our help.”
I catch Beatrice’s eye, my expression resolute. “I suggest you send half the men to hunt for animals and bring back for them to feed. What do you think?”
A muscle ticks in Caleb’s jaw, but he gives a curt nod. “Anything for the Queen of lycans,” he bites out, a mocking lilt to his tone.
I ignore the jibe, offering him a grateful look as he turns to rapidly disperse his orders among the men. Within moments, they stream off into the forest.
“I knew you would help us,” Beatrice whispers, tears shining in her eyes as she grips my arm.
I can scarcely recognize the woman before me, so diminished from the proud, self-assured witch I met months ago. The trauma she has endured is written in every hollowed plane of her face.
“I blame my good heart,” I murmur, brushing away the dampness on her cheek with my thumb.
Her watery gaze holds mine intently. “You know he loved you, right?”
The breath catches in my throat at the oblique reference to Nickolas. I shake my head mutely, grief and betrayal welling up anew. “Unfortunately, you’re wrong,” I rasp, taking her hand and leading her toward a fallen log to sit.
“But he did, dear,” she insists, desperation tingeing her voice. “He loved you more than you can imagine.”
Tears prick my eyes as I remember Nickolas’s deception with visceral clarity. “I wish, Beatrice. I really wish he did.”
She falls silent after that, and I’m grateful, realizing she must have picked up on my reluctance to discuss him. He’s the last person I want to think about right now.
***
A wave of nausea hits me without warning, and I double over, retching violently into the nearby bushes. Bile burns my throat as I expel last night’s dinner, my body wracked with dry heaves. Gasping for air, I wipe my mouth with the back of my trembling hand, bewildered. I haven’t eaten anything out of the ordinary, so what could be causing this?
Caleb’s raised voice cuts through my muddled thoughts, and I quickly make my way towards the commotion. As I round the corner of the tents, the scene that greets me is one of escalating hostility.
“I shouldn’t have expected anything less from the likes of you. Spat!” Caleb spits vehemently at the feet of an unfamiliar woman, his face contorted with disgust.
“Caleb!” I call out, hurrying to his side and murmuring under my breath. “What’s going on?”
His jaw tightens as he turns to me, fury simmering in his eyes. “This fucking ingrate is accusing us of poisoning the animals we hunted to feed them. She’s howling at me to tell her which poison so she can find the antidote.”
I’m not surprised by the accusation – it’s only natural they would suspect us of treachery given our long-standing enmity. Still, after the efforts Caleb’s men made last night to provide sustenance, I can understand his vexation at being repaid with such hostility.
“Let me talk to her,” I say, turning towards the woman. But before I can get a word out, she cuts me off with blistering scorn.
“Don’t think because we called you Queen yesterday, you are for a second,” she sneers, her dark eyes flashing with disdain as she rakes her gaze over me in contempt. “You may be the late King’s mate, but that means nothing now that he’s gone.”
Keeping my tone measured, I offer her a placating smile. “I know it was due to the lack of blood. Don’t worry.”
Her lips curl back over her teeth in a feral snarl. “If you knew, then why the hell did you feed us? Unless you didn’t take it as us accepting you as our Queen? In which case, I’m fucking right to believe you people poisoned us!”
“No, we fed you because we can’t just stand by and watch helpless people suffering without doing anything,” I insist, struggling to keep my voice calm and reasonable.
“Helpless?” She practically spits the word, clearly affronted. “Who says we’re helpless?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I backpedal quickly, holding up my palms in a placating gesture. “What I’m trying to say is…”
“I don’t fucking care. Tell me what poison before I rip her to shred,” she snarls, cutting me off again. A rustling in the bushes behind her draws my gaze, and my eyes widen in horror as a group of lycans emerges, one of them holding Beatrice with a wicked-looking knife pressed to her throat.
“What the hell are you doing?” I cry out, instinctively taking a step forward. “Let her go!”
The lycan digs the blade deeper, drawing a thin line of crimson that trickles down Beatrice’s pale neck. She whimpers, her eyes wide with terror.
“Stop!” I scream, panic gripping my chest like icy talons. Whirling on the furious woman, I can no longer contain the rage boiling up inside me. “She’s the reason you’re even still breathing right now, and this is how you repay her?”
“Lies!” she hisses venomously. “She’s working for you. Now tell us what poison, or we’ll kill the traitor.”
My fists clench impotently at my sides as I struggle to keep my composure. “She’s not working for me! Just let her go, damn it!”
“Which poison?” the woman demands again, her voice rising to a shriek.
“There is no poison!” I shout, frustration and fear warring within me.
“Which poison?” she screams, and the lycan presses the blade deeper into Beatrice’s flesh, drawing a strangled cry.
“There is no fucking poison!” I explode, panic and fury rendering me incoherent. “There are children among you, for heaven’s sake! Who in their right mind would poison children?”
The woman’s eyes glitter with cold menace. “I don’t believe you.”
Anger thrums through my veins, burning away any lingering traces of nausea as I stalk towards her, our faces inches apart. “Don’t believe me, that’s your fucking business,” I snarl through gritted teeth. “But let me tell you something. If anything happens to Beatrice, I will kill you before you even think of taking your last breath.”
She swallows hard, her bravado faltering for the briefest moment as she meets my blazing stare. I’ve never threatened anyone like this before, but after witnessing my parents’ brutal deaths, something inside me has changed. I’m no longer that meek, helpless girl who could only beg with her tears. Now, I take what I want – or use my fists to get it.
“Mummy, I think the Queen is telling the truth,” a small voice pipes up. A little lycan girl toddles forward, clutching at the woman’s leg. “I don’t feel sick.”
I tear my gaze from the woman to offer the child a tremulous smile, my anger subsiding slightly at her innocent words. “You’re so pretty,” she says, beaming up at me.
“Thank you, dear. You’re very pretty, too.” I reach out to pat her tousled curls, but the woman yanks her behind her body with a sharp tug, shielding her protectively. An expected reaction, but it still stings.
Lifting my chin defiantly, I meet the woman’s glowering stare head-on. “Leave!” she spits, her lip curling in revulsion.
I can see the truth sinking in behind her eyes – she believes me now about the lack of poison, even if she still wants nothing to do with me or my kind.
“I will,” I reply, keeping my tone even. “But before I go, I want to say something.” I pause, letting my words sink in as I gaze around at the assembled lycans, my expression earnest.
“I know over the years, our kinds have never seen eye to eye. But I believe it doesn’t have to be that way anymore. We have a common enemy now, and nothing would serve us better than to join forces to take him down.”
My gaze flicks to Beatrice, still trembling with the knife at her throat, and my jaw tightens. “I know many of you won’t trust a werewolf to watch your back in this war. But I give you my word, we will. Lord Easterlin is a monster who must be stopped at all costs, and together, we can bring him down.”
I sweep my eyes over the ragged crowd once more, hoping against hope that some will heed my impassioned plea. “If you decide to join our forces, we’ll be at the forest entrance to the lycan kingdom. But not for long – by tomorrow morning, we’ll be gone. Goodbye, everyone.”
Turning on my heel, I stride over to Beatrice and gently pry her from her captor’s grasp, shooting him a withering glare. She sags against me, and we begin making our way back towards my tent.
“I suggest you leave today,” the woman’s voice rings out, laced with contempt. “Because no one will be joining you.”
I don’t dignify her parting shot with a response, simply continuing to walk away with Beatrice at my side. I don’t believe her words for a second. Among that ragged throng, I saw hardened warriors – including the woman herself. And I know they aren’t cowering in fear of the coming war, but because they refuse to accept Lord Easterlin’s claim to the lycan throne.
I have hope that at least some of them will see the wisdom in banding together against our common foe. Lord Easterlin has already crowned himself king of the lycan lands – the only reason he would need to amass an army is to launch an invasion of the werewolf nation next.
And I’ll be damned if I let that monster set one foot across our borders. Even if it costs me my life.