The Warrior King's Mate

Chapter 6

My father had once been a great king; Benignitas, Integritas, Fortitudo, as on our family crest. In his reign, he achieved many great things – he gave the largest packs in each region of the Kingdom the power to settle their own land disputes, and devolved policies for these packs to best maintain their own regions’ financial and security agreements. He fought for and invested in the expansion of our kingdom to the island packs in the south, brought an end to child s*****y within packs, dictated new laws that ensured all pups received an education regardless of rank, that female warriors be trained as equals to males, to standardize dungeon cells and prisoner rights within packs, as well as securing highly lucrative treaties with human governments within our borders which ensured pack business was uninterrupted and werewolf-led businesses were allowed to thrive. In a decade’s time, pups will learn about the deeds of King Harold Carnell in school.

I would remember him differently.

My father was a fiercely proud man, and I, his only son and heir, would be an example to all of his legacy. As a child, it was a heavy burden to bear, but as an adult…he could be difficult to be around sometimes.

At the age of four, I was removed from the castle to attend private lessons in a far part of the north near the mountains, returning only for royal visits and ceremonies. Each time, my father would have me stand in the office I now occupied, my hand forced over the silver orb of our royal sceptre (there to demonstrate our power over our weaknesses), and he would hold my hand tight around the silver as it melted the skin, forcing me to repeat from memory full laws of our kind, or the family trees of whatever Kingdom he chose that day, or sometimes even to repeat policies back to him in various languages. Only when I had done as he asked, without hesitation, tears, or making a single mistake would he release me. Whatever mistakes I did make earned me a hard slap to the face, and instructions to start again from the beginning. I quickly learned to be meticulous and well prepared.

By the age of ten, my father paired me with men more than twice my age in the training ring, and used his alpha king's command for us to use no mercy. Afterwards, when I was discharged from the hospital and sent back to training, I would see the warriors who were forced to break me, rip me, scar me, begin to change. They become cold, distant. Milo would tell me his father had been forced to demote some warriors each year after they had completed training with me, and that a few – the ones with pups of their own - were replaced due to duress - struggling to cope with their guilt. A few more needed a doctor’s help to sleep. A worrying number kept returning to the training grounds, eagerly placing bets on who would manage to make the prince bleed. I quickly learned to be strong and show no weakness.

By the age of seventeen, having completed my education early with a perfect grade average, I was enrolled at a prestigious university and completed my political science degree, where I graduated at age 21, first in my class. Father did not attend my graduation and instead ordered me to return to Selinis Castle, whereupon my “real” education would begin.

For the last three years, father has drilled me, requesting I know at the drop of the hat every ranked member’s name in our kingdom. Not only that, their family names, their businesses, their population, their account numbers, phone numbers, budget constraints, their allies, how many prisoners they managed at each packhouse, the last time they were audited by the elders, etc. Mealtimes were fraught as I would sit on tenterhooks, as the crazy bastard had a tendency to throw knives at me to check my reaction times. He would schedule my day so that I was “learning the ropes”, working in his offices during the day, then spend my evenings alternating between social engagements and overseeing committees. My nights were spent being forced into the gym or the training grounds, working myself out until my muscles tore and burned, my knuckles bled, my feet blistered, never stopping, never letting up until father said 'stop'.

As a result, my muscles, mind and heart were hardened like granite. I prided myself on being a calculating man, and very little surprised me.

So, this twitchy, blonde-haired man sitting across from me in my war room, far away from prying eyes and eavesdroppers, was impossible to read. He was clearly nervous – possibly even afraid – but he wasn’t doing any of the talking.

He is afraid of us, Kane growled, his attention never once moving away from Evenard’s ever-paling face. As he should, puny King.

Kane had a point. Evenard was a small man for a king. His body was aging but bore no remnants of the strength father insisted I exhibit at all times. While standing, the top of his head sat at heights with my shoulder. Alpha's are naturally larger, fitter, stronger than other wolves, kings being even more so. Evenard's thin arms and legs, his small hands and feet all caught Kane's unimpressed eye. His sons, though tall, were also slim and wispy looking. What's more, as Kane and I kept our eyes trained on Evenard, flanked by his elders as they prattled on about building costs and landscaping at their castle in the mountains, we found him unable to sustain eye contact with us. He seemed to grow in agitation each time his elder filled even the smallest gaps in conversation within the room.

He wants to tell us something, I tell Kane. See how his eyes are flicking between us and his elder. He’s getting impatient with him, wants him to hurry up and get to the point.

Well, Kane replies, why don’t we put him out of his misery?

“Okay, that’s enough,” I cut across the Onyx Kingdom elder’s explanation of their newest fortifications. The man looked surprised at the interruption, looking hesitantly at his other companions as I leaned forward in my chair, closing the file in front of me and tossing it back to Milo. “While I appreciate you reciting the information already compiled by my beta here, I am perfectly capable of reading. Let’s get to the reason you flew your entire household into my castle in the middle of the night, Evenard. What’s happened?”

Evenard’s lip is desperate to tremble, but to his credit, the man fights for control of his obvious discomfort. He nods to the elder on his right, a short man with sallow skin and a salt and pepper beard. The elder nods and raises a large package on to the table in front of his King before turning his gaze to me, studying my face intently. The stare was infuriating and Kane snarled at the audacity of the man to stare at the face of a King. However, I had caught the sudden stillness in the rest of Evenard’s party as they eyed the package wearily, and noted the way Evenard himself turned slightly green as he stood from his chair and began unwrapping its contents.

“You know this, but your father and I were good friends once. A long time ago, it feels. Before Howard and Rowan’s little spat started….I wanted no part of it! I made that clear, and I want you to know. Howard he – he didn’t want to cow down to anyone. Pro-probably least of all you…” Evenard had the decency to wince as he said this, as if expecting his words to trigger my temper erupting in his direction.

However, I kept my eyes on the package. As Evenard spoke, he was painstakingly slow in untying layer upon layer of string and paper, like the most infuriating game of pass-the-parcel. I was beginning to feel my heart rate spike with the frustration of it, Kane even wanting to pounce forward and rip the thing open with his claws.

“I never b-believed he would b-become so obsessed with himself that Ro-Rowan would be allowed to build h-his offensive l-like this," Evenard's hands and voice trembled as he paused, the tips of his fingers white as he clutched the corners of the last piece of wrapping. "But you – you h-have to believe me I n-n-never wanted any part in this war! I shouldn’t be involved in this!”

“Involved in what, your majesty?” Milo asks, slowly getting to his feet as Dax maneuvers himself in his chair, ready to pounce in front of me at a moment's notice as the last piece of wrapping awaits removal.

“You-you m-mustn’t be angry, Howard w-was a f-f-friend and he w-wanted to r-rule all his days, H-he only asked for the m-m-money to start h-his own house, w-with his fol-followers…”

My heart pounded furiously in my ears. The old bastard knows where father is. Had he forced the poor i***t to come here as some sort of threat?

“Where is he, Evenard?” my voice was clear, icy, polite, and full of violence. I radiated every ounce of exhaustion, frustration and anger caused by the departure of my father from his throne and Kingdom, my barely contained temper making my aura fill the room menacingly. Even the sallow-faced elder backed in to his chair slightly, still studying my face intently. I noticed a strange emotion flash behind his eyes but was too intent on readying myself for the reveal of whatever his king had brought in to my office.

Evenard shook his head, his eyes closed, his lips sucking inwards. He fought to control his breath.

“He- he -he’s d-dead,” he finally said, removing the final piece of paper to reveal my father’s head placed on a bed of straw, grey-blue and white eyed, with blood blackened in his nostrils and the corners of his mouth, hanging agape and unhinged. A note nailed to his forehead, bearing the red sunset crest of Crimson Kingdom, read “The Big Bad Wolf said, I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down."