A cool cloth presses against my throbbing head. My lids flutter open, but I shut my eyes when the brightness of the room proves to be too much.
“Liana.” My name reverberates in my chest and I open my eyes to see my husband.
Memories swarm me, good and bad, but the one that stands out the most is the sight of my brave wolf coming to save me.
“Noble,” I rasp out.
He sits on a chair beside me, his eyes red and swollen, the dark circles more pronounced than I remember.
“How long?” I cough. He hands me a glass of water and I take it. My fingers brush over his hand and he pulls away. I drink most of the cool liquid in one gulp. “Thank you. How long have I been sleeping?”
“Two days,” he barks.
I flinch at his harsh tone. When I reach for his hand resting on his lap, he jerks from my touch. Blinking back tears, I stare out the window across from my room.
“You told me to fight without restraint. To never cower. Yet you cowered, you didn’t fight,” he accuses. “Instead, I had to leave my father’s funeral, a funeral brought on by your people, to save you.”
I try to swallow past the knot lodged in my throat, but it stays there despite my best efforts.
“I didn’t fight,” I agree. “I didn’t think you’d hear me or come for me. I never wanted you to leave your father’s funeral to save me, your grace, but I’m grateful all the same.”
“You didn’t think I’d come for you?” His voice echoes in the large room. “You think I’d let my wife die by the hands of one of my own?” He stands, clutching his hands by his side. “And then I hear from our healer that you have bruises that are days old. Bruises, Liana, that I knew nothing about! My pack has disgraced and mistreated my wife and rather than hear it from you, I hear about it from a healer after you cave into a fight you could’ve won without even trying.”
Another tear spills and I wretch my fingers around my sheets as I pull them closer to my chin. “I didn’t tell you about the bruises to protect you.”
“To protect me?” he shouts. His bushy brows shoot to his hairline and red tinges his face and neck.
“Yes, Noble, to protect you. On our wedding day, I promised to protect you as you promised to protect me. If I told you what your guards did to me, what would you have done?”
“I’d have dealt with them accordingly.”
“Exactly,” I agree. “You’d have fought or done whatever you wolves do when another mistreats your wife. A wife your pack despises, especially after your father’s death. If you’d taken up for me, your pack would’ve been outraged and right now, they need you more than I do.”
“And this?” He throws a ripped, crumpled piece of paper at me and my heart stalls for a few beats before it begins an erratic thumping behind my chest. “Was this to protect me, too?”
I fist Crede’s letter in my hand and will back the remaining tears. “Yes, my lord. Whether you see it or not, everything I’ve done is to protect you and our fragile relationship.”
“I’ve news for you, my lady.” He sneers. “You will not be going back to Summer. There will be no annulment. You are my wife and you belong here, not with Crede.”
Tipping my chin, I meet his tempered gaze. “Then, my king, I expect my coronation to take place soon.”
Chapter 25
Noble
How many nights has my father paced this carpet by the fire? How many times had I walked in to find him leaning against the edge of the fireplace, dark head bent, eyes locked onto the flames?
And it would have been Oren’s father who would have also joined my own, but tonight, it is me that leans against the mantle, and it is Oren who’s boots click across the stones until he is at my side.
The carpet at my feet is worn with the black wolf’s worries, and now it is mine that wears what’s left of the thread.
“You asked to see me, my king.”
I turn, wondering if it’s the right thing, guessing that my father had most likely often wondered the very same. “Do you have it?” I can barely force the words out, such is my anger.
“Yes, my lord.” Oren’s hand opens and there is my mother’s ring.
I take it from him, looking the jewel over in the firelight.
“Was this your order?” I ask, and he takes a step back in surprise.
“My lord?”
“Did you tell your men,” I pause to swallow, closing the ring tightly in my fist. “Did you tell your men to accost my wife? To steal this ring…my mother’s ring that I placed on her finger?”
Oren seems truly horrified by the idea. “No, your grace. Never, your grace. Unless you had commanded it, I would never abuse your wife, or had I known it was going on, I would have intervened.”
I breathe steadily through my nose long moments until I am satisfied that what he says is true. Releasing that burden, I relax slightly. “Can I trust you?” I ask.
I stare deeply into eyes that have always been judgmental of my every move. Oren would not have killed Katarina, of that I am certain. He would not have married a lion. He would not have allowed his own wife to be abused under his own roof. He would not have torn his kingdom in two the very same day he became king.
But Oren is not king.
I am.
“Of course, sire.”
I narrow my gaze. “I do not mean in the wolf way. The pack. I mean can I trust you with everything, Oren? Will you be the man that my father hoped you’d be? Your father was his first in command, his first line of defense, his everything. Now, after the battle, he has resigned and offered his position to you. I would give it to you freely and have no regrets, if only I could know, truly, how much I can trust you.”
“With your life,” he says, fist at his heart.
I smile, but it holds no humor. Looking at my mother’s ring again, I say, “Then it is not mine I ask for.”
His face changes. Oren knows what I mean. “The queen,” he says.
“The queen. And she will remain as such despite the rumors.”
“You can’t be serious.”
I turn to find who had spoken. Emilie is there in the shadows. Her eyes have the glint of a wolf ready to change. She stalks forward, and at first, I think she means to argue, but instead she bows. “I mean, your grace. You can’t be serious.”
I breathe deeply. “The lions killed my father. That is true. And we don’t know who had a hand in it, but neither do they. I have read a letter from Crede, and he’s no reason to lie to Liana. They were unaware.”
“But still---” I give Emilie a look that wilts her where she stands.
“I have already tasked you both with finding the truth of my father’s death. And I believe you will. But that does not mean I will accept a questioning of my command. I cannot.”
“Oren,” I say, turning toward him. “Can I trust you to protect her? With your life if need be.”
“I…I…” his shoulders slump in defeat.
“My father wanted this, Oren. If not for me, for him. Would you let the great black wolf down?”