A Queen of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 4)

By the time we were done, long shadows reached across the grounds. A collection of people had gathered around the edges of the field, sitting or standing, gazing at us with dreamy looks or fondness on their faces.

“You have quite the gift, girl,” Delaney told Sable, patting her shoulder as she passed. “Quite the gift.”

“And she is your sister?” Arleth asked me, in a different row of plants about five feet away. Her gaze kept flicking to Nyfain, roaming his face, picking out his scars.

He was staring off into the woods, waiting for me, still holding my hand. Pain and unease radiated through the bond, but he held his pose, refusing to break in front of his people.

“Yes. She doesn’t seem to be able to help plants grow like Nyfain, but she does have a beautiful voice.”

“Yes, well…” Arleth picked her way to the edge of the field before pausing. The Wyverners who were present bowed, one and all. She inclined her head, and they shuffled to the sides, clearing a path for her back to the work shed. It seemed they had forgotten the former part of her title.

“What more do you have to do?” Nyfain eyed the empty tray. “Do you need to harvest?”

I shook my head as Sable met Hannon and Dash in the crowd of onlookers. I’d been so caught up in the music that I hadn’t even noticed them drifting closer.

“I was going to, but I want to see how the plants respond to your singing. I might pick tomorrow or in a couple days, depending.”

He straddled the plants and then scooped me up, squeezing me tightly to his chest before leaving the field.

“I’ve been thinking about setting the date for our coronation,” he said, and a wave of nervous tingles flowed over me. “Before we do that, though, there are a couple of matters we need to address.”

My voice quivered. “Such as?”

The crowds only haltingly bowed for him, not entirely used to it after sixteen years of lax protocol. They did, however, quickly get out of his way, scattering to the sides as he carried me forward.

“I can walk, you know,” I murmured, draping my arms across his shoulders. I kissed his warm neck, running my lips up to his ear and sucking in an earlobe.

“Why would I let you walk when this is much more pleasant?” He squeezed around me, obviously craving the closeness like I did. “The first order of business concerns Weston.”

Tingles rolled over my skin. “I need to speak with Hadriel before you tell Weston he’s no longer needed. I want to see how attached he is to the alpha.”

“That is certainly part of the problem, yes—the wolves attaching themselves to him. I’ve met very powerful alpha wolves in the past, but none of them have called wolves the way Weston does. It’s almost like he’s a siren. I spoke with a few of our wolf shifters today, and they told me he gives them a sense of pack unity they’ve never experienced before. Ever. Our kingdom hasn’t been nurturing the other shifters.”

“And Weston makes them feel like they belong.”

“Yes. To do that takes more than just magic and power. It takes a certain type of leader. A natural-born alpha.”

“What’s the difference between a natural-born alpha and a regular alpha?”

“Common alphas achieve their status through sheer power and prowess. If they’re not royalty, they challenge for their placement. They learn to be leaders, and the better ones help their packs or townships thrive. Micah is an example of a common alpha. A natural-born alpha is someone who…just has something extra. They don’t demand loyalty—they inspire it. Weston, I’m very sure, is a natural-born alpha, with power and prowess in plenty, but also a knack for cultivating the unity and balance wolves clearly crave.”

“I think everyone craves that.”

“Maybe so, but dragons aren’t connected in the same way. It’s odd, though…”

“What’s odd?” I asked, stroking my thumb across the dark, red-tinged stubble lining his chin.

“Someone of his caliber would usually be snatched up by a wolf king. I’m surprised Weston had an average sort of pack. Large—much larger than most non-royal packs—but tucked away in a rural area, away from court. A wolf of his stature would usually seek to elevate himself.”

“Not everyone’s main goal in life is to suck up to royalty.”

“It wasn’t yours?” he asked darkly, heat soaking into his tone and then through my blood.

“It wasn’t the royalty aspect that I wanted to suck up to, it was a certain dragon that I wanted to suck on. And look, dreams do come true.”

“Dreams or nightmares—I guess it’s all in the eye of the beholder.”

“Obviously.” I kissed the corner of his lips as he entered the castle. “Which type of alpha are you?”

“The third kind. The one who inherits it and wonders if the role shouldn’t have gone to someone more deserving.”