Talons

Chapter 58: The Quiet Queen

Rhea’s POV

Every time I close my eyes, I think of the terrible things that could have occurred if I hadn’t been able to fight off those rogues. The only thing that keeps me stable is the ointment I’m making. 

The doctors told my grandfather there is nothing they can do for his legs, but that’s because they go straight for the pills and medications. 

In one of my bio-chem classes, we studied the healing properties of plants, and with the help of the internet, I’ve been drying roots to put together a balm for him.

The same way I made the scent blocker, I will make his medicine, and hopefully he will be able to wiggle his toes without wincing before I go back to school.

I head into the woods, looking for ginger roots. I used to grow some in the area, but I guess someone must’ve culled them in my absence.

I know Lark has followed me, and I don’t mind because I have nothing to hide. Still, I wish I knew what his problem was.

I find a few small roots and bring them back to the house to prepare, but my brother interrupts my work. He asks me to visit the holding cells with him and I think he is going to lock me up for not closing the door when I should have, but it becomes clear that something else is going on as soon as I see Luke.

Lark shows me a rogue who bows to me like I’m royalty and I look at my brother, who simply points to the man, but I don’t know what to say to him.

“Do I know you?” I ask, keeping my voice soft and low because I don’t want to set the otherwise calm rogue off by accident.

“Have we done something wrong my queen?” My eyes snap to my brother, and then to Luke, who looks just as uncomfortable with the situation as I am.

“Why did you attack my family?”  I question, trying to see if my brother called me for that purpose, but the rogue shakes his head at me.

“It was a mistake, we needed you to come home.” I take two steps away from the cell, and my brother uses a hand to stop me from fleeing. “Please don’t run my queen. Your magic has protected us, but when you left, we were helpless. Our children were taken.”

“I don’t understand,” I say, talking to both my brother and the rogue.

“If she is your queen, why attack her?” Luke asks, and I nod vigorously. 

“There were two groups of us. Those who wanted revenge against the queen, and those who wanted her to return; we didn’t want to hurt her.”

“Then why did someone try to mark me?” I blurt out, making all three men look at me in shock.

“You are too young; we all know that. We watched you grow with the flowers. We wanted you to come home, but no one wanted to-”

“He had an injured leg,” I interject, and the rogue's face twists into one of disgust. I can tell he knows who I’m talking about.

“He gave away our children; we shouldn’t have allowed him to come back, but he promised that he could bring you home.” I glance at Luke and Lark, who are obviously mind linking.

“How did the queen help and protect you? Explain it to me or I’ll kill her now.” Lark wraps his hands around my neck and the rogue drops to the ground, pleading for my life.

I'm so confused that I don’t know what to process first; my brother saying that he is going to kill me, or the stranger begging to exchange his life for mine; his ‘quiet queen.’

The rogue goes on to tell my brother that the flowers grew after I cried in the field. He tells him that I was hurt and went to the field to heal. He claims that my blood and tears fed the flowers.

I have no idea what the man is talking about until he vaguely mentions Sylvia. He says that I returned to the field to cry for the silver one, and I immediately know he is talking about a small plot of land that my grandparents used to take me to whenever they could.

After a flower species that I toyed with grew out of control, they suggested that I experiment on that plot only. The soil isn't great there, and anything that I grew would die before spreading. 

I also remember going there to heal after Colton found me wandering around the woods and decided that he owed me years’ worth of birthday punches. My wolf had only just emerged around that time, and it's one of the earliest memories we have together.

“What do flowers have to do with anything?” Luke asks, and my brother tightens his grip on my neck. I glance over at him, not entirely sure he is acting, and he scrunches his nose in a way that sets my mind at ease. He would use that method to warn me when I smelled of ‘experiment.’

“They help us hide from the lazy pack.” Lark releases my neck, and the rogue relaxes, sticking his arms through the bars to try and touch me, but Luke pulls me back before he can. “She needs to come home. She needs to call for the silver one, and she needs to heal the ground.”

"Tell him that I’m back," Sylvia says, and I do as she asks. The rogue's face goes blank, and he looks almost afraid.

“Then can we stay with you?” He looks at me with pleading eyes, and my heart goes out to him.  “You are like us, but you kept your mind. We need you to lead us.” I open my mouth, but Luke pulls me out of the cells before I can make a promise I can’t keep. Tears are already streaming down my face before we make it out into the open.

“B, he has gone mad. He thinks you're his queen because of your scent, but you don’t owe him anything.”

“If I hadn’t grown those flowers-”

“Him and his son would be dead.” My eyes snap to Luke’s, and he sighs. “We weren’t going to tell you, but we found children hiding in the field. For right now, they are with nannies we can trust, but they can’t stay here.” My face contorts into sadness and Luke hugs me the way a brother would. “B, if those children start claiming that you are their queen, the council will use it against you. They need rehabilitation that this pack cannot give them.”

I know Luke is right and the council is actually good toward rogue born children. They are given an education, much like living in a boarding school, and when they come of age, they can apply to any pack of their choosing.

The reason is because of the treatment the first werewolf received as a child. He shifted early and was pretty much treated poorly by his entire village. The people who treated him badly were said to be cursed by the goddess, and omegas are believed to be descendants of those families.

Rogue children are raised by guides, and many of them go on to become successful wolves. They are trained in fields that benefit the council, or they can become fighters who serve in the council’s military. It's almost like being a member of the UK’s royal guard, and comes with its own perks, so I give up without protest.

Robin’s POV

My mate links me to meet my little sister by the holding cell area and when I get there she is crying into his arms. I know what our brother did, and I hate it, but I also understand his need to confirm her innocence.

Regardless of whether B is guilty or not; if the council gains knowledge that the rogues who attacked us worship her like a deity, she’s dead.

We now know from the survivors in our pack that the rogues were fighting one another, which is probably the reason we had so little casualties. I still don’t know why, but I’m sure my mate will tell me after he has concluded his interrogation.

As I’m approaching, Luke asks me over mind link to talk to B about her experience. She hadn’t said anything before, but apparently, someone tried to force a mark on her. She has only just turned seventeen, which means she would have suffered from marking sickness, and probably would have died from the symptoms, combined with how serious her injuries were.

I gently place my hand on B’s back, not wanting to frighten her. I know she has been taking a lot on, and the stress is beginning to show. She looks tired, and while my sister has never really cared about her appearance, she has never let herself look as unkempt as she does now.

“You two should stop hugging or I might go Raven on you,” I say jokingly. My mate raises a brow while B giggles. He doesn’t know what really happened between my sisters, but he knows that they had a falling out.

Rubbing her face like a kitten, B turns to hug me instead. It has been so long since I have just hugged my sister that it feels weird, and I find myself feeling bad that anytime I seem to hug her or show her any real affection is after a calamity.

She and I start walking back to our grandparents’ cabin, where I hope I can convince her to get some rest, but she immediately settles onto the floor beneath my grandfather’s wheelchair and starts inspecting his feet.

“I think it’s working,” my grandfather says, and my little sister beams at him. My mother enters the room and shoos her away.

“No experimenting on your grandfather,” she says before she and my grandmother get into a conversation that makes me wish I hadn’t rejected the idea of learning how to speak Spanish.

B also joins in their conversation, and my grandfather and I exchange looks, feeling completely lost. He gestures for me to come over, and I drag a chair next to him.

“Everything okay?” I ask, confused that my grandfather wants to talk to me. I know he loves me, but it’s clear to everyone that B is the favorite child and grandchild. She is an affectionate girl, and truthfully, we all think she deserves the title.

“How much longer are you going to make this old man wait?” He questions, and I make a face. “Sometimes being strong means allowing yourself to be weak too.”