Secrets in the Wolf King's Castle

Families

The next morning, Lyria was having an early breakfast when she heard her youngest son’s voice.

“Mother!” He still spoke in the high, soft voice of a young pup.

“Baiden,” she smiled at him over a goblet of lemon water. “How are you?” she opened her arms wide and he immediately hopped into her lap, snuggling against her.

“Can I have some sausage?” he asked hopefully, eyeing her plate.

Lyria laughed and pulled the plate closer, so that his little hands could help themselves. “If you want breakfast, you can just go ask in the kitchen,” she pretended to chide him as he grabbed a fistful of sausages. Behind her, she saw out of the very corner of her vision that an Omega was whisking away to get a platter with more food.

“No,” Baiden spoke quietly, mouth full of food. “It tastes better when it’s yours!”

Lyria just laughed and ruffled his hair affectionately.

The two of them sat companionably together in silence. Lyria savored a breakfast biscuit while Baiden slowly stole all of the sausages on her plate. It was only a few short moments before an Omega brought out a large, steaming platter piled high with extra sausages, meats, biscuits, and cheeses.

“Thank you,” Lyria said, with a smile at the young wolf. The Omega, who Lyria knew by face, bowed stiffly. She was relatively new, and still nervous around the King and Queen. Lyria had the sense that she may have been from a pack that was not kind to their Omegas, but had not yet figured out how to ask the wolf to confirm her suspicions. Now that she was Luna Queen, Lyria found that many people forgot her humble beginnings.

“I brought extra in case the other Princes and Princesses join you, Your Majesty,” the Omega said in a soft voice.

“You brought quite a lot,” Lyria hummed, her voice approving. “Have you eaten?”

“No, Your Majesty,” the girl said, unable to suppress a slight look of surprise.

“You aren’t from Cyrrillest, are you?”

“No,” the Omega said, averting her eyes. This was often considered another point of shame. But Lyria just smiled broader.

“Nor am I,” Lyria pointed out. “Sit. Please, have something to eat.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” the Omega stuttered.

“Of course you could, it’s delicious!”

“I…” the Omega’s eyes darted around the room

“I will be quite offended if you don’t,” Lyria said with a giggle.

From her lap, Baiden nodded. “Yes, offented!” he offered. To emphasize his point, his banged a little fist on the table. “Can I have some water?” he asked his mother.

She poured a goblet for him while still studying the young Omega, who finally sat down nervously.

“Offented!” Baiden offered again, smiling. Now, he hopped off his mother’s lap. “I wonder if Ruby has any candy…” he looked over at the door which led to the kitchens.

“You can have one piece of candy,” Lyria told her son. “But don’t bother Ruthalie, if she doesn’t have any you’ll have to wait until tonight. Don’t ask her to make it special for you!” She called as the pup raced off.

Lyria gave an amused sigh. She knew perfectly well that Ruthalie would drop whatever she was doing to dote on the boy, who couldn’t quite pronounce her name yet and called her Ruby, and who followed her around all day. Baiden had taken an interest in cooking, declaring that one day he would be the castle’s main cook. “Only if Ruby le’s me,” he would always add shyly.

She turned her attention back to the Omega across the table from her, who had taken a small biscuit but had not yet taken a bite, as if she was afraid that she would be told off for it at any moment.

“Eat,” Lyria said, pushing a small jar of honey toward the Omega. “What’s your name?” she added.

“Hayva,” whispered the young wolf.

“Your accent is northern, isn’t it?” Lyria asked. She studied Hayva more closely. “When did you come to Cyrrillest?”

“Perhaps a year ago,” Hayva replied, with a small smile. Lyria noticed she had a beautiful smile, shy and small but one that lit up her face.

“Clay River Pack?” Lyria guessed.

“Northern Plain Pack,” Havya replied. “Very close, though. I was born in a village quite close to the border.”

“I see, and why did you come to Cyrrillest?”

“Ahh,” Hayva stopped smiling, hesitating slightly. Lyria simply waited, letting her finish. “I left because… I did not feel welcome there anymore.”

“Oh?”

“My Father is a Warrior. My mother was a scholar here, in Cyrrillest, for years. They were disappointed in my status. They didn’t say it, but…” Hayva trailed off.

“And your Alpha?”

“Oh, I doubt he even noticed me.”

“Really?” Mannon Windmere had many faults, more than Lyria cared to count, but he had known all his wolves.

“I was the disappointing Omega daughter of a Warrior who lived in a remote village protecting the border. He had little use for Omegas to begin with, but especially one who did not live in the main town? No, I don’t think he knew who I was at all.”

“It is brave to choose to move to Cyrrillest in search of a better future.”

Havya blushed. “I was inspired by you, Your Majesty,” she muttered, looking down at the table where her half-nibbled biscuit sat.

“Really?” Lyria was flattered.

“Yes, and that’s why I came here to the castle. You… well, Your Majesty, you have a reputation for kindness. Especially to wolves others would overlook.”

Lyria felt her eyes grow hot and prickle with tears. “That means a lot,” she said quietly.

Havya opened her mouth to speak, but as she did so, the sound of footsteps toward the dining room began to echo.

Havya leapt to her feet, scurrying backward to stand in her usual position against the wall.

“Oh, you… Havya, you don’t need to–”

“Mother!”

It was her other children. Wyatt walked slightly behind the twins, Annicke and Weston. Wyatt also carried Aertia in his arms, Lyria’s youngest child, who was only two.

“You haven’t forgotten, have you, mother?” asked Annicke cheerfully as she hopped into a seat at the table and reached out for a sausage. Weston sat down as well, his face more solemn than Annicke’s. Weston had always been a serious boy, slow to laugh and more likely to be reading than doing anything else.

“It’s okay if you have,” Weston said, a small smile twitching at his lips. Wyatt and Annicke both laughed. Annicke was more free spirited than Weston, and the two were as different as night and day. They were exceptionally close, and complemented each other with their opposing personalities.

“I have not forgotten, so sorry, Weston,” Lyria said. She had promised that she would teach them some fighting skills that day. Combat had been one of Lyria’s strongest points as a Warrior, particularly mixed shifting combat, and they had often been regaled by the castle staff about the rumors of Lyria’s skills in her youth. Even their fighting teacher had sung her praises, so eventually Lyria had relented to show them some moves. “But I still don’t think I can teach you anything that Garrid can’t,” she added. She’d given the fighting instructor the day off.

“Oh,” she remembered that Havya had stood on ceremony when the young Royals had entered the room. “Havya, please, come sit.”

“No, I don’t– I don’t think I should,” Havya said, once again demurring and keeping her eyes on the floor.

“Nonsense,” Lyria said. “My children share my views on the equality of wolves. Please, dine with us.”

To her surprise, Wyatt jumped up. “Please,” he echoed Lyria, “sit,” he inclined his head slightly, the closest to a bow that a Royal could ever get. Havya blushed.

Without speaking, Havya nodded and slipped into a seat. She sat slightly away from where the children had sat, and Lyria did not fail to notice how Wyatt moved his chair ever so slightly in her direction.

He is certainly growing up, she thought to herself, as she watched him glance shyly up at her.

“So,” he said. He seemed to be struggling to come up with something to say, but he valiantly persisted. “Do you… like…” he glanced around the table, “uh, water?”

Lyria suppressed a grin as the twins burst out laughing. Even Havya let out a tiny, nervous, high pitched giggle that made Wyatt’s ears turn red, a sure sign of embarrassment.

“I do,” Havya said, the corners of her mouth still twitching even though she could not bring herself to look up and make eye contact.

“Oh, then, here!” Wyatt said. He rushed to fill a goblet, and in his hurry to do so, he knocked over the water pitcher.

Havya jumped up in slight shock as the water washed over her. Wetness spread across the table, soaking through bits of bread and cheese.

“Oh no!” Wyatt said, jumping to his feet as well. Lyria leaned over to right the fallen pitcher, though it was too late to stop most of the water from escaping.

“Oh, it’s… okay, I… um… excuse me,” Havya said. She bowed low and hurried off, her shoes making a strange squeaking noise against the stone floor from the water which dripped with her every step.

“Oh, Goddess strike me down!” Wyatt cursed.

“Language,” Lyria warned in a low grumble as kitchen staff streamed into the room with rags to clean up the mess.

“Sorry, I just–” Wyatt muttered and didn’t finish his sentence. After a minute of looking at the door through which Havya had disappeared, he said, “I should go too.”

“Goddess strike me down,” Annicke said in a voice meant to mock her older brother.

“Hey!” Lyria said. “What did I just say about language?”

“Sorry mother,” Annicke whispered. But her heart wasn’t in the apology, and a faint whisper of laughter echoed in the corners of her words. Her lips twitched. Weston snickered, clearly still thinking about Wyatt’s flushed ears and blundering mannerisms. Soon, Lyria found herself laughing too.

The three of them laughed for a long minute.