Secrets in the Wolf King's Castle

Close Quarters

Lyria felt an increasingly heavy sinking feeling in her chest as she rushed along behind the Omega who had come to summon her, telling her in whispered tones that someone was injured, possibly dead. In her hand, she still clutched a book, one finger gently holding her place out of instinct.

Wyatt had insisted on accompanying her, the only one of her children who had heard the Omega’s whispered, urgent message. Lyria was vaguely grateful the younger ones had been too involved in their lessons to overhear. She’d been sitting in the library while they studied, her feet up and a book in her hand, a refreshing lemon water by her side. Lady Greyfur was with her, writing a letter to her sister. The human guests had been taken to their rooms after the midday meal concluded to freshen up and enjoy some rest.

Lady Greyfur trailed behind the Queen and her son, looking equally troubled.

“Who is it?” Wyatt asked in an undertone, glancing carefully around the wide halls to ensure no one would hear.

“The Omega didn’t know,” Lyria replied. Her guards and attendants, who had not been informed of the situation, walked a short distance away. She noted that her favorite guard, an older wolf by the name of Yelsia, looked tense. Her hand hovered over the buckle on her armor where she could release the iron garment in order to shift, if a threat to Lyria or the Royal family appeared.

Lyria was appreciative of Yelsia’s perceptiveness. She obviously sensed the danger, even if she did not understand why.

“How?” Wyatt hissed, frustrated. Lyria was far more practiced in keeping her thoughts off her face and out of her voice. Wyatt would need to learn the skill if he was to rule, the subtle art of keeping an impassive face no matter what turmoil tumbled around.

“They are not yet so acquainted with the names of the humans,” Lyria replied. “We will know soon,” she added.

Indeed, Lyria, Wyatt, and Duchess Greyfur drew close to the source of the commotion, marked by a tumult of wolves of all stations bustling to and fro. There were nearly triple the usual number of guards, and the King himself was surrounded by at least six. Nearby, Lyria saw that King Reginald was slumped on the floor, his eyes closed and his head in his hands.

“Not…?” Lyria said, shock breaking through her usual veil of calm. But before she could continue the question, King Reginald shifted. He was grieving, but alive.

“Who?” Lyria asked, looking to her mate.

“The Duke,” Wallace said. He nodded, his face even paler than usual, toward a door where much of the activity seemed to be centered.

“My husband?” Lady Isadorna asked weakly, one hand fluttering to her stomach and the other finding the wall to support herself.

“No, my lady,” the King said, concern flashing through his eyes. Lady Isadorna was pregnant. She had not had any successful pregnancies since she had given birth to the Greyfur twins, now eleven year old pups. That had been a difficult pregnancy for Isadorna, and though the Duke and Duchess had longed for more children, they had nearly given up hoping when Isadorna became pregnant recently. Wallace wanted to avoid any disruption to the Duchess’s mental or physical state. He rushed forward to catch her, worried she may faint. “Duke Ironburgh, I fear.”

“Oh thank the Goddess,” Isadorna whispered. Her voice was so low that the humans would not have been able to hear it, but Wallace still glanced around guiltily. He did not want his guests to hear them speaking in such a way, understandable though it was.

“What happened?” Lyria asked. Her eyes darted back and forth as she tried to take in the scene.

“We cannot be sure,” the King said. “But it seems someone was lying in wait. Theoboro is securing the area. We cannot, of course, go in until we are sure the danger has passed.”

“And King Reginald?” Lyria asked, eyeing the distraught king.

“It seems he found the… body…” King Wallace replied, glancing over at his human counterpart with pity.

“What of his wife? And his daughter?”

“Unaccounted for,” a guard spoke up. “We are searching the castle and the grounds for them.”

“My fault,” King Reginald whispered. “I told him…”

“What?” Lyria asked, looking between the two kings, one human and one wolf.

“We don’t know. He’s in shock.”

“Where is his wife and the Princess?”

“He gave strict orders they were to be kept away from the scene,” one of the humans who accompanied King Reginald replied. He straightened up as he spoke, but his hands nervously adjusted the grey-blue tunic he wore and his eyes darted too quickly to be totally relaxed. “In case the danger has not passed.”

“I see,” Lyria said. “That is wise.” She glanced uneasily at Wyatt, who was staring, wide-eyed, at the human king. She was unhappy that he had come, but her whispered remonstrations had not had any effect, and she had not wanted to attract the attention of her younger pups by trying to force him to stay.

Before she could speak more, Wyatt suddenly swooped down, crouching near the despairing king.

“Why do you think it’s your fault?” Wyatt asked. His voice was low, and warm, the words murmured so gently that Lyria was not sure she would be able to hear them without her heightened wolf senses.

“I told him…” the King muttered, barely intelligible.

Wyatt turned back toward Lyria. “Do you have water?” he asked, his eyes large and pleading. Lyria didn’t take her eyes off her son, waving a hand in the direction of her attendants. She heard someone bustle off to get water.

Lyria wanted to tell Wyatt to get away from the King, away from the danger, away from anything that might harm him. But she didn’t. He was, after all, nearly grown. Instead, she watched with a confusing mixture of trepidation and pride as Wyatt put a hand gently on King Reginald’s arm.

“Told him what?”

“There were threats… for weeks,” the King moaned. His voice was anguished. “Rumors that some calamity would befall us if we came to this festival! I told Thomasse… I was worried that there was some plot. I thought, if it were so, the killer would strike when I was alone. Because I was afraid! He offered to switch quarters with me. It should have been me…”

Lyria felt herself pale as the effects of the King’s words washed over her.

“Those rooms were meant for you?” she asked quietly.

King Reginald nodded.

Lyria suddenly felt as though she could not hear. That an attempt on a visiting royal was made under her roof was almost impossible. Almost unbelievable. As the room tilted slightly and she considered what that could mean, she turned to her husband.

King Wallace had his eyes closed, and he bit his lip as he tried to think. Finally, he said, “then the danger has not passed.”