I never liked the massive throne at the end of the long, overly-ornate audience hall in the center of the hyena den. It was too gaudy for my taste, and uncomfortable besides. Sitting in it too long stole the feeling from my ass and legs, and then I looked like a fool when I tried to stand or I spent the whole time fidgeting. And I couldn’t put a pillow on it because then I’d look weak.

Looking weak would get me killed. Even looking strong hadn’t protected me from the challenges and backstabbing typical of a hyena cackle, even one that wasn’t a dysfunctional as mine.

I leaned back in the throne and drummed my fingers against the gilt arm, frowning at the rest of the room as I pondered. Being queen of the hyenas was about as much fun as a root canal, which didn’t seem fair when all the other shifter alphas in the city looked happy as hell every time I saw them. Assholes.

My phone rang and I glanced down at it, ready for a distraction from the business at hand. And my best friend was the best sort of distraction. “Hey Eloise.”

My second-in-command, Savannah, shot me a dirty look from where she sat against the wall, but I ignored her. I was the queen, and I could do whatever the hell I wanted. That was tradition.

Eloise took a quick breath and then a torrent of words poured out of her, as if she’d been saving them up all week. “Jesus Christ, Lacey, I’ve gotta get out of this apartment. These teenagers are driving me fucking crazy. Hormones. So many goddamn hormones. Even the nice ones are getting on my nerves, and that doesn’t even touch how infuriating Anais is just by breathing. I know you’re a big shot now, but are you free? Can you get dinner or drinks or something?”

I blinked as I tried to process, and fiddled with a loose ruby on the arm of the throne, right where my hand rested. Her half-medusa personality occasionally ratcheted up the craziness around Eloise, whether she meant to or not, and having her cousin Anais materialize out of the blue a couple of months earlier had only increased the chaos. I cleared my throat and adjusted how I sat, crossing my legs. “Sure, El. I have one little thing to take care of. I’ll give you a shout in about an hour. Can you meet me in the city?”

“I’ll meet you in fucking North Dakota if it means I can get some wine and half an hour of adult goddamn conversation.” Something crashed in the background and Eloise shouted at her mate, Benedict, to stop horsing around and do his chores.

I snorted with laughter but covered it with a cough when Eloise returned to the phone with a barked, “Are you laughing at me? Was that a laugh?”

“Never.” I worked to keep my expression impassive, one of the hardest parts of being Eloise’s friend as well as the hyena queen. “I’ll call you in an hour. Try not to throw Benedict out until after I get there, okay?”

“You better get here fast.” Another crash, some howls of glee, and a lion’s grumble had me pulling the phone away from my ear, and Eloise shrieked. “I just told—” before the call cut off.

I set the phone aside and sighed, for a brief moment wishing I had Eloise’s problems to deal with—a loving but goofball mate, a handful of adopted kids, a beautiful apartment, and a mission in life. A purpose. She helped people through a network of shelters and soup kitchens for battered women and homeless families, and had moved so far past her history as an illegal runner for my mother’s criminal enterprise that I almost didn’t recognize her anymore. I felt left behind, despite the twists and turns my own life had taken.

My purpose seemed like it was just to deal out brutal justice, executions, and an iron fist of control.

Which was exactly what brought me to that damn throne on what looked like a fine summer evening.

I studied the woman who kneeled on the unforgiving slate floor of the judgment hall, her hands bound in front of her. Blood streaked her face and her teeth as she bared them at me, and yellow-cream fur sprouted on her forearms as she tried to shift to her hyena form. I leaned into the alpha’s magic to keep her human, and bared my teeth in response. I might not like being the hyena queen, but I damn sure wasn’t going to tolerate challenges to my authority.

And my cousin trying to kill me when she thought I was distracted counted as a challenge.

Savannah cleared her throat and leaned forward a little to catch my attention, her eyebrows raised. “We can deal with it, Highest.”

“I don’t require others to take out my trash.”

The cousin on the slate, Ulrika, hissed and growled.

I pointed the phone at her and she silenced abruptly, then I leaned forward as I forced her to meet my gaze. “You want to be queen so badly? You think there is something to envy in this throne?” I knocked my knuckles against the cold metal, grateful for the flare of pain. Sometimes pain was the only thing that made me feel alive.

Ulrika found her voice, though it sounded like gravel pouring on concrete. “Yes. I deserve to be queen. I will rule and bring us back to glory.”

“Great,” I said, sighing. Everyone had the highest hopes for their own rule, and yet none of them knew a damn thing about budgets and living arrangements and treaties with the other shifters. “And yet you couldn’t even assassinate me. So how the fuck do you expect to stand in the Alphas Council with the bears and lions and wolves and hold your ground? Where’s the glory in tripping over your own feet and ending up chained and on your knees?”

Ulrika growled more, once more trying to rise so she could lunge at me. Savannah jumped up as if she meant to beat our cousin back down, but I waved her off. I rose and the half dozen other hyenas in the room inclined their heads as I stepped down from the throne. I set aside my phone and carefully took off the engagement ring I still wore, a year after my fiancé had been killed. I handed both to Savannah, whose alarmed expression would have been comical if I felt like laughing. I was so tired of all the bullshit and theater. I was tired of the fighting and the pompous titles and people whispering when I walked into a room.

I wanted a normal life. I wanted Cal back, and I wanted the adventurous life we’d dreamed of in Europe and Africa and anywhere else the wind took us. I never wanted to be queen. I tried to give it up, over and over, but my mother had been right about one thing: I was the strongest of her daughters, and the most dedicated to doing things right.

“Very well, Ulrika. Since I’m feeling generous, I’ll give you a gift.” I tilted my head to the side to crack my vertebrae, then shook out my shoulders and arms as I walked around her in an appraising circle. “You’ll get a shot at me. We fight. See if you can take the throne.”

She looked up at me, the blaze of overzealous confidence nearly blinding, and opened her mouth to shout insults or challenges or whatever. But I leaned down and grabbed the front of her shirt, yanking her up to get her attention, and dropped my voice until it matched the growl my hyena felt. “You can’t steal it. You have to earn it.”

Ulrika snarled. Maybe she thought she understood what I meant. Maybe she believed she had earned it, bowing and scraping along behind my mother for years and years—cleaning up her messes, doing her dirty work, getting rid of her enemies, burying her scandals. Half the cackle felt the same way. That didn’t make them ready to be queen.

I shook my head as I retreated a few steps, then gestured for Savannah to release Ulrika’s hands. No point in making the fight less fair overall. I kissed the medallion around my neck—a gift from Eloise—and tucked it under my shirt as my cousin and opponent leapt to her feet and got ready to fight.

If I lost, chances were I wouldn’t make it to dinner with Eloise. I’d probably end up in a body bag outside the den. My hyena side knew we wouldn’t lose, but part of me hoped Ulrika would win. Everything would be easier if someone else was queen.