The Throne
RYON WALKED INTO the throne room of the Territorial Mansion and he felt his jaw grow tight.
Desdemona sat on the throne on the dais, her dark gleaming hair around her shoulders, her face fully made up, an honor guard of twelve flanking the back of the throne and down the steps of the dais.
She, at least, was smart enough to know if she wanted to try something it would take at least thirteen of them to bring him low.
However, she wasn’t smart enough not to appear unaware of their surprise visit.
Or there was the distinct possibility she was still panting for the opportunity to see Callum and she’d hastily thrown this circus together for his benefit.
Fuck, Ryon had called her only a half an hour before and she’d managed to pull together this show.
Stupid bitch.
He barely got two steps in the room before the entire guard dropped to a knee, fell forward on a hand, and gazed at him, heads up.
Much more slowly, Desdemona gracefully alighted from the chair and she took her time moving a step to her left before she fell into the same ceremonial bow.
Ryon hadn’t seen her in years and she hadn’t changed. Haughty because of her high birth, conceited because of her extreme beauty, and stupid because she just plain was.
She was lucky it was Ryon moving toward her. If Callum had seen that demonstration, he’d have her head and deserve it.
He might have it anyway and deserve it more.
Desdemona, daughter of Titium and Governor of the Western Territories of the Americas, was about to learn that King Callum was not at all like the patient, generous, benevolent King McDonagh was.
Without a word, he walked up the steps of the dais, sat in the throne, and muttered, “Rise.”
The guard and Desdemona took their feet.
She stepped down two steps and turned to him.
“Ryon,” she greeted familiarly, and with anyone else but her—because he didn’t like her and with what was happening in her territory—Ryon might have allowed it.
Instead, he sensed the eyes of the guard, he’d never liked Mona, and he knew the state of her territory, therefore he clipped, “You forget yourself, Governor.”
He watched as her face grew pale, her mouth set hard, and her eyes flashed.
Jesus, she was stupid.
He should strike her.
He didn’t. He wanted her brain functioning properly when he had a go at her.
He watched as she bowed her head and murmured, “Your grace.”
He let go her silent rebellion, threw his hand out, and commented, “This is impressive. Half an hour ago, you didn’t know of the king’s imminent arrival.”
“We’re ever ready in the Western Territory, your grace,” Desdemona replied.
Bullshit, she knew they were coming.
That was why they’d moved on the queen.
Could the bitch be more stupid?
“Where is he, I mean,” she hesitated before finishing, “the king?”
Ryon surveyed her.
Yes, she could be more stupid. Because there was a chance she didn’t even know about the queen, and even as those in her territory conspired to break the treaty, she couldn’t hide her eagerness to see Cal.
She was, quite plainly, gagging for it.
In fact, there was a more than mild possibility she’d orchestrated this fiasco in order to get it.
If she wasn’t involved in the conspiracy, this grand show was entirely for Cal.
Jesus, Cal must be a master of his own dick to inspire this kind of devotion. He’d finished the messy business with Desdemona over a hundred years ago and she still wasn’t over him.
“He’s collecting his queen,” Ryon answered bluntly, exposing knowledge that had been, for thirty-one years, treated as the most crucially held state secret.
Every last guard pulled in breath and even Desdemona gasped.
All right then, perhaps she didn’t know.
“The queen is in my territory?” she asked, her voice breathy and irate, not even attempting to hide her displeasure. Anyone else would find that knowledge an unreserved honor, even if they knew the queen was human.
“Yes,” Ryon replied.
“I don’t believe it,” she whispered.
“Believe it, Mona,” Ryon returned sharply. “And while you’re wrapping your mind around that you better pray he gets to her before the men who were dispatched to kidnap her do.”
Her body jolted and the air in the room got thick.
Finally, the bitch was smart enough to know fear and she definitely knew Cal enough to know that fear was warranted.
She leaned forward and her face was even paler, her eyes betraying her fear, but her voice was angry. “No one in my territory would dream of moving on the queen.”
“They would and they did. We received word eleven hours ago they were taking her tonight. That’s why we’re here,” Ryon informed her.
“That’s impossible,” she snapped.
Ryon’s head suddenly tilted to the side and he took in a breath through his nose.
Cal was there.
As were his warriors.
He also had his queen with him.
He wouldn’t have her if she hadn’t been under threat.
The Mating Ceremony wasn’t to commence until a year in the future. Cal was supposed to begin their regular human courtship in a few weeks at her annual Christmas party. He was to pose as the guest of a neighbor, a wolf who’d been planted in a house across from hers years ago.
This was something Ryon had talked him into doing. Cal wanted just to grab her, as was his due. Ryon, on the other hand, had been reading reports on her as well as watching her himself for thirty-one years.
Sonia Arlington needed to be courted. As a human, she’d expect it.
But being all she was, she deserved it.
It took Ryon a while to talk Cal around, most especially since his father’s death Cal had been reading the reports on her as well as getting the pictures. And, because of this, not to mention the simple fact that she was his mate, Cal was growing impatient.
Very impatient.
But, apparently, Cal’s hand had been forced and the treaty broken.
This meant war.
Desdemona’s head jerked toward the door. She sensed it too.
“Impossible, Mona?” Ryon asked quietly and he watched as she slowly turned to face him, her throat moving convulsively.
Yes, Mona, you . . . are . . . fucked, Ryon thought as he rose from the throne and stepped to its right side.
The next second, Cal came through the door.
Ryon felt his jaw get tight again upon seeing Sonia, wrapped in a blanket, held unconscious in Cal’s arms.
The guard and Desdemona, without delay, dropped to their knee, forward on their hand, but in the presence of their king, they bowed their heads toward the floor.
Ryon didn’t drop to his knee.
He was not only a duke. He was not only Cal’s cousin. He was not only born precisely one year after Cal (to the very hour, a significant happenstance in the brotherhood). But his blood had mingled with Cal’s on too many battlefields for Ryon to take a knee.
He’d done it once, after the king had fallen.
Cal had forbidden him ever to do it again.
Without looking at anyone but Ryon, Cal made his way to the throne.
Ryon felt a muscle jump in his jaw at the look of fury on his cousin’s face.
Cal sat on the throne, gently arranging Sonia in his lap so she was close, her forehead tucked into his neck, her hand resting on his chest, her knees cocked and tucked into his side. His arms, finally, settled protectively around her.
Ryon had seen her many times since that night her mother and father were murdered. She was a pretty child.
She was a fucking amazing woman. If she wasn’t destined queen, Ryon would have taken her to his bed.
And kept her there.
Until the day she died.
Cal was a lucky bastard.
“Rise,” Cal ordered, his voice an angry rumble.
Desdemona rose slowly, her eyes carefully not looking at Sonia, but also not looking at Cal.
Ryon didn’t have time for Mona.
“Is she okay?” he asked his cousin, his eyes on Sonia.
“Ellington threw her across the room. She cracked her head, went unconscious. She was coming to but I sedated her for the drive to the cabin,” Cal replied, his eyes never leaving Mona.
Ryon’s eyes never left Sonia but his hands clenched into fists.
At this news that their soon-to-be queen had been manhandled, the air in the room again went thick. Or, Ryon could say, thicker.
Mona drew in breath.
Then she said something immensely stupid.
“She’s human.”
“She’s your queen,” Cal ground out and Mona took a step back, bowing her head while Cal went on. “Jesus, I will never fucking understand my father’s decision about you,” he gritted out and Mona’s head bowed further as her shoulders drooped. “Tell me, Mona, how in the fuck could you let the treaty get broken in your territory?”
Mona lifted her head. “I had no—”
Cal cut her off. “It happened.”
Mona leaned forward. “But, your grace, I had no—”
Cal interrupted her again, biting off every word. “In these tense times, it’s your fucking job to monitor every goddamned wolf.”
“But, Cal—” she started plaintively, and without hesitation at her familiarity with her sovereign, Ryon started forward.
“Leave it, Ry,” Cal clipped and Ryon stopped and looked back.
“I’m interrogating her personally,” Ryon demanded and without looking at him Cal nodded.
“Interrogating me?” Desdemona asked, a tremor of fear shifting through her voice.
“Warriors are coming, Mona,” Cal told her. “Can’t you hear them? For fuck’s sake, do you ever pay attention?”
Mona’s head tilted and Ryon listened to the sounds of the takeover of the mansion.
“The plot was hatched in these walls, Governor,” Cal clipped. “By tomorrow night, we’ll know who was involved.”
The guard was shifting uncomfortably and Mona’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish, but Cal just rose from his throne, cradling Sonia. He started to stride from the room seconds before the doors opened and twenty warrior wolves, all of whom were chosen specifically by Cal as Cal’s Royal Guard, advanced through.
They parted for Cal and Sonia as if they’d practiced it hundreds of times. Cal walked through the stream of warriors and exited the room.
Ryon looked at Magnum, the leader, and jerked his head to a visibly trembling Mona.
“She’s mine,” he ordered.
Then he left the room much like Cal in search of his lieutenant.