Chapter 1
Chapter One
Kieran
I’m grateful for the rain.
It hides my tears as I watch them lower my father’s body onto the wooden raft.
I don’t want my pack to see me crying. They need to see the next king standing strong. They need to see a secure future, not a grief-stricken boy who would trade his entire kingdom for one more hug from his father.
I stand tall, the traditional Wolf Prince cloak hanging from my shoulders, getting heavier with every drop of rain that falls. I fight back the tears and try to be the man my father was always certain I’d become.
I whisper my father's words spoken to me all those years ago. “The crown will require you to become the best version of yourself.”
I’m not there yet. I’m only twenty-six. I thought my father would rule for another two decades at least. I thought I’d have more time to get myself together, but tragedy struck.
My father passed away peacefully, yet unexpectedly, in his sleep.
It was his time, and now, ready or not, it’s my time to become every bit of the great Wolf King he knew I could be.
I’m not sure I’ve become that version of myself yet. I'm not sure I'm even close.
But I have three weeks before the full moon arrives and the crown is placed on my head, and I intend to spend every second until then preparing.
These people, my people, all of them stretched out into the horizon to watch and pay their respects as my father is sent to Ulissa, will need me to be everything I can be.
I look amongst the endless gutted crowd—heads lowered, tears streaming down cheeks, women sobbing.
My father was much loved amongst the Stormfur pack. I hope I can fill his big paws.
On my flanks, at the edge of the raging river, are nobles and mighty warriors, some of them traveled for days to be here. And on my right is my cousin Lucan. He puts a hand on my shoulder as the great torch is lit.
The high priest carries it over to me and offers it.
My whole body aches as I take it from him, wrapping my hand around the wooden torch, the fire warming the side of my face.
Every eye is on me, assessing their new king as I walk down to the raft where my father’s body lies amongst the dry kindling.
I take a deep breath as I see his familiar form wrapped in his royal cloak.
Those big broad shoulders that carried me as a child, those strong arms that hugged me and made everything feel better, those powerful legs that made him stand so tall and made him seem so formidable.
I never thought anything could take this giant of a wolf shifter down.
But like the great Wolf Kings of the past, he has fallen, and it’s my turn to step up and take his place.
“I love you, Dad,” I whisper as I lower the torch, touching the flame to the dry brush. “I’ll see you in Ulissa.”
The brush is coated in oil, which erupts into hungry flames, consuming my father instantly.
Hundreds of sad howls fill the air as I push the raft with my foot, sending it down the river.
It will travel to the large waterfall that empties out into the ocean.
Wolf King Axton will disappear over the waterfall and his soul will be sent to Ulissa.
We all watch in silence as the burning raft is taken away by the current, traveling down the river. The wolves among us aren’t so silent. They howl and whimper and cry at the sad sight.
My wolf whimpers inside me, wanting to answer. He wants to say his final goodbye. It was his father too.
I’ll come back later, I tell him. You can say your goodbye then.
The high priest raises his arms and says a final prayer.
“By moon and blood you lived,” he hollers in a deep, booming voice. “By bite and bond you led. Now the realm releases you and Ulissa calls you home. Go now, where the great wolves run beneath a moon that never sets. Your pack endures in your name. Run free, Wolf King, run free.”
“Run free,” we all repeat as one.
The burning raft is but a fiery speck in the distance, blurred by the rain and mist. In between the beats of my aching heart, it disappears.
“Goodbye, Dad,” I whisper. “I miss you already.”
A Wolf King’s funeral is quite the affair.
After a day of profound sadness, the night is filled with song and dance and drinking. So much drinking.
Wolves from all over the realm mingle and flirt and scheme and plan. I don’t have the energy to keep up with any of it.
I just sit at the table drinking from my tankard that never seems to empty, no matter how hard I try.
The great hall is packed, these wolves doing their best to empty the castle’s stock of food and mead.
There’s a tension in the air I haven’t felt before.
It feels… off. It feels… dangerous. The kind of restless energy of a pack without an alpha.
I felt it the moment I walked through the doors, unsettling, humming perilously beneath the surface of all the polite conversation and raised cups.
It’s a species thing. Wolf shifters are pack creatures.
We need a leader as much as we need the air in our lungs.
Without one, the whole kingdom can fracture.
Noble houses can split off, creating their own packs.
Ambitious lone wolves shift and calculate, creating opportunity from chaos.
Old rivalries bubble up and burst into violence.
It’s a treacherous time for the kingdom and for any king waiting to be crowned. A lucky kingdom will see its Wolf King fall days from the next full moon, because no replacement can be crowned without a full moon shining in the sky.
But not us. Not this time.
Three weeks.
We must wait three whole weeks until the full moon rises and the crown is laid onto my head.
My watchful gaze slides across the room, looking for danger, looking for any sign of revolt.
But my grief and the mead numbs my senses.
I can’t see anything but the image of my father standing tall with the crown on his head, the cloak on his shoulders, and I keep wondering if I can ever stand as proudly as him.
It would be easier if I had my mate with me. To help share this burden. To help ease my pain and give me hope for the future.
But my loneliness is complete. No more family. No sign of my mate. No one but myself to keep me going.
Morrick, my father’s oldest, most trusted advisor, shuffles over, looking wrinklier than a rotting prunder seed. How can this old grump be alive and my powerful father is not?
“Perhaps a toast will help ease some of the unrest,” Morrick says, grunting and wincing as he eases himself into the chair beside me.
What am I supposed to say to these people? I’m a shadow of the man my father was.
“They need to see a leader,” he says in his low scratchy voice. “They need to know their kingdom is in capable hands. Otherwise, they’ll start scheming.”
“Fine,” I grunt as I stand up, grabbing my tankard.
Morrick smacks a knife onto the flagon continuously, getting everyone’s attention. The great hall quiets when they see me standing at the head table.
My head spins. My heart aches. I just want to go to bed and sleep for days.
“My father would not want to be mourned,” I shout loud enough for every ear in the place to hear. “But he would want to be remembered. So, let’s remember him as we move into this new phase together.”
“Together,” the pack shouts as one.
I spot my cousin Lucan amongst his friends—the slimiest and most unscrupulous collection of wolf shifters in the kingdom. He does not repeat the word. He keeps his mouth shut.
“So, let’s remember Wolf King Axton,” I continue. “The greatest Wolf King this realm has ever seen.”
The hall erupts into cheers and shouts. I catch Lucan’s eye. He does not seem to be in agreement, although I can’t blame him for that. His father was king before mine. You can’t blame a son for thinking his father was the best.
I nod to the musicians, and the music starts back up, lively and loud. Cups crash together. Talking and laughing and dancing resumes. There is sadness, but there is also hope. And knowledge, that the pack will go on, strong as ever.
“Well done, my prince,” Morrick says as I drain my tankard and push away from the table. “Where are you going?”
My wolf stirs inside me, restless in his grief.
“There’s one more goodbye I have to make.”
I head outside with my head lowered, so I don’t have to stop and talk with anyone. I push through the crowd and sneak out the side door into the cool night air. The rain has settled into a cold mist.
The stars are out and I look them over, trying to spot a new one, trying to see one shining brighter than the others.
“Can you see me, father?” I whisper as I stumble across the grounds toward the forest, a little tipsy.
My wolf paces inside as I head through the trees, leaving the giant castle behind me.
“What do you think, boy?” I mumble, speaking to my wolf as I duck under a tree branch. “Do you think we’ll make a good Wolf King?”
He just continues pacing uneasily. Saying goodbye is always hard.
I follow the noise of the roaring river, and pretty soon, I’m stepping out of the forest and walking across the valley to the shore. The current is rough, the water level higher from the rain.
My wolf whimpers as I stand in the same place I was standing this afternoon, watching as I got the last glimpse of my father in this physical world.
I’m about to pull him out to let him say goodbye when a low, warning awareness moves up my spine like a ghost. A branch snaps behind me. I turn.
A shadow steps out of the tree line.
Then another.
And another.
Five of them in total. All threatening. All familiar. All carrying weapons—knives, spears, swords.
Lucan steps out last, unhurried, a cup still in his hand like he's just come from a celebration rather than his uncle’s funeral. He smiles when he sees my face.
“Cousin,” he says pleasantly.
My wolf growls low, urging me to let him out.
I will. But not yet.
I keep him close to the surface.
“Walk away, Lucan,” I warn.