Chapter Twenty-Six #3
“Absolutely fucking not.” Loathing crackles off Wolf, charging the air. “You can’t trust him, Maeve. Not with this. If he turns on you…”
“You’re the ones who want him on the throne.
” I point out the obvious. “And I get it. A new king is Eireann’s best hope for change.
There isn’t anyone else.” Wolf flinches, but I keep going.
“And an uprising will turn into anarchy without a quick, clear plan for who replaces the king. If there’s anarchy, Cymrea will move in and annex us, and probably even claim they’re doing it for our own good. ”
Except…
I fix my eyes on his, gut churning. “Tell me you have a plan for the High Queen, too.”
Wolf hesitates. I see the waver in the edges of his gaze as he searches mine.
I force resolve into my voice. “I have as much to lose in this as you do. Even if you won’t tell me the details, I can put the pieces together well enough to figure out that Finn’s working for you.
Maybe even fighting with you. And I won’t leave her to do any of that alone.
I wouldn’t ever do anything to put her in danger.
But I can do more—I want to do more. You can trust me. ”
Wolf draws in a breath but doesn’t let it go.
Every nerve in me flares to life as I bring one hand up to the sharp line of his jaw. Yes, touching him is a mistake. It will always be a mistake, where he’s concerned. After everything he’s lost, will he ever let himself truly open up to another person again?
But the warmth of his skin against my fingers… Old Ones, it feels like a bridge spanning all the things we don’t let ourselves say to each other.
Wolf’s breath catches, low and rough in the back of his throat.
One hand comes up to just barely brush mine, his thumb hovering along the soft skin of my wrist as he lets out the rough, quiet words.
“Royals make excellent leverage.”
Exhilaration shivers up my spine. “You want a hostage.”
The nobles in the uprising had planned to use the same strategy before Cashel betrayed Wolf. It’s brilliant. Cymrea won’t invade, surely, if the Whisperers threaten to kill the High Queen if they do.
“More than one, ideally.” Wolf studies my expression. “But yes.”
He’s letting me in. Exhilaration dances down my spine.
Not with orders, or information that’s only relevant to what the Whisperers need me to do. This is the kind of thing he’d share only with an equal in this fight. With someone who can stand alongside them and do their part to save what’s left of our home’s magic.
And I know my plan can help.
“Cashel could’ve let me die,” I say softly. “He didn’t. If he’s going to be king, we have to start trying to work with him. Test if he’s worthy of the faith you’re all putting in him… even if you hate him.”
Wolf shakes his head. His eyes drift to the portrait, to the people there I’m sure are his family, and him. It’s been so carefully cleaned, just the thought makes my heart hurt. “Just because he didn’t kill you doesn’t mean he’s a good person.”
“No,” I admit. “But it doesn’t mean he’s a villain, either.”
He scowls. “He’s a noble. They’re all villains in pretty packaging unless proven otherwise. Captivated with power and the Crown.”
For fuck’s sake—
“You’re a noble, Wolf.” He jerks back like I’ve slapped him. “At least, you were.” I shimmy down from the ledge, standing between him and the worktable behind me. “And with how often you sneak back into this castle, I could argue that if anyone’s captivated by the Crown, it’s you.”
Pain wrestles across his face. “I have never wanted anything to do with this crown,” he vows, low and furious. “I will never want anything to do with this crown, no matter who—”
He rips his gaze from mine. His lips press together in a tight line, but no words come out.
Without the leather jacket, I can see every muscle tense down the broad lines of his shoulders beneath his shirt. Conflict tears across his expression just as his hand reaches out for mine at the edge of the worktable, only to pull back.
We’re so close, I can see the battle escalating into a full-blown war as his eyes drop to my lips… and linger.
My voice drops to a whisper—a challenge. “What are you so afraid of, Wolf?”
“I’m not afraid.” The words sound raked over embers, but there’s a flicker of hesitation tightening the edges of his eyes even as Wolf lets one hand brush the curve along the small of my back. Like he thinks he can prove something to himself—to me.
I don’t believe him. And I’m not going to stand here and listen to excuses about why my ideas are too risky, or too dangerous, to work.
Survival requires sacrifice. I was wrong, before I came here.
I thought staying alive meant staying safe—staying small—and never taking any risks.
But letting bad things happen is just as dangerous as acting to stop them.
Tyrants always need a new enemy.
And they will come for all of us, eventually, unless we tear them down.
Dividing the nobles is the best chance we have to weaken this court so Cashel can take the throne and the Whisperers can seize the High Queen with as little organized opposition as possible. And planting magic on one of the noble daughters?
I know this plan can work. But if he’s not willing to take that risk with me…
“I should go,” I whisper, ignoring the way his eyes flare as I pull back just an inch.
His breath snares in his throat.
His hand flexes, digging into my hip, and Wolf pulls me in close, a rush of heat filling the inches between us as his lips claim mine.