Chapter 195: The Accuser
RETH
He shook with rage. Shook so hard and felt so much, Behryn had dropped a hand to his shoulder. Apparently, he could smell the rigid tension in Reth. Whenever Reth seemed on the edge of losing control, Behryn would grip him in a show of solidarity that was silently cautioning him.
Reth dipped his chin once to acknowledge that he would listen to his closest friend and advisor, but he continued to squeeze his hands to fists and wish they were around her throat.
He had never in his life wanted to light a female afire—not once. But none had ever threatened his mate before—or the loyalty of his people.
Reth was prepared to make an exception.
"…he had been scenting all evening and… he is the king," Lucine said, her voice clear and strong, though she presented with far less grace.
She'd been dragged from whatever hole she was hiding in. Her face gaunt and clothing slightly dirty though there was no need for it. He wondered if she'd known they were coming and so had made herself look as degraded as possible. But her eyes and voice were clear, and she spoke with strength and conviction.
It was a manipulative mix.
"When the King indicates his interest it is both flattering and… difficult to ignore."
Interest? She tried to say he'd had interest in her!? Reth's hands twitched and Behryn's grip on his shoulder tightened.
"When he left the gathering under moonlight, casting a glance at me over his shoulder, I followed. I was both excited and afraid. I wanted him, as we all did. I wished to be before you not as daughter, but as Queen. I wished to serve. But I knew the Rite was coming and that had been my hope…" she trailed off like she was remembering something, and the tiniest growl rose in Reth's throat.
Brant cut him a glare, but Lucine ignored it—which showed more strength in her than he'd have anticipated.
"When I found in him in the meadow he was laid out and ready for me."
Reth had to close his eyes to stop himself roaring a challenge. He'd been no such thing! He'd laid under the stars, one arm under his head, and prayed. He'd prayed for the strength to face what was coming. And that he would not waver.
And then he'd wavered right into the biggest single regret of his life.
"I… approached him and made the signals. He did not wish to immediately couple. He… he wished to discuss the future first."
Truth, but not for the reason she implied. He'd actually refused her outright. But when she blurted—
"I… I betrayed my people. I was in his thrall and told him that I had been chosen as the Lupine Sacrifice. He expressed his disgust with the Rite and his desire to thwart it—declared it a brutal and old-fashioned tradition that the modern Anima were beyond."
True, but barely. She made it sound like he had spoken those words in arrogance, or anger. But he had spoken them in grief. He'd searched for a way to make his heart rest in the ruthless Rite of Survival, the waste of Anima life and vitality. He'd thought her sympathetic. What a fool he'd been.
"When I told him I agreed—because it was clearly what he wanted—he swore me to secrecy if we were to be joined and I agreed. I know… I know I should not have. I know I should have told him no. He was not violent. He would not have forced me. But… he is the King." And then she hesitated scanning the people, meeting eyes, and letting the words hang in the air, in one of the most excellently timed pauses he'd ever had the displeasure to witness.
Young, she may be. Shunned and discarded. But Lucine was strong in both body and mind, intelligent, and cunning. A wolf to her core. At barely twenty, she knew how words and appearances were used to manipulate with great skill.
Reth wanted to snap her neck.
"Did you discuss the future?" Brant asked through clenched teeth.
She nodded. "He acknowledged my claim for the crown, through the Rite. He knew it was wrong to leap ahead. But… he wanted to. And we both spoke of how it would only be a matter of time until we were together in truth. It seemed… a small betrayal," she said. "I do beg the people's forgiveness. We discussed that I would win the Rite, that I would be Queen, and that we were only choosing that a few weeks before it would be chosen for us."
Did he imagine the bitterness in that last phrase? When he'd discussed these things, it had not been with excitement, or even anger. He'd been sad—and she knew it. But she'd been determined, and he had been weak. So weak.
"What happened then?" Brant asked wearily.
"The King," she said, swallowing, as if it were hard for her to say, "expected the signals, and so I gave them. And we were… we were joined."
They coupled, fast and furious, and Reth barely able to find his peak. She'd been aggressive and excited. He'd had to—
"And during the joining he… he bit me."
There was a fierce intake of breath from most of those assembled. Elia's eyes snapped to him, and a piece of his heart tore knowing that, even for that second, she'd questioned him.
Brant burst out. "Were you claimed?"
"No, no," she said, and her voice shook. "He was only… being strong."
She'd been overwhelmed and excited, struggling to contain her beast and her aggression—something he'd heard wasn't uncommon in the wolves, especially early on. Their joining could be quite… eventful. But the sheer strength of her response had taken him off-guard. He'd had to pin her hands and hold her in place when she threated to claw his eyes.
What a fool, what a fool. What an utter, fucking fool he had been. She spoke for a time with a wistful sound, and her voice grated on his nerves like a blade on stone.
Reth's jaw was so tight it ached. Behryn's hand pinched at his shoulder. Brant smelled very uneasy, but Reth couldn't decide if it was for suspicion of Lucine, or himself.
"What happened when you were done?" Brant asked carefully.
She sighed. "We lay together for a time."
And that was the nail that clawed down his back. It was barely true. He'd felt obligated, after, with taking her virginity, and in breach of the Rite, to give her more honor than she was due. And so he hadn't left immediately. But he'd been so disgusted with himself, so full of mourning for the entire situation, that he'd only been able to stay there with her for a short time before he'd made his apologies about the late hour.
And she had accepted them happily, smiling and stroking his chest.
She'd told him she looked forward to the next time. And he hadn't had the heart to say he'd wished he'd never touched her.
He'd been the one to walk away, straight to the bathing pools.
The entire event had done nothing except leave him terrified of what his life was destined to become.
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