49. Wild

Wild

"What did ye mean ye've never had rabbit?" my father asked the Dublin Prince, who, at the time, had two more years than my eight on what my people called Inis Altain the auld language. The Wild Island.

I'd not set foot in a proper city at that point. But over the course of the spring quarterly, spent refilling ancient chalices and fetching for the four rulers, it had become more than clear that the Dublin Prince's version of growing up didn't look a damn thing like mine.

My father turned to the Dublin King to demand, "What were you hunting for, then, that made us have to push the quarterly back to Monday and fuck up all of our weeks?"

The top of the City King's forehead reddened, but his voice remained haughty as ever when he answered, "As I've already explained, the Noble Masters of Foxhound Association had their annual charitable hunt last weekend. Thanks to the UK ban, we've had more international interest than usual from the English nobility, so as the Hunt Chairman, I couldn't have possibly — "

"Put us lowly wolf kings above those ridiculous horse-riding city humans playing dress-up in their red coats," Da finished for him.

"Conall, will you stop?" my mother scolded. She only ever used my father's true name when she was truly fed up. "This is meant to be a lovely last breakfast before we depart. I got up at the crack of dawn to make it for you lot."

We were all sitting around the dining room table on the last day of the quarterly at Belfast House.

"Cos ye're so damn in love with that bloody stove top," Da grumbled.

The Belfast Priest, sworn to Christ, and the City King, who spoke with an accent so posh you might've mistaken him for English, both visibly winced at my father's rough language.

"And what if I am?" my mother shot back, her tone sharp. "When's the next time I'll get to use a proper one, travelin' as I must with the Wild Wolves?"

"As you get to travelas queen of the Wild Wolves," my father corrected, his teeth gritted. "If the job's too hard for ye, maybe we ought to try for a daughter at the next full moon."

My mother went quiet, as she always did when he brought up trying for a daughter — at least in front of others.

At home, though, she'd have had plenty to say. Not unless yer father rises from the grave to force me into another cage with ye.Or: Why, so you can marry her off to whatever prince points at her, same as you did me?And when she'd had too much to drink, she'd scream: As if I'd ever pass this miserable fate on to another innocent girl. I thank the gods every moon you got your heir on the first try, so I'll never have to let you near me again.

Loud enough for the entire encampment to hear .

Lucky for me da, she'd had nothing to drink during the quarterly he'd dragged her to, even though the Sea King was widowed, and the Dublin King always left his mate at home. Just picked at the remains of the tinned baked beans on her plate.

"The breakfast is much appreciated," the Belfast Priest said into the tense silence.

"I mean, proper delicious," the Sea King added with a shy glance at my mother — before remembering himself and clearing his throat. He turned to me instead. "Please tell your mother the breakfast is not only tasty but truly appreciated."

"Thank you," my mother answered before I could relay the message. She barely looked up, her voice small, defeated. "It feels nice to be appreciated."

"Isn't it, though?" my father replied, his voice tight with mockery. "Isn't it nice to be acknowledged for all you do? Even once in a while?"

Another thick silence. I didn't fully understand it back then, but I felt it. The anger that clung to every word, the bitterness that hung between them. Even at eight, I knew something was wrong, even if I didn't have the words to explain it.

"I'll teach ye how to hunt proper," Da suddenly announced, turning back to the Dublin Prince. "Least I can do before you and yer da set off to the city."

And that was the decision that marked the end of their marriage.

If Da heard the Dublin King's warning about wanting to get back to the East Coast before dark as we set off with his son and the Sea Prince, he didn't act like it .

As soon as we reached the farmlands on the other side of the old Sea Kingdom town, he told Sea and Dublin, "It's my duty and honor to show you two princes how to catch foxes and rabbits — realrabbits."

He shot a disapproving look at the Sea Prince, the oldest of us three at twelve. "Not those plump special breeds you lot farm in the down below. Can barely waddle, much less escape an arrow."

"What's the down below?" Dublin asked, plucking the favorite bow my da had made me give him like it was some kind of harp.

Da just sighed before announcing, "Here's how it'll go. I'll wait for ye here, and the three of you can come back when you've caught a fox and a rabbit each."

"Each?" Dublin scrunched his brow. "But I don't even know how to shoot an arrow."

"Believe me, you'll figure it out once the hunger sets in," Da answered. His voice held about as much sympathy as a stone. "Now go. The longer ye ask questions, the longer it'll take."

We set off in three different directions.

But of course, I returned less than an hour later with a fox whose neck I'd broken and a rabbit I'd had to throw a knife at since I'd given my favorite bow to a city eejit who didn't even know how to use it.

Sea took longer, about three clicks of the sun. And it was dark by the time Dublin came back, his face streaked with dirt, sweat, and the salty trails of frustration tears.

Neither Da nor I wore watches, but we didn't need to. The first thing Dublin yelled was, "Nine hours! Jayzuz Christ, it took me nine bloody hours to complete your goddamn mission! "

Da and me swapped smug looks. The Dublin Prince wasn't so posh now, was he?

"Feelin' proper accomplished, then, ain't ye?" Da asked, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.

Dublin kicked at the dirt before admitting, "Yeah. Yeah, I am. And I'm a right shot now."

We all laughed.

Sea handed him one of the sandwiches he'd fetched from the human town when the sun started to drop, and we realized Dublin wouldn't return anytime soon. I clapped him on the back and told him he could keep my favorite bow.

Us being Irish, we turned the walk back to Belfast House into a recounting of our kills, each story more embellished than the last. Even Dublin laughed at my dead-on impression of him yelling, "Nine hours!" when he emerged from the hunt. And Da laughed hardest of all.

None of us knew that would be his last laugh. His last smile. His last enjoyment of any good times with his son.

That "nine hours" would have a different meaning as soon as we walked back into Belfast House.

To no one's surprise, the Dublin King awaited us at the lake path. We'd missed his deadline to get back by a good three or four hours.

"Why the bloody hell do you choose to live your life without a phone?" The Dublin King's expression was both furious and uneasy in the moonlight as he confronted my father.

I sniggered. Posh gobshite must have been in a right state, thinking something bad had happened to his son .

Da began to shrug. I suspected he had a right bastard-like line all prepared to further piss the Dublin King off.

But then his eyes flicked up to the Belfast House, and he stilled.

"If you only had a phone, all of this could have been prevented!" The Dublin King's voice had taken on a note of defensive panic.

And my amusement faded as I followed Da's gaze.

There was only one light on. The one for the room we'd been given at Belfast House — the one with the extra-large bed my mother pointed out was meant for luckyqueens with two mates.

"You've never even managed to satisfy one husband," my father had sneered at her. "And now you wish for two?"

They'd slept on opposite sides of me every night of the quarterly, using their son as a physical barrier.

But now, something about that lone light in the window filled me with dread, though I couldn't explain why. Not yet.

"What happened here?" My father's voice lost its jovial edge, tightening into something darker.

"I would've called you," the Dublin King answered. "I could've come to get you if you hadn't run off for hours on end without any way to reach you."

"What. Happened?" My father roared, making all of us princes flinch.

"Come, son." The Dublin King grabbed the City Prince's arm, making him drop my bow in the dirt. "This is a mess brought on by their nature. We can do nothing to help these savages."

He dragged his son away, leaving Sea and me standing outside the house with my father .

I'd never forgive the former Dublin King for that. For removing his precious heir and leaving the other two boy princes to deal with the fallout.

Sea and I followed Da into the house but stayed at the bottom of the stairs as we were told. My stomach churned, every sound from upstairs twisting it tighter.

Then came my mother's voice, sharp and furious, cutting through the stillness. "Are you truly surprised? Surprised I'd go into heat the first time I was shown even a measure of kindness and respect?"

The sounds of a fight followed — thuds, crashes, and muffled grunts. My father's voice growled with fury, but it was two against one. And the Belfast Priest and the Sea King had their newly aroused protective wolf strength on their side.

It didn't take them long to overpower my da and tie him up.

Nine hours…

I thought about defying my father's order and going upstairs to intervene.

But Sea grabbed my arm as soon as I headed for the steps and solemnly shook his head.

Nine hours…

Eventually, the three of them came down the stairs, fully dressed. The Belfast Priest, the Sea King, and my mother. Watching her come down the steps with the two of them flanking her sides became an instant core memory. They already looked like the happy trimates I'd seen in our village.

The smell of two males who were not my father on her was so overwhelming I immediately broke down in tears .

"Oh, don't cry, my boy, don't cry." My mother had never been as hard as my father. She stopped in front of me and bent down to gently wipe away my tears. "None of this is your fault," she said. "But this is my first — my onlychance at happiness. I must go with my true mates to Belfast. And who knows?"

She gave me a sad little smile as tears began to roll down her own face. "Maybe I'll be able to give you a little sister after all."

Nine hours…

My mother was leaving us? And defying everything the Wild Wolves held dear to move to a city?

Sea stood by, having a stoic conversation with the father, who also wouldn't be raising him. But my boyish tears turned into wails, and I clung to her, refusing to let go.

"Oh, none of that," she insisted, pushing at my arms. "Your father will point at another she-wolf mate, and raise you in his image to become king of the Wild Wolves. You'll be fine."

In the end, the Sea Prince came over and physically separated me from my mother, then held me back when I tried to lunge for her again.

"It's already done, and we're only boys," Sea said as I strained against his hold. "There's nothing we can do."

She promised me I'd be fine. But in the end, that hadn't been true.

My mother going into heat had been enough to make the Belfast Priest forsake all his vows, even after Da and Dublin's father stripped him and Sea's father of their titles.

That, and establishing the Heat Laws, was the last thing my father ever did. Sea got to see his father one final time, but my mother did not dare to come with her mates to that final meeting.

When we got back to the encampment, he sent me ahead to our family hut. The next morning, I woke alone, cold inside. I found him hanging from a tree — his only escape from the love he still held for my mother, his last word in their final argument.

The Cursed King…

"Ye asked why I was so mean to ye. Why I'd go to any lengths to see the prophecy through. Well, that's why." The creak of Da's body swayin' from the tree branch echoed in my head as I returned to the present.

By the time I finished the story, the rain had stopped, and a puddle had formed between where Flower and I stood.

I kept my eyes on it. "Ye were raised in your religion, Flower. After me da's death, the prophecy was all I had. The only thing that would make the story of City, Sea, and Wild uniting under one queen worth all the pain. So, believe me when I tell ye, I understand being hated. I understood it from the start with ye. And I tried…"

I clenched my fists. "Ye have no idea how hard I've been fighting not to fall in love with ye. But ye're too fucking wonderful, aren't ye?"

I shook my head. "Not just beautiful, not just our fated queen, but ye're smart, pure funny, interesting as hell — I mean, truly fucking layered. And don't even get me started on how ye refuse to take any of my shite. How could I not love ye like my father loved my mother? Uselessly. Endlessly. Even if you hate me back."

That was it. That was the story. When I finally met her eyes, Flower's side of the mate bond was frozen with horror.

"Wild… Wild, I can't do this with you," she said, her head shaking at the ground. She couldn't even look at me. "You're going to have to let me… "

"Of course," I said, quickly stepping aside so she could return to the house without having to walk through the puddle. "I understand why ye wouldn't want to —"

Her body slammed into mine, and she wrapped her arms around me tighter than I'd clung to my mother when she left.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you," she whispered into my chest. "But I don't hate you…"

She sighed, all the warmth of her feelings flowing over our bond. "I don't hate you."

My chest collapsed under those four words: I don't hate you.

"Don't say that," I warned, even as I grabbed onto her, holding her fierce as a luchorpánwould his treasure. "Don't say that, or I won't be able to…"

Too late. The tenuous grip I had on my mate bond snapped.