Chapter 7

7

KILLIAN

M y father showed me pictures of the palace when I was younger. I think he always hoped to go back, but the older he got, the less likely that became.

Ireland became home. With no wolves left in the wild, there are no packs once you travel outside Dublin city. The wolves there are businessmen, with no interest in what we were doing, deep in the countryside. And being in the company of some other formidable shifters allowed us a little grace.

Once we stayed out of their way, they pretended we didn't exist.

Even though Dad spoke about what might need to be done some day, when you're living a simple life in a small town, it's hard to imagine ever leaving for a life of back-stabbing politics and constantly looking over your shoulder.

Getting stuck here and dealing with that for the rest of my days is exactly something I'm keen to avoid, at all costs.

The rumble of the wheels as we drive over cattle grids announce that we're now on private property.

Keeping my eyes closed, and reality at bay for as long as I can, I imagine myself standing on the cliffs at home, the wind on my face, nothing but ancient trees and expanses of wild, untamed landscape all around me. I can almost smell the salt air.

Soon. I'll be back there as soon as my duty and my promise to my father is fulfilled.

With a quiet exhale, I summon all enthusiasm I can muster and open my eyes as the vehicle rolls to a stop. Tall towers rise from rolling green lawns, manicured to within an inch of their lives. Ornate arches and beautiful stonework make it clear this is no ordinary property. This was built to demonstrate power and prestige. If it weren't for the crumbling wing and the bleak-looking scorch marks on one side, it would have both in spades, although calling it a palace is probably a bit of an exaggeration.

This was my family home, although I never had the privilege of living here. I know how much it hurt my father to abandon it after centuries of occupation by my ancestors. The weight of our family legacy weighs heavily on me now—not enough to make me want to pick up where he left off, though.

No way. I can feel the pressure tightening in my chest, and I haven't even set foot through the door.

Pulling myself up straight, I open the door and step out onto the gravel.

"Sir." An immaculately dressed man bows from his position at the bottom of the steps. "Welcome home."

The words are jarring. As I absorb the sheer scale of the building, and the absurdity that just one family lived here, I step toward him, one hand extended in greeting.

"Thank you. But I have one request. Let's not do the whole bowing thing. It's not the way I was raised, and it makes me feel like a jackass." My order is met with wide-eyed shock. "Call me Killian."

The stunned expression is replaced with one of strong indignation. "Respectfully, I cannot call you Killian. But you may call me Edmund." He shakes my hand with a dip of his head, and I smile. This is a man that takes his job seriously. "I am here to help you, day or night, with anything you might need."

The two enforcers that drove me here from the Steel Pack stand on either side of me, silently observing this interaction. I can sense how tense they are, constantly waiting for something to happen. How could anyone live like this?

"What I need right now, is to ensure that the Walkers and their extended family are granted access to the palace. Could you invite them for dinner over the next few days? And that any palace records about the attack on the royal family and subsequent investigations are brought here for me to review."

Edmund nods, and instantly, I know it will be done.

He takes my bag, seeming offended when I attempt to keep hold of it initially, and climbs the steps before halting at the wide-open door, waiting for me to pass.

"A skeleton staff has been maintaining the property, but I'm bringing in reinforcements. Elodie has been working hard to make sure your chambers are ready for you. If you have any additional needs, I'm sure she'll be more than willing to assist."

I glance at Edmund, but his expression is perfectly blank.

"I have no additional needs," I assure him.

I'm certain I see a ghost of a smile flit across his face.

"Very well. Dinner will be served at 6 p.m., and you have a security debrief afterward with Alpha Zane Williams. He's the head alpha in this region and is bringing in a team from the surrounding packs."

He leads me through the opulent hallway, with cream marble and golden everything. Red drapes hang over the windows, drawn back by shimmering bronze rope tie backs. There are vases of flowers on side tables, and old paintings hang on the walls. Chandeliers glisten in the sunlight that's streaming through the tall windows.

"While I appreciate the effort, this seems like overkill for a single man who's been living in an old farmhouse for the last forty years."

Edmund doesn't slow down, and I think I'm going to enjoy his single-minded efficiency.

"It's not for you, sir. There are many people thrilled by your return, proof that good can triumph over evil. A show of defiance in the face of those who tried to beat you down is meant to inspire them , not you."

Well, that told me.

That's not something I'd ever thought of, mainly, because I don't consider myself a prince.

In my head, this visit is about tracking down those who want to hurt us. Ridiculous as it sounds, I didn't think anyone else would care that I was back, having gotten so used to a life ruled by the council. I thought they'd consider the monarchy outdated, and me, an entitled noble, looking to return and live the high life.

Edmund stops outside a large door and tilts his head toward it.

Relieved to finally have a space of my own, I walk in and stand in the middle of the expansive suite. Turning on the spot, I'm struggling to absorb the sheer opulence and luxury of my surroundings.

This doesn't feel real, and it certainly doesn't feel like I've done anything to deserve it.

"You'll get used to it. I know that's hard to imagine now, but you will." Edmund hands me a folder and looks me in the eye. Whatever's coming next is serious. "Read this. This is your bible. It lists all the council members, their bios, all the alphas and the current governance set up for shifters. I've also included maps to the property, the grounds, the region and everything you need to know about how the palace runs, the facilities here, how to contact your team, etcetera."

The binder feels like a dead weight in my hands, and I'm already itching to fling it away, but instead, I tuck it under my arm and thank Edmund, who backs out of my room with another bow.

I dump the folder onto a nearby table and tug at my tie, opening the top button of my shirt and sigh. The view from the long balcony outside catches my attention, and I move to the glass. When I go to open the door to step outside, I growl, pissed off, when I find it locked with no key left anywhere obvious.

"I think you're looking for these." Elodie stands in the open doorway and holds out a set of keys. "I'm pretty certain Zane will ask that you keep all doors and windows locked, so enjoy the breeze, this might be your last chance to get it."

Her long, wavy hair rests perfectly over her shoulders as she takes a step into the room. Dressed in a cream knit dress, she looks elegant and polished. She's a beautiful woman, and I can appreciate her good looks like someone who recognises a work of art or a sunset, from afar.

But Elodie stirs nothing within me, except for longing for her sister.

Clenching my teeth, I nod and take a step back as she approaches. "You can leave them on the table."

The flash of hurt in her eyes makes me feel bad for being so abrupt, but I need to make it clear we're not going to happen. Not in the way her mother intends, at least.

"The palace looks magnificent. You might give me a proper tour tomorrow, once I've started to get my bearings."

She inclines her head and smiles demurely; every movement is that of a lady who's had years of training in good manners and high society. "I'll look forward to it."

Elodie brazenly slides her business card onto the dark mahogany sideboard beside her. She holds my eye for a fraction of a second longer than is probably appropriate when addressing the prince, but this woman knows her looks will let her get away with a lot.

As she slips outside, and the air in the room clears, I tip my head back and stare at the ceiling.

I have a feeling Elodie won't be easily deterred.