The Aftermath

*Rowan*

The sun is beginning to peak above the tree line in the distance as I glance out the window, but I only have a few seconds to breathe as I continue to assess the situation. After James gave the sedative to my sister, he let me know he’d done everything he could to save Mother, but it was too late.
She passed away.
My sister slashed her throat.
I still can’t believe all of this has happened, but I don’t know what to do. I hate feeling helpless. I hate not knowing what’s going on, especially under my own roof. The only reason I’m still alive is because she went after our mother and not me.
Actually, that’s probably not completely true. I was awake when all of this went down. If she would’ve burst into my room with a knife, maybe I would’ve been able to prevent Mother from dying. But one thing I’ve learned over the past five years is that sitting around thinking about what I could’ve done differently. Not that I don’t constantly think about how I might’ve saved my father or kept Mara from being taken. It doesn’t do me any good, though. It only serves to prevent me from doing other productive activities with my life.
“Alpha?”
I turn to hear Wilma’s voice. Her eyes are swollen and red. “Yes?”
She dabs at her eyes. “Fritz wanted me to tell you that he’s prepared the body. She’s in the temple, whenever you’d like to see her.”
“Thank you, Wilma.” I don’t know what else to say. My mother hasn’t been here mentally since that horrible night, but I fully expected her to come back around at some point and return to the loving, caring woman we grew up with.
I’d told myself that bringing Mara back would do that, but I found out pretty quickly I was wrong. Still, I held out hope. There had to be some way to reach her. At least, that’s what I told myself. James tried everything he could think of, but nothing worked.
Now, I have to wonder what the situation will be with Mara.
“Tell Fritz I’ll be by directly.” Fritz is a jack of all trades around here. One of his skills is preparing bodies for funerals.
Wilma nods and leaves, and I’m about to make my way to the temple that sits in the woods near the mansion when I hear a beep. It came from the phone inside of my desk. I rush over, knowing it’s the spy I have at Darksky Castle. I grab the phone out of the drawer and read the message. “Did something happen, Alpha? Are you all right? This place is buzzing with energy, like they think something has happened there.”
I curse under my breath. This confirms my suspicions, that Mara was compromised by someone over there. “Yes. The queen is dead,” I tell him. “But I am very much alive.”
It takes a moment for him to say, “I’m so very sorry to hear that. The wizard here is named Alistair. He may be behind it from what I can tell.”
“All orders come from Darksky,” I remind him. “Thank you. You should try to get out of there.”
“I need to stay,” he replies. “I’m worried–for the girl. She spends a lot of time in Alistair’s office.”
I curse under my breath. He’s talking about Hezzlie–my mate! Have they discovered our connection? Are they trying to weaponize her to use against me the same way they did my sister?
I need to get her out of there. I also need to kill King Solomon and his entire family the way that he’s wiped out mine, but I will need to be cautious about how I proceed. I can’t simply start a war without having a plan first.
First things first. I drag my hand through my hair and head off toward the temple. I took a shower to wash the blood from beneath my fingernails earlier, but my hands aren’t clean, and they never will be. I’m in charge of these people. It’s my duty to keep them safe, and I’ve failed. I failed my own mother.
Outside, the air smells crisp and clean. A cool breeze stirs the leaves, and animals chatter in the forest. I would like to think it’s just another ordinary day, but it’s not, and it might not be normal around here ever again.
Our temple isn’t anything fancy. It’s a small building with a white exterior and an inside made mostly of wood with little ornamentation. My father was the sort of man who didn’t like to spend pack money on opulence–other than his own home. He wasn’t perfect, but just like Mother, he didn’t deserve to die a horrible death at the hands of King Solomon.
The door squeaks as I pull it open. Several people are standing around a coffin on the small dais at the front of the church. Many of them are weeping. For a moment, I wonder what happened to Mother’s nurse. Shouldn’t her body be here, too? I suppose Fritz didn’t want to force the queen to share her funeral showing with anyone else, though I have to wonder what difference it all makes now. Any rake or title disappears the moment we take our last breaths.
They part for me as I approach, many of them whispering condolences. I nod in thanks and then stop to look at her. She is lovely, wearing a collar that meets her chin so that one can’t see the slice in her throat or the other wounds I know Mara made in her body during the attack. She’d stabbed her more than once, I’m sure. Her eyes are closed, and her skin is pale white, but someone has fixed her makeup, so she looks lovely and peaceful.
Not at all like a woman who just died a horrible death at the hands of her own daughter.
I place my hand on hers and do not allow myself to think about the rush of sweet memories that threaten to prevent me from keeping my head on straight. I can’t show weakness or become emotional now, not when there’s work to be done. I have to find out about this Alistair. I have to get my mate back before she’s either turned into a murderer or killed herself, and I have to kill Solomon.
I stand there for a few moments, long enough to be respectable. We will have a service, probably tomorrow, which allows nobles from other lands to send their condolences, but they will not be allowed to attend. I trust no one at the moment.
When I feel I’ve done what is expected of me, I lean down and kiss her cheek. Her face is so cold, it seems she’s made of stone. Then, I turn and make my way out of the temple.
I want to use the mind-link to reach out to Hezzlie, to tell her to be careful, to see if she knows anything. But I can’t. I’m afraid it will put her in danger.
And I’m not sure what to say.
The moment I walk back into the house, I see James flying toward me, his eyes wide. I know that whatever he has to tell me it can’t be good. “What’s going on?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “I need to show you what I found.”
I take a deep breath and follow him upstairs.