Defying the Lycan King

The courtyard of Dravengard Palace was filled with people.

It had been cleared two days earlier, and now it was full.

Alphas, Lunas, gammas, and members of the royal household stood in quiet rows around a large open space at the centre.

Two wooden pyres had been built side by side. Upon them lay the embalmed bodies of Declan and Brian, dressed in the deep purple of the royal house, their hands folded across their chests and their weapons laid beside them, prepared according to Lycan custom for the final rite of fire.

Derek stood at the head of the pyres with Kira on one side and Nana on the other. Kai stood beside Nana. They were all in black, wearing shades to hide their puffy eyes.

The elder wolf came forward, carried the rites in his hands and raised both hands and the courtyard fell still.

"We give them back," he said.

"We give them back," the courtyard answered.

"Selene lent them to us. She lent them for a season, and the season is finished, and what was lent must be returned..."

His voice carried across the silent gathering as he spoke the ancient words of farewell, calling on the Moon Goddess to guide the departed and asking the living to remember their courage and their service. When the last words left his mouth, he stepped back and nodded.

Before anyone could move, a loud, broken cry cut through the air. It came from the back, high and raw, and it stopped everything. Heads turned all along the rows.

Bianca, Brian’s mother, pushed her way to the front of the crowd. She looked twenty years older than she actually was. Her hair was uncombed. She wore no mourning dress, only a plain coat.

She stumbled to her son’s pyre and threw herself across his body, arms wrapping tightly around him as she wept without restraint.

"My boy." She had both arms round him, her face pressed into his chest. "My boy, my boy, my boy."

Nobody moved to stop her.

"I let him take you." Her voice tore. "I let Crane take you and I told myself he was your father and it was his right, and I let him have you, and I never once came for you."

Kai took half a step forward and Derek caught his arm.

"Leave her."

"You used to ask me if I loved you. Do you remember? And I always said you were a grown up. Of course I do. I loved you."

Bianca sobbed into her son’s chest. "Every single day. Every day of your life, I loved you, and I never told you, and you went your whole life not knowing it. I should have told you," she sobbed. "I should have shown you how much I loved you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry."

Nana let go of Derek’s arm and went to her.

She did not say anything. She simply put both arms round Bianca from behind and held her while she wept over her son, and after a while Bianca turned and put her face into Nana’s shoulder, and the two women stood there together at the foot of the pyre.

No one tried to pull them apart or away. The gathering waited in respectful silence until their grief eased enough for two of Nana’s attendants to gently lead them back to the edge of the circle.

The ceremony continued.

Torches were brought forward. Derek took the torch for Brian. Connor took the torch for Declan. Neither of them said anything as they lowered them to the oak.

Flames caught quickly and rose high, sending thick smoke into the afternoon sky. The people stood without speaking until the fires had burned down to glowing embers and ash.

When the heat had lessened, the remains were carefully gathered. The ashes of each man were placed into separate urns. Declan’s urn was given into Derek’s keeping. Brian’s was handed to Bianca, who clutched it to her chest and wept once more. The formal rites ended with a final shared prayer for the dead and a promise that their names would not be forgotten.

***

Later that evening Kira and Derek were alone in their private chambers.

Derek sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. The weight of the day sat heavily on him. Kira crossed the room and climbed the bed beside him.

He had not spoken since the courtyard. She started to knead his shoulders.

"You’re so stiff," she said.

Derek sighed and rubbed her hand with his, and smiled, but said nothing.

After a while she said quietly, "He was a good man, Derek. Declan chose to stand with you until the end. That mattered."

Derek’s shoulders rose and fell with a slow breath. He turned his head and looked at her. The usual cold distance in his eyes had thinned, leaving something rawer in its place.

Kira shifted closer and wrapped her arms around him. He let her. For a long moment they simply held each other in the quiet room.

When he finally lifted his head, their faces were close. Kira brushed her thumb across his cheek.

Kira reached up and took his face in her hands.

"Come here."

Derek leaned in and kissed her — slow at first, then deeper as the tension of the past days loosened between them.

Nothing about it was frantic. She kissed him slowly and let him take his time, and when his arms finally came round her waist and pulled her in, she felt something she couldn’t explain.

"I’ve got you," she said against his mouth. "I’m here. I’m not going anywhere."

"You’d better not be."

"Never again. I promise you."

He kissed her again, deeper this time, and his hands found the fastenings at the back of her dress.

"Are you sure?" he murmured.

She didn’t answer, instead, she pulled back just enough to look at him properly, and there was warmth in his eyes for the first time all day.

"I have missed you for days, but not anymore," he said. "Take the dress off."

Kira giggled as he turned and gently laid her onto the bed, and she pulled him down after her.

They undressed each other without hurry and their kisses grew warmer, and more urgent.

They took their time. There was nowhere either of them had to be and nothing left to fight, and for the first night in a long while there was no plan to make and no war to think about.

When they came together it was with the full weight of everything they had survived: the fear, the loss, the relief of still being alive and still belonging to one another.

Kira met him with equal need, her hands steady on his back, her body open and certain. Derek’s usual restraint gave way completely; he held her as if she were the only solid thing left in his world.

Afterwards they lay tangled together under the sheets, breathing quietly. Kira’s head rested on his chest. Derek’s fingers moved slowly through her hair.

"Kira."

"Mm."

"Thank you."

She lifted her head. "For what?"

"For coming back," he said.

Kira put her head back down and closed her eyes.

"Always," she said.

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