Chapter 2
Txälina
That night, I was restless. The thought of my marriage to the new Crowned Prince had made me so. The night outside was loud, and i could hear the mournful sound of Werewolves howling. Again. And again. As if something terrible had happened.
Unable to sleep, I got up from bed.
As I left my room, I saw an unusual number of people going in and out of my father's chambers. I called a servant as I approached.
"What happened?"
"The King is dead!"
My body shook with fear. Dead!
I couldn't believe what i just heard.
Only yesterday I had seen him in the throne room and he seemed fine. He hadn't looked ill, even when we gathered in the dining room for dinner. I immediately asked to see the King.
He lay on his bed, his warm brown hands folded over his stomach. His eyes were closed as though he were only asleep.
Tears burned my eyes. Only now did I realize my father had indeed looked his six hundred and sixty five years. In human, he would be in his sixties. Wrinkles marred his skin.
People bustled in and out, preparing to move his body from the room.
The door creaked open. The Queen looked younger without her crown and heavy makeup. If the shock of my father's death affected her, she did not show it. Her face was as hard as granite, an ice queen to her core.
"You'll be Queen before the day ends."
I was about to become Queen regent of twenty werewolf packs. I was about to be married to a man I had spoken to for only twenty minutes. I expected some crack in my mother's mask. This was her husband, lying dead on his bed. But she only stared, her face as unyielding as stone. Would I wear such a mask during my reign as Queen? Would I never show my children warmth?
Txänuwan joined us moments later. She rushed inside the room in her favourite blue nightgown. Her eyes widened at the empty bed where our father had lain before being moved. Golden eyes welled with tears, though she quickly blinked them away.
"May he rest forever in Txärwan," she muttered. Txärwan was the place where the moon goddess took the dead.
"You two, return to your rooms," Mother said. "I'll see to the high priestess and we'll prepare for the King's burial."
"What about the Mist Pack?" Txänuwan asked.
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"They'll see the change of King as a chance to rebel and force a new religion on the people."
Of course they would. I had heard stories of the Mist Pack; how they had once abandoned the moon goddess for something darker. Since every Ngäerawan King was a devout servant of the goddess, no King would allow his people to worship another deity. This angered the Mist Pack, and for centuries they had longed to separate from Ngäerawa and form a kingdom of their own.
"This should be discussed with Dxülaen. You two will be married immediately after the funeral."
I wanted to ask her for at least a week to mourn my father. But my mother would never agree. Such was the custom of this realm.
---
The death of the King shook the realm. Every royal-born traveled immediately to the palace. Those too far to come, visited the temple of Säli, the moon goddess, to mourn their King.
But I was given no time to mourn.
No one spoke as we followed the funeral procession up the narrow road to my father's tomb.
At the tomb, where his body would be laid, the priestesses stepped forward. They wore black and smelled of death.
My eyes fell on Alpha Dxülaen, who stood apart like a statue, away from the sarcophagus.
As was custom, every member of the King's family knelt before the dead King to touch the sarcophagus before he was laid to rest. My mother, still the Queen, came first. I followed, and Txänuwan after me.
All eyes turned to Dxülaen, who stood motionless.
"Come forward," the priestess commanded.
Dxülaen did not move.
Everyone stared at him. My lips twisted.
"Alpha Dxülaen," the priestess said calmly. "You must pay obeisance to the King's body before the crown would be passed to you."
He remained still.
"Move!" an Elder ordered.
I held my breath and glanced at my mother. She only shook her head.
Finally, Dxülaen stepped forward, but not to kneel. His face curled into a deep frown, the muscles twitching.
"Why must I kneel and bow to him in obeisance?" he demanded. "I am a King, and a King kneels to no one!"
My eyes widened at his words. For a moment, I thought the priestesses, who carried the power of the moon goddess, would strike him dead. But Dxülaen was the Crowned Prince, the only legitimate heir to the Ngäerawan throne as Säli had decreed. If he were killed, the throne would remain empty for two years, for it takes two years to contest a new ruler. But such a thing had never happened. A high priestess had never killed the chosen ruler of the realm. Säli herself would not allow it.
"You have not yet been crowned," the high priestess said. "You forget you are still a Prince. You will honour the King. He was a great ruler, and failure to do so would draw wrath from Säli."
"Säli?" Dxülaen scoffed, as though her name were a jest. "I will become a mighty King, greater than this realm has ever known. With me, I shall raise Dark Säli above all. I'll build temples for her, and she will be honoured throughout the realm."
At the mention of that name, Dark Säli, goose bumps prickled my skin. No one had dared speak it in ages. But now this Alpha, soon to be King, spoke it with power. I shook my head at the blasphemy.