Chapter 86: You Are King
(MAYA)
The witch.
A woman in her forties, her black hair in soft, gentle curls, her gray eyes cold, holding an animosity aid toward the two of us. Her feet are bare and leave a burst of greenery in their wake, as if she’s breathing life back into the damaged land. Flowers and grass grow right before my eyes, blooming and turning green.
"Griffin," she says, her voice smooth and cold.
"I should’ve known it was you." I glance at him. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t speak.
Her eyes trail over him like a blade, slow and sharp. "You have a lot of nerve walking into my woods."
"I didn’t co here by choice," he says, his voice calm and steady. "We are only passing through."
She circles slightly, not touching him but close enough to make
uneasy. Her gaze lingers on his neck, the side of his ribs, his wrist, where the skin looks thinner, almost raw.
"I can see it on you," she murmurs. "The years. The chains."
He doesn’t answer.
"You’ve been gone a long ti," she adds. "Most assud you were dead."
I blink. How does she know so much about him?
The witch’s lips curl into sothing that might be amusent, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. "And now the lost king crawls back from whatever pit held him. What a surprise."
My stomach twists. "King?" I ask, too loud in the unnatural quiet.
Griffin’s expression doesn’t change, but I see it, the glint in his eyes. He doesn’t deny it.
"You’re a king?"
He glances at , just once. "I was."
The witch snorts. "Was? You still are. Whether you want it or not. Your brother has never once stopped looking for you. Erik’s a fool to have waited so long."
I take a step back without aning to. My breath fogs in the chilled air, though it’s not that cold. The weight of the mont presses down like wet stone.
He lied. No, he didn’t lie; he hid the truth. All this ti in that cabin, all the tis I ntioned Erik, all the tis he did... No wonder Griffin knew so much about him. No wonder he seed so familiar with the king of the Human Wolf Kingdom.
I recall Corrine telling
about Erik’s older brother going missing, but I never paid much attention. It was Griffin? The witch turns to him again, dismissing
entirely.
"You brought intruders into my territory."
"I was seeking to evade them. I did not an to bring harm to your land."
She tilts her head, studying him like a puzzle piece she doesn’t rember losing. "You’re heading ho."
"Eventually."
She steps closer, and sothing in the air constricts. I feel it in my teeth, my spine. Magic, coiled and waiting.
"Don’t mistake my tolerance for forgiveness," she says. "You brought your curse into my woods. If I had known sooner, the rain would have fallen harder and burned down that cabin, you and your human pet with it."
I hiss, but Griffin dips his head slightly. Not in fear. In acknowledgnt. "We were waiting for the rain to subside. We will take our leave now." She studies him for a beat longer, then finally turns.
"I am offering you safe passage, but know this, a welco gift to a king long gone, your heart will wither in your own hands. What’s ant to be will not survive. The Goddess gave you not a gift but a curse, your undoing. The fates do not intend to be kind to you."
Griffin goes still, and before either of us can respond, she’s back in the trees, vanishing between the trunks like smoke, leaving a trail of green life behind her.
I exhale.
The quiet returns. It’s not peaceful, just empty.
I look at Griffin. He’s staring at the place where she disappeared, his face unreadable. "So," I say, my voice hoarse, "you’re the king."
He closes his eyes briefly. "I was taken ten years ago. Captured. Imprisoned."
"And now you’re not."
"No."
I cross my arms, more to keep steady than out of anger. "You could’ve told ."
His gaze returns to . There’s no apology in it, but sothing quieter. Regret, maybe.
"I was still piecing together my mories. I wanted to be sure of everything before I said anything."
I huff. "That’s one hell of an answer, but I don’t bla you if you didn’t trust , or still don’t. After what you’ve been through, I wouldn’t trust a stick."
We stand there silently, surrounded by the ghost of steam and scorched leaves.
The King. Erik’s brother.
I let out a shaky breath. "Well, I guess we’re going the sa way, then. Co on. Let’s get out of these woods before she changes her mind."
***
The edge of the forest breaks suddenly, like we’ve crossed so invisible line. The trees thin out, the ground softens beneath our feet, and for the first ti in what feels like forever, I can see the sky.
It’s a dull gray, heavy with clouds, but it’s sky nonetheless, and it’s not dripping acid, so I’ll call that a win.
I glance at Griffin as we keep walking. He moves like he’s asuring every step, quiet and certain. Even out here, he doesn’t seem relieved. Just focused.
"Do you know where we are?" I ask, brushing a branch out of the way.
"I do," he says, not hesitating. "We’re far from the palace, but if we keep moving, we’ll make it in two days." Two days. That feels both impossibly long and dangerously short.
I chew on the inside of my cheek. "Do you think she’ll tell Erik she saw you?"
He doesn’t answer right away. His shoulders are broad and still, like he’s weighing sothing. When he speaks, his voice is low. "She won’t."
"How can you be sure?"
"That wasn’t just any witch." He glances sideways at . "She’s old. Ancient. The sort that rembers the first blood spilled between our kinds."
I shiver at the mory of her eyes, that ageless emptiness behind them.
"She could have killed ," Griffin says simply. "If she’d wanted to, I’d be dead. She didn’t." "So, she let us go?"
He nods once. "Which ans she won’t interfere. But she won’t help, either."
I stare at the trail ahead, broken by brambles and twisted roots. "That’s comforting."
Griffin almost smiles. Almost. "Didn’t say it would be easy."
We walk in silence for a while. His presence is steady beside , but every so often, I feel him looking. Just out of the corner of his eye, quick and quiet. Not possessive. Not protective. Just watching. Like he’s trying to rember .
The way he focuses on
makes my heart feel strange. I don’t get butterflies in my stomach; I’m not that kind of girl. I make butterflies happen. But when Griffin walks next to , his hand keeps brushing against mine with those thick, firm fingers, and I’m reminded of how he was able to encircle my entire waist.
Even as weak as he is, he was strong enough to handle all those shifters. I can only imagine what he’ll be like once he’s at full strength.
My fingers graze his once, and I pretend it’s an accident, but my heart skips as if I touched fire. He doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t press closer, either. Just let the space between us thrum.
I clear my throat. "Back in the woods, the witch said sothing weird to you."
He tenses slightly. "A prophecy. She’s fond of them."
"But you don’t know what she ant?"
"No," he says, jaw tight. "She likes talking in riddles. But prophecies are unique to her bloodline, and none of them have ever been good."
I believe him. Nothing about the way she looked at Griffin felt like a blessing. It felt like a warning wrapped in teeth. "You really don’t rember anything else?" I ask softly. "From before? When you were taken?"
"I rember so of it, but not all. I’m"—he hesitates—"I’m doubting so of my own mories. I do know I was betrayed."
In the cell, he called Quentin a traitor. "Was it by that shifter you killed, the one who tried to attack ?"
I don’t say his na, but Griffin nods. "Quentin was my right-hand man. We grew up together, fought together. He was also my guard. I don’t know where I was when he injected
with sothing. But I know it was him."
"And now he’s dead," I murmur. "Good riddance. A little dramatic, though, crushing his heart and all, but very satisfying. Props for presentation."
His lips tug at the corner as he glances at . "You talk a lot." I shrug. "Sobody has to. You don’t talk at all."
"I speak when necessary."
I pretend to yawn, and he chuckles. "The sound of your voice was comforting in the cell. I don’t think I will ever tire of hearing you speak."
His words make
blush. "Well, you would be the first man to say that to . Normally, they can’t wait for
to shut up."
"Then you have been around the wrong n," he says simply.
"It didn’t help that I was so accomplished in my field. Most of the guys I dated liked
well enough, but they found
intimidating."
"You will learn that wolf shifters prefer strong mates." I blink. "Yes, well, I’m not dating your kind, am I?"
He gives
a long look, and my body tightens at the glittering heat in his eyes. Am I imagining things, or does he look like he wants to eat
up, and not in the grisly and morbid sense?
A gust of wind cuts through the trees, and I hug my arms tighter around myself. My thin shoes slip slightly on the damp soil.
Griffin notices. "You’re cold."
"I’m fine."
He stops walking. "Maya," he says, turning to face . "You’re shivering."
"I said I’m fine."
But I don’t stop him when he steps closer. I tilt my head back to look up at him, my heart hamring. He’s so close I can sll the earth and smoke on his skin, feel the heat radiating off him like a shield.
"I can carry you," he says. His eyes search mine, not asking for permission but waiting for refusal. "Carry ?" I scoff. "My legs work perfectly well."
He shakes his head slightly. "It’ll get us to our destination faster."
As soon as he says that, he shifts. It’s seamless. No bones cracking, no screaming, no horror. In one breath, he’s standing in front of , and in the next, there’s a massive silver wolf where Griffin was.
Now that danger is not breathing down my neck, I have the chance to really look at him. He’s beautiful. His fur is clean and looks healthier. So much better than when we first escaped.
When he gazes at , I freeze, my breath caught in my throat. His eyes, those sa sharp eyes, et mine, and I feel sothing flicker between us. A spark. Not fear. Not shock. Sothing warr.
Griffin lowers himself so I can climb on. I hesitate, heart pounding, then swing my leg over, sliding up onto his back.
His muscles ripple under , solid and strong. His body radiates heat, and the mont he rises to his full height, I feel weightless.
Then, we run.
The world blurs past us, shadows streaking at the edge of my vision. Wind whips against my cheeks, and I hold on tight, not out of fear but because for the first ti in days, I feel like I’m moving toward sothing.
And I’m not alone.
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