Finding Hope (Seaside Wolf Pack #6) - C.C. Masters Page 0,30

worried if she was showing her favoritism toward me this openly. It seemed I was to be the next King of Winter.

“And Fallon,” she murmured as she turned to my brother. “It seems you have more of your father in you.”

My mother swept her eyes over Fallon critically before she laid one of her hands on his cheek. “I can feel his warmth seeping from your pores.”

Fallon paled as she spoke. No, this was not looking good for him.

Our mother stood between the two of us as a slow smile spread over her face. “I’ve made my decision,” she announced before turning her back on us and resuming her seat on the throne. “Send for the rest of my court. I wish to make my announcement public.”

One of her servants scurried away to do her bidding as Fallon and I stood silently before the goddess on her throne. While our father had been a fae that defected from the Summer Court to take the throne of Winter, our mother was far more than just fae. She was too ancient for any history books to spell out her origin, and too powerful to be mistaken for anything less than a goddess. She was the personification of darkness, shadows made flesh.

Sweat beaded on my brother’s brow as the tension in the air grew thicker. I hadn’t expected any motherly affection from the Morrigan, and she fed off strife. Easing our fears was not her way. She was enjoying the torment that she was causing by drawing out her announcement.

Fallon finally broke down and swiped a hand over his brow, wiping away the signs of his worry. The small smile that appeared on my mother’s face revealed that his sign of weakness hadn’t gone unseen.

I remained relaxed and confident. The Morrigan saw me as her son, and Fallon as his father’s son. She’d made no attempt to hide her disdain for the former King of Winter, and I had no doubt that the dispute of his successor was going to be settled in my favor.

The throne room slowly filled with the high-ranking fae of the Winter Court, but they weren’t alone. My mother’s creatures lurked in the shadows, and the corners of the room were darker than ever before. Once the high fae had taken their places, lesser fae crowded into the back of the room. Winter allowed a place for all the misfits of the fae world, but it wasn’t out of fairness or equality. Summer may be made from the most powerful and beautiful among us, but Winter had strength in numbers.

The Morrigan rose from her throne and held her hands up in the air for silence. The room immediately hushed, and an unnatural stillness settled over the court. My mother’s return to the human world had allowed her to recover her strength before stepping back in the Winter Realm to face her former subjects. Her presence here had been met with fear and trepidation from everyone at court.

Whispers filled the castle with theories of what her return meant. Did she intend to crown herself Queen of Winter? Would she crown one of her sons and return to the much more bountiful human world? Would she slaughter my father’s most stalwart supporters? Blame those who survived the war for her own demise? She’d given no hints as to her thoughts, merely glided through the castle to replace my father’s golden throne with her own made from darkness.

Seconds ticked by as if they were hours until finally, she spoke. “I am pleased to find that the traitor king is no more,” she said with a smile. “And even more pleased to find that the battle to replace him has narrowed down the candidates to my two strongest sons.”

It felt like everyone in the throne room was collectively holding their breath. This was the moment when we’d all find out our fates. The stench of fear wafted through the room as many of the fae who supported our father waited for the Morrigan’s retaliation in terrified resignation. There was no escape from a goddess on the warpath.

“When I look at Fallon,” she said as she held a hand in my brother’s direction. “I see his father. Illian may have betrayed me in the end, but he was worthy enough to father my children.”

My mother turned to me. “Drake was created in my image. There are still traces of his father’s blood in him, but not for long.”

My heart skipped a beat. This was

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