ELRETH

“Elreth, what are you doing?!” Aaryn hissed, taking her arm, but she jerked out of his grip and stepped forward into the gap that had suddenly been left by the crowd pulling away from her.

“Who defies their King?” her father snarled. The words rumbled off into a growl so low she would have sworn she felt it in the dirt under her feet. Her father, Reth, faced them all, arms at his sides, hands open but clawed, his fingers twitching like he was ready to snap a neck.

“I do! Your Heir!” Ignoring Aaryn’s panicked warnings, she stepped forward and the startled crowd parted to give her space as she stalked closer to the stage, glaring at her father. “And I defy you because what you suggest is treason to your people!”

Reth snarled and his eyes flashed the gold of his Lion, but he blinked it back. “You stand in challenge to your King?” His voice was rough, a half-growl that he spit through gritted teeth.

Always the predator, he watched Elreth’s progress through the amphitheater, his chin down and eyes narrowed as she made her way to the stairs to reach him. Her nerves jangled, but she didn’t let herself think, just stormed across the grass and up the stairs. It wasn’t until she reached the top and he turned to face her alone that she remembered why her father was King.

Reth was one of the sweetest and most loving men she knew. Usually very slow to anger, and more inclined to think, or joke his way out of conflict. But he was also the most dominant ruler the Anima had ever enjoyed. After he put down an entire mutiny from the wolves twenty years earlier, nothing had threatened his rule since. He was fearless in battle, and one of the largest Anima that existed.

But he wasn’t King because of his size, though it was formidable. Gareth Orstas Hyrehyn was Clan Leader, King, and Alpha of all Tribes, because of the sheer masculine dominance he carried like a mantel around his shoulders—like the mane of the lion beast whose blood ran in his veins, and whose presence was contained within him.

So, the moment he turned all that aggression, the pure certainty of his own power, towards her, with his teeth bared, and the light of the Lion in his eyes, Elreth was reminded why she had always prayed this moment would never come.

Every animal instinct within her screamed at her to bow, to drop her head and roll her shoulders and submit to her King.

Every instinct, except one.

She was her father’s daughter, after all. Elreth bowed to no one.

The instinct to rule, to control, to use the power within, shoved her chin forward and she held his gaze without wavering as she snarled back, “To abandon any part of your people is treason to the throne you claim. You taught me that!”

The crowd gasped and her father, the King, quivered with rage.

His massive hands clenched to fists as he prowled towards her.

Elreth was vaguely aware of her mother watching them from a few feet away. But she didn’t dare take her eyes off her father—though in this, at least, he was no longer her father. Or her King. For now he was the enemy. And she let him see her know the truth of that. To scent her certainty. “Anima is Anima! Disformed or not, they are our people and we will not abandon them!”

His snarl rippled across the space between them and many in the crowd gasped as he flowed forward, towards her. “You know nothing of what is required to rule a changing people!”

“Where is the fight in you?” she hissed. He gave a warning growl at that, but she kept going. “Where is the fierce defense of our people—all our people?” She threw a hand wide, towards the crowd. “You give in to weak-minded traitors who would have followed the wolves if they’d had more courage. And for what? So you don’t have to argue anymore?”

He reached her and stopped, toe-to-toe, and her heart thudded. She knew he could hear it. But that meant he could also see the utter certainty in her eyes—and scent her unwavering resolve.

He topped her by almost a foot and was easily twice her weight, despite the fact that she was large for a female, tall and strong in a way that her younger brother always claimed, alongside her firstborn status, meant that she was supposed to have been male.

Her father’s eyes, normally a warm brown, had flickered to beast and now glared back her, golden and rich—and fierce.

“I will give you one, last chance before I take your throat.” His voice was the rumbling bass of half-man, half-beast as he straightened to loom over her, his eyes widened even as he kept his chin down to defend his throat. “Submit to your King.”

“I will not submit to this!”

The people gasped and Elreth heard Aaryn snarl for her to stop. She smelled his fear—she could scent him anywhere—but she couldn’t break the gaze her father had locked on her. Not now. She had started this, she would finish it.

Wouldn’t she?

The crowd held its collective breath as her father began to smile the teeth-baring grin of a predator on the hunt.

“You challenge for the throne, Elreth?” her father purred. “Your youth and arrogance will get you killed, is that what you want?”

“I want all Anima free and secure in the WildWood,” she snarled back. “And if you will not give them that, I will!”

A chorus of roars, calls, barks and brays rose to shatter the morning air, declaring to the world, the King is challenged! The King faces a contender! Come see who will win the throne!

Elreth’s stomach went cold. What have I done?

She trembled as, ignoring the cacophony from the people, her father leaned in until they were nose to nose. She didn’t let herself flinch from him. Didn’t let herself break the gaze.

But, as if he’d heard her thought, below the noise of the frantic crowd, and in the soft, firm voice she’d known since before she was birthed, through unmoving lips her father muttered, “Do it, Elreth. It’s time.”

They stared at each other as it hit Elreth like a blow.

He’d set her up! Her father had set her up. Forced her to confront him.

He’d been trying to convince her to challenge for the throne for months and she’d refused to even have the conversation. She wasn’t ready to rule! Not to mention that the Anima hadn’t even fully accepted the disformed yet—they weren’t ready for a female dominant.

Besides, her father, though older, was still vital and strong. He had years ahead of him before anyone would come close to challenging him.

He’d been insistent that she step in, and she hadn’t known why. She had hoped, in recent weeks, that he’d given up, because he hadn’t mentioned it lately.

But now… This.

“Elreth…” he muttered again, his eyes flashing as the crowd cheered and called for blood. “Do. It.”

Breath heaving so her chest rose and fell, Elreth let her weight settle on the balls of her feet, and loosened her stance, her knees bending just slightly.

“Sorry, Dad,” she breathed.

Then, as he began to smile, she launched herself at his throat.