The Usurper's Throne

8

That night, I met the Wereking. I didn't know what I expected, but the man before me was not it. I was sitting in the library, scanning books, hoping to find something—anything—on elementals or werewolf history. I only found too many English romance novels and WWII history books. My five guards followed me wherever I went. My only time alone was in the bathroom. It was exhausting.

I had been in the library for hours. Dewey Decimal had no subsection for supernatural werewolf history, and the library ran two stories of confusing volumes. A lot of the books were old, but mundane. Who needs a billion books on the Hundred Years War?

I needed information on the elementals. I had never heard of them before, and something was nagging at me, telling me that Damien was not being totally honest. I needed to figure out who the elementals were and why Damien told me about them. Was it just so I knew the Wereking was more dangerous than he looked?

I was scanning the history section once again and a hand reached in front of my face to pull a book out. I stepped back and turned to see a mid-size man pulling the book back. He had several men standing behind him, and my tagalongs were all standing in various states of readiness at the other end of the row of books.

"Sorry," I said quickly.

"No worries. Simply looking for a book," he said, casually. Yet, his eyes were not on the book; they were on me. "Naomi, is it?"

"Yeah." I paused. "I'm sorry. Have we met?"

"Wereking," he said simply.

My eyes widened in shock.

Him?

I stepped back, knocking against the bookcase, which swayed. This was the man who wanted me dead? We were in a small space between the two rows of books. My guards were at the far end of the row.

"Um. Hello, your highness," I said after a long pause, one that was far too long for comfort. He smiled and reached over my shoulder, setting the book back on the shelf. His hand brushed my shoulder. I was glad my hands were clasped together because I would have been shaking furiously if they hadn't been.

"What brings you here?" he asked, tilting his head curiously.

Something told me he wasn't asking about the library. "Uh," I stammered. "Curiosity," I said ambiguously. He lifted an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

I nodded slowly. He gave me a peculiar smile and turned around. He was wearing a polo shirt and khakis. Wereking? What the heck?

"Actually," I said suddenly.

He turned back and raised an eyebrow in anticipation.

"Do you know where I might find a book on...werewolf history? Maybe on... the elementals?"

He smirked. "The elementals?"

I nodded.

"Dear child," he said patronizingly. "No one is allowed to read the books about magic, remember? I could have your tongue cut out for such a question."

My blood froze. He stepped forward and grabbed my face in his hand. I froze and tried to stay still. He could snap my neck in an instant, I knew. His hands were soft, which somehow made the gesture more frightening. He knew how to keep his hands clean. I was too scared to resist.

"I like you, child." His eyes blazed into mine. "I would recommend staying out of what does not pertain to you. It would be a shame if you lost your life in a battle no one wants you to fight."

"Wereking," Reid said evenly. "Please take your hand off the Luna. There is no need to escalate, m'lord."

With that, the Wereking turned on the heel of his sneakers and left me panting in fear.

"You okay, Luna?" Reid asked. He was staring at me intently. I nodded and took a deep, shaky breath.

"Well, at least you know there are no books on magic," Smith said.

I sighed and rubbed my neck nervously. "Actually, now I know he has them. They are just not in public access. He said no one is allowed to read them, not that they don't exist." I glanced at my bodyguards, who were all looking at me skeptically.

"And if you find them, you'll be killed," Reid said slowly, as if trying to understand my rationale.

If I was going to find these books, I was going to need to lose my posse. I needed to find someone who knew this castle inside and out. Someone who lived here and might be on my side. Preferably one who could whisper spells that looked like cotton candy.

I only knew of one person who fit that bill.

I had to find Elijah.