Wrath of the Wolf Queen [HOTWP #2]

Chapter Two: NAOMI

I think I'm depressed.

I'm not sure why, though. I mean, there isn't any real reason as to why I should be feeling this way. Everything is good now. King Galen has been defeated, and his terrifying reign has ended along with him. I've married Kohl, my friends are safe, and I rule over a kingdom who (mostly) loves me. I've become something everyone thought I couldn't be, and now I get to reap the rewards of my courage. 

So why is it that I feel this persistent hollowness gnawing away at my chest? One that seems to have taken residence there ever since I was brought back to life? It's as though a part of me remained dead after that day, because now it feels like I'm missing something.

But missing what? I have no clue.

I haven't told anyone, of course. I don't want to worry Macy and Kairi with my existential problems. And Kohl... well, Kohl worries about me enough as is. I think seeing me die broke something inside of him, because he's a different sort of man now. Not in a bad way, I suppose, but it can get overwhelming when he insists on being at my side at all times, even when it's for something as simple as a walk through the gardens. It's as though he's expecting me to drop dead at any moment. It makes me a little upset when I'm denied time to myself, but I understand. I feel like I would act the same way.

I loosen a weary sigh and lean further into the bench. Staring at the row of rose bushes opposite me, I allow my mind to drift, as it often does these days. My mind goes to Alex. And Jade. There's been no trace of them since I killed Galen. And though one part of me fears that Jade has been taken somewhere against her will, another part of me -- perhaps a selfish part -- fears that she'd been on the late king's side the whole time. Afterall, only the king's lackeys had disappeared without a trace after his death, and so did Jade. Was she one of them? 

My heart starts to beat fast, and I place a hand on my chest to steady it. I don't know why I still do that; I don't need to now that my heart is fixed. I can have a normal reaction to fear and not worry about my heart giving out.

I take my hand away. Old habits die hard, I suppose. 

Just as I am about to return to my quarters for a much-needed nap, something in the rosebush shifts. 

I squint at it. Then, with a rush of movement, a man steps out from behind it and onto the path in front of me.

I jump to my feet. I know this man; I realise with a cold pang. I know those silver eyes, shining like moons on a nighttime lake. I know the snow-white hair and sun-kissed skin. He has haunted my dreams, as well as my nightmares.

And now he's here, in the flesh. In front of me. 

"I know you," I blurt, and that must surprise him because he staggers to a pause. I tilt my head slightly to the side, though something in my stomach insists that something is very wrong, that I should be running far, far away from this man. I resist the urge. I am not a coward; I do not run anymore. "Who are you, and why are you here?'