Page 11 of Crowned By The Blood Alphas

I nearly faint. The river? With everyone else? He can’t be serious…

My stomach drops as I turn to Garrick.

“Garrick…” I whisper. “Please…”

He steps forward and swallows me in his big comforting arms. “You’ll be okay, Princess,” he whispers. “I’ve never met anyone as strong and spirited as you.”

“Are you leaving?” I ask, feeling panic taking over. “Already?”

He looks sad to see me go with his lowered shoulders and downturned face. “I’m afraid so, Princess. It’s been my honor looking after you all these years.”

He drops to his knee and bows to me one last time. As soon as he stands, I leap on him, wrapping my arms around him in a hug I never want to release.

“Be strong,” Garrick whispers, peeling my arms off him. “Make your parents proud. Make Aurevale proud.”

I fight back tears and stand up straight, nodding to the man who’s kept me safe my entire life. “I will.”

He nods sadly and gets back to the wagons as Oren guides me to the large doors.

The wolf guards are unloading the chests full of my possessions, and being unnecessarily rough with them. I bite my tongue when I see one ruffian toss my chest of dresses onto the ground. A young boy leads my horse away. I hope it’s toward the stables and not toward the kitchen.

My sadness and panic turn to impatience and anger. I’m suddenly realizing how bad my situation is and I’m not happy about it.

“Do the Kings of Varkhar not present themselves when a royal arrives?” I ask, barely able to hide the venom in my tone as we walk. What kind of manners do these barbarians have?

“Excuse me, Princess,” Oren says with an overly friendly smile, which I’m picking up as sarcasm. “They are very busy protecting our kingdom, and yours, from the Hollowborn.”

“Of course,” I say, swallowing my pride and indignation. “Perhaps I shall meet them later.”

“Perhaps,” he says, guiding the way.

I feel eyes on me from above and that’s when I see them standing on the platform up high.

The Blood Alphas.

The Kings of Varkhar.

I shiver when I feel their strong gaze bearing down on me. My feet stop moving. My entire body goes still as I stare up at them in awe.

I have spent the whole journey imagining the Blood Alphas.

I pictured elderly tyrants with rotting teeth and greasy beards.

Then I pictured cruel warriors covered in scars, bones, and the blood of their enemies.

Once, when I briefly allowed myself to be optimistic, I imagined that perhaps they might be reasonably pleasant to look at.

I was not prepared for this.

The king on the left is tall and broad, although not nearly as enormous as the man beside him. His thick black hair is pushed back from a handsome face sharpened by high cheekbones and a strong jaw covered with a neatly trimmed beard. He wears a fitted black tunic embroidered with dark silver thread, leather pants, and a golden crown tilted on his beautiful head.

His dark heated eyes are locked on me. Goosebumps rise on my skin when I feel the sizzling intensity of that gaze.

That must be King Cassius.

I’ve heard he’s the smartest man in the kingdom. A true strategic genius.

He has the kind of confident ease of a man who knows he owns everything his eyes touch.