The First Queen: A Shifter Romance

by K. M. Carnoky

  “I don't know why you are my mate. In werewolf culture, there is a woman, the moon goddess, and she supposedly decides who is mated to whom. Regardless of whether the myth is true or not, werewolves usually have someone in their life that they have a very strong attraction to. It's almost impossible to not be with your mate once you meet them. Many wolves have even gone insane because they've been kept from their mates. And even if you're just separated for a short time, you can feel sick or nervous.”

  “That sounds terrible,” I whispered. Dread filled my stomach as I remembered the only information I had. This was the awful spell that the book talked about.

  “It can be. But mate bonds can also make someone love their partner unconditionally. It's a very strong emotional attachment, and it comes with all of the obvious benefits. You are always drawn to your mate; you always want to make sure they are happy and healthy. And seeing them happy . . . there's nothing better in the world.” He sighed softly. In that moment, his dark brown eyes looked so kind and gentle, like he wasn't the same man who had bitten me the first time.

  “As for completing our marriage, it's a little more than either one of us being naked. I know that you probably never learned about sex, seeing as you didn't have anyone to tell you about it, but you don't have to worry about it. We will complete our marriage when you are ready. And I promise we will take all the time you need.”

  “But you said your first wife wasn't your mate,” I pointed out, trying to cover up my embarrassment. I felt like a simple child who couldn't understand basic words. How could I be married but not know how to complete the marriage?

  “That's right. She wasn't. I didn't think I had a mate. My mother is a werewolf, my father is human. Being a mix means that there is no real guarantee of having a mate. Everyone thought that it was time for me to become king and that meant I had to get married. I just gave up and settled for what I thought was best. It turned out to be one of the biggest mistakes of my life.”

  “What is ‘marking’?”

  He slowly let go of my hand and reached up, brushing the hair off my neck to expose the healing wound. It was mostly a pink scar at this point. I expected him to look disgusted or ashamed of himself, but instead, he was grinning when he looked at it.

  “A mark is a part of the mating process. It binds us together more closely, but it also signals to other werewolves that you are mated and happily so, because if you didn't want to be with me, your body would've rejected this mark too, and other men would simply think you weren't taken yet,” he explained.

  “Why did you mark me out of anger if it's such an emotional experience? And why were you so awful to me when I first met you if I was so important to your well-being?”

  King Archer’s eyes darted away for a moment then. I watched as he frowned, his expression darkening, but it wasn’t with anger. It was with sadness.

  “I was scared. I was absolutely terrified when I first met you. I had already told myself I didn't have a mate, and I had grown very comfortable with that idea. I was just looking for another wife, one that would cause me less grief; one that wouldn’t run away and make me publicly announce that I was a failure again. And there you were. But I knew that you were human by your scent which only made things worse. I didn't know if you would be attracted to me the same way I was attracted to you or if you would feel anything at all towards me. I panicked, but I knew I had to have you, so I bought you from your owner and forced you to sign the contract so you wouldn't be able to leave for a long time. It was foolish and so demeaning. I see that now, but I was so frightened, Willow. As for the marking, I knew another man had been in your bedroom that night with you. It sent me into a jealous frenzy. All I wanted to do in that moment was make you mine and make sure that everyone knew that you wanted me just as much as I wanted you. But then your body rejected the mark.” He propped his elbows on his knees and put his face in his hands, covering up his embarrassment and grief. “When I heard you scream, I feared you were going to die in my arms, and I would've done anything in that moment to take it back. Even now that you've accepted me, I would still do anything to take back my previous actions. You have to believe me.”

  I bit my lower lip hard, not sure what to say. We never had such an emotional discussion. It was wonderful to hear him say all these things—to finally confess all of the secrets he had been harboring.

  But he had still hurt me.

  “Let me make it up to you then,” the king pleaded, watching me closely. “Let me be a good husband for once.”

  I had no idea what he had in mind, but I couldn’t fight the smile that tugged at my lips, and my head dipped in a slight nod.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  King Archer was true to his word which I found a little surprising. I had convinced myself that he had thrown kind words at me to keep me passive, but I was able to see the effort it took to make his promise a reality. It took a couple of days, but he eventually managed to clear his schedule for a few hours. And on a bright and sunny afternoon, I found myself in the barn with him, preparing for our excursion.

  “No,” King Archer snapped. It was the first word that came out of his mouth when he saw me.

  I rolled my eyes, already thinking that this wasn’t a particularly good start for him. He could at least pretend to be slightly apologetic and forgiving. Or maybe he could even try being less demanding just for one afternoon. After all, he was the one trying to make up for bad behavior.

  “I’ll make you a deal, King Archer,” I bargained, but my voice was sharp and calculated. The way he gazed at me told me he heard the battle that was coming long before it left my lips. “I will go back to the palace and change into a dress if you also change into a dress and ride sidesaddle with me.”

  His mouth opened and shut several times. I could almost hear the words he wanted to say. He was going to tell me that wearing men’s trousers was not acceptable, and I was a queen. He would tell me that people would think less of me or that it could be outright dangerous if we got separated. We both knew the threats. We both knew it was improper. Unfortunately for him, I was ready for one hell of a fight.

  But his wide shoulders slowly slumped and his mouth closed, and he turned away from me. It seemed that my strange dressing habits would wait until he wasn’t actively seeking my forgiveness.

  With my victory tucked in my back pocket, I led Jester out of his stall. As I worked brushes over his coat and cooed at him, I would catch the king glancing at me. Sometimes, it was in brief flashes, like he was worried he would be caught; other times, he would blatantly stop working on Cleopatra and stare for a moment. When I turn to face him, he would twist away, but I would always see the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

  Ten minutes later, I had my horse groomed and saddled. After I had led Jester outside, I struggled to mount. Apparently, I hadn’t ridden in a while and my muscles had lost enough flexibility which made the act a little tougher than it should’ve been. Something I had done for years now seemed impossible. My cheeks turned red with embarrassment as I struggled and failed to mount once more. Here I was, about to go riding with the king, and I couldn’t even get on my own damn horse.

  “Let me give you a leg up,” King Archer suggested.

  “I’m fine,” I grunted.

  “I see that.” He laughed, his eyes teasing but good-naturedly.

  I rolled my eyes, but he either didn’t care or didn’t see it as he positioned himself behind me. I jolted when his hands grasped my hips. It seemed that I had forgotten how good his touch felt, and every time he touched my body, it all rushed back to me in a wild whirlwind. I nearly shivered in delight but repressed it as best as I could until I felt his mouth brush against my jaw. Then I couldn’t stop my knees from weakening.

  “Is it wrong of me to think that you look just as lovely in men’s clothes?” he whispered.

  Then his hands slid down my hips. I swear he let out a low groan, but I couldn’t be certain. After he crouched down and his hands de
scended further, he cupped my left thigh and progressed until he was supporting my left ankle in both of his hands.

  “Ready?”

  My grip on the saddle and the reins was tight already.

  “Yes.”

  Two bounces for momentum then he boosted me up into the saddle like I weighed nothing. Part of me was impressed by his strength and another part—the more bottled-up part—began to think about all the ways that strength could be used. As I gathered my reins and the king mounted Cleopatra—without assistance—I saw a guard watching us as he casually dawdled over.

  “Good afternoon, my King,” the guard murmured. I noticed immediately the sharp blue eyes that seemed to miss nothing and the heavy medals that decorated his chest.

  “Good afternoon,” King Archer acknowledged, reining in his beast that stamped with impatience.

  “Would you like me to accompany you on your ride?” he asked.

  The king shook his head. “I would much prefer if my right hand guard was here in my absence.”

  “Very well. Have a good ride.” The guard bowed out gracefully and began making his way to the palace as we started our ride. He didn’t even spare me a glance over his shoulder.

  At first, I was delighted with the ride. I was comfortable in the saddle and Jester seemed content enough, his ears flickering around and paying no attention to Cleopatra’s antics. There was a clear path heading into the forest, obviously a well-traveled area, but I had yet to discover this part of the royal lands as I spent a fair amount of my time inside. For the first ten minutes, my head swiveled around, impressed with the blooming bushes and the trees that created a thick canopy overhead. Being out in the wilderness reminded me a little of the farm. The fresh air, the sunlight, very little expectations and rules. It was a lovely state to be in, even just for a short while.

  Then Cleopatra’s rear end swung towards me, pinning my leg against Jester, and his ear went flat against his head.

  “Sorry,” King Archer grunted, steering the mare away from me. “I can’t remember the last time I took her on a slow ride like this, and apparently, she can’t either. She’s used to more intense rides and minding her manners less.”

  With his space returned, Jester calmed right down and continued to plod along. I had nearly no hold on the reins. He was able to identify the path and follow it without much guidance. He was just here to enjoy the sights and smells he couldn’t find in his own pasture and stall. Cleopatra was clearly much more of a sport horse, her body filled with too much energy to be contained to such a boring excursion.

  “She’s not a very good match for Jester,” I pointed out.

  His brown eyes flashed towards me, and there was something I couldn’t read in the king’s expression. But I still met his gaze evenly. I was more than willing to hold him accountable for each mistake he made today. Maybe I was still angrier than I gave myself credit for, but it felt good to have the upper hand for once. He had to please me.

  “Keep riding. I’ll meet you up the trail in about twenty minutes,” he replied. Then with some rather impressive rein and leg signals, he spun Cleopatra around on her haunches. Using very slight pressure, he sent her into a full gallop, heading back towards the palace.

  Truth be told, I was a little bitter about the interaction, though I knew it was unfair. Yes, he had made some effort to be with me today, and I appreciated it immensely, especially when I saw how many people he had to direct around just to free up a couple hours for himself. But he couldn’t have picked a less antsy horse? There was no one in the barn that would’ve matched Jester’s physical abilities or at least his temperament? It seemed unlikely. Luckily, Jester brought me an impressive amount of joy regardless of the situation, and I couldn’t deny that this outing was truly a kind gesture by the king. One he certainly was not required to do.

  And after the bitterness faded, I was left with a mix of wonder and awe. It came slowly, then all at once it swept me away. This was mine. This forest. This horse. It was all mine. True, it was only through King Archer that I was able to claim any of it, but it was still amazing nonetheless. I had never dreamed of really owning anything. I was a slave; I had nothing to my name. How was I supposed to purchase anything? But here I was, sitting atop my oldest companion, wandering through woods that were mine, and with the wave of a hand, I could demand that someone forfeit their horse for me instead. It was a peculiar turn of events, far beyond my wildest dreams. And it was all thanks to the king and the mysterious mate bond.

  The heavy sound of hooves pounding the Earth filled the air, and a few seconds later, Cleopatra was pulled up beside me. The mare was still held tightly, clearly all of her energy was not yet gone, but her nostrils were flared. Sweat was showing on her sides. I wasn’t sure what he had done, but he had pushed her hard, and she seemed to have enjoyed it.

  “Sorry,” King Archer whispered, almost like he was embarrassed.

  “It’s alright. I imagine that plodding alongside an old horse isn’t very exciting for either of you.”

  A lazy smile touched his lips. “Come on, there’s a nice clearing on our right.”

  ***

  Calling the space a good spot seemed like an understatement. A slow moving stream provided a very relaxing background noise. We both dismounted under a large apple tree. The smell of distant blooms and fresh grass filled the air as bees bumbled by idly. And from the shade, we could see through a small gap in the trees a view of the palace. It felt magical, like a fairytale. He was the king and I was his queen, and together, we ruled over a regal land. When it became too much, we would run away to reconnect. But I was hardly a queen, and he was only here to undo the wrongs he had previously done.

  As I cooed endlessly at Jester and made sure none of the tack had rubbed him wrong, King Archer laid down a small blanket. After I had finished with my beast, I saw that the king had arranged a rather impressive picnic for the two of us.

  “Oh, wow,” I whispered.

  “Come,” King Archer ordered, then caught himself. “Please.”

  Even if I was still furious or resentful, I would’ve complied. The moment seemed too charming to pass up, and the food looked beyond delicious. I might’ve put the king on thin ice, but I was not going to go hungry.

  “Tell me about you,” King Archer urged as I began gobbling up the food. He had a piece of bread in his hand, but his focus was on me. At the very least, he didn’t seem disgusted by the way I was scarfing down the meal.

  “What would you like to know?”

  “Anything.”

  “That’s quite broad,” I answered warily, thinking about all of my past that I would prefer to keep secret. How many gruesome stories would it take to get the king to swear off me forever?

  “Then tell me about Jester. Why were you so adamant that he had to come with you?”

  “Well, he was the one animal that I knew wouldn’t be slaughtered, at least while he was functional, so I bonded with him. Plus, he liked my attention. I would brush him for hours, and he always loved it, while the other animals got annoyed. Besides, when I had first . . . arrived at the farm, I began bonding with all of the creatures. I loved them all so dearly. Then, Edna got eaten, and I vowed I would not do such a thing again because the pain was beyond what I expected.”

  “Edna?”

  “My first chicken,” I answered, then my cheeks flamed red. “You must think I’m a fool.”

  “I think you’re compassionate,” he corrected. “Now, tell me more. What makes you the happiest? Stitching? Reading?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I’m terrible at stitching. I’m truthfully surprised my fingers haven’t gone numb with the amount of times they’ve been pricked. Reading is lovely, but I’m not much good at it yet. There are all these rules about how words sound and what they mean. It’s all very confusing, and I don’t understand it yet. I think what I love best is gardening. It has always come so naturally.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh yes. I’m very good at it. O
r I used to be. I would grow these incredible flowers, and they would be sold at the local market. I don’t think any other girl could grow them in my village. I was quite proud of them and I think they pulled a fair price as well.”

  I hadn’t noticed it, too lost in my own words, but Archer had been inching closer and closer to me with each sentence. And now he was grasping my hand in his, the food forgotten.

  “Tell me about you,” I encouraged, attempting to ease the focus on me.

  “Not much to tell,” Archer murmured, his hands stroking and touching my fingers. It was a small space to explore so intensely, but it was a safe place to touch, and we both knew it. “I was born to be a king. I was raised to follow all kinds of rules and structure and useless mannerisms that all kings must know. Now, I am a king.”

  “That doesn’t sound nearly as exciting as it should be.”

  “It’s not an exciting life. In fact, it was painfully boring until I met you.”

  “My God. I’m not exciting,” I scoffed.

  “Aren’t you?” the king countered, squeezing my hand. “Before you came along, I had never been defied so rudely and challenged so often. I never had to really think about the complex world that I was a part of, one of werewolves and royals, until I had to try and reason with you about all of it. You made me look at my own life differently, and you constantly disobeyed me. But no one has ever made me feel like you have,” he breathed.

  Those brown eyes met mine, and I could see more of the king than I ever had before. He was soft now. Unguarded. The walls he surrounded himself with were down. He was telling me exactly what he was thinking, not lying for the sake of my feelings or attempting to impress or intimidate me. In fact, I knew he was being authentic because I could see something I had never seen before.