Zion

“You’re up early,” I whisper, picking him up as the sun barely leaks through the windows of the palace.

Right away small arms wrap around my frame, holding on tight as he rests his head upon my chest, closing his beautiful eyes. Eyes just like his father, a pair of golden brown that remind me of fall colors.

“Just keep him on your side,” Zion mumbles, his head flat in the pillow as the King looks aged, at least by two or three years, a thin beard from probably a few days unshaven, his hair a bit longer, and looking exhausted. “I’ll take him down in another forty minutes.”

Sitting up, I smile, kissing my son’s head as I look to Zion as he goes back into a deep slumber. “River, you will one day rule what your father rules,” I whisper, my son laying down upon my lap as the sunlight greets my face. “And you’ll be just as good of a king as he has been.”

My son stirs in my lap, looking up to me through his brunette locks, thick and silky like his father’s.

I smile. A genuine smile.

It’s a smile of pure happiness at its finest as I believe nothing could ever go wrong.

I guess that’s what dreams are for, that they envision your perfect moment that you search the world for.

I’m pulled from my dream, my body shooting upright as I see the room around me, the modern furniture, no windows, white walls, black marble flooring, my luggage against the wall.

Just three days ago did I meet King Oscar and move into the safe house. With over fifty guards and Zion’s arrival today, I’m feeling at the peak of my game. Today should and will be a good day.

Yet I’m still off. I feel as if something is off.

For the past dreams I’ve had, everyone of them reflects around a small boy, one with golden brown eyes, brown hair, and a smile like my own. He looks perfect. Some dreams he’s running up to me, wrapping his arms around my legs as his father kisses my forehead. Other dreams the boy is running around the floors of the palace, playing with Zion as I watch from a distance with a warm smile upon my face.

The child is my son, a piece of both Zion and me. The child is our son.

“Queen Sybil?”

The child is the next King.

“One second,” I call out, getting to my feet as I grab my white robe. Hauling myself from the comfort of my bed, I’m fast with my feet against the floor as I open the door. “Yes?”

Drexel stands there, his head cocked to the side. “It’s one.”

I’ve slept through the morning as usual. I stay awake all night as I think of Zion’s arrival. “Any news?”

“Alpha Penelope is to arrive within the hour, King Zion rumored to arrive before sunset.”

I nod, thanking Drexel as he recedes into the hall, leaving me all alone once again.

Getting dressed for the day, I’m soon out of my room, exploring the familiar house as King Oscar awaits me in the kitchen. For the days I’ve been here I’ve been told that the reason I was told to leave the palace was because someone was coming to visit.

But who?

Who was so dangerous to my well-being that Elijah pulled me from my bed and Penelope rushed me all the way into Switzerland? Who? Zion knows.

And Zion is who I plan on asking. Zion has the answers he is reluctant to give.

“King Oscar, how is the war?” I ask, grabbing a stool from the breakfast bar as I look out upon the snow-covered mountains. “Any word?”

“Your husband won another battle yesterday.” I already knew that one. “But besides that, no word. I’m sure when King Zion gets back here we will be given further information.”

He leaves, one of his men calling him out for a conference call. Once more In left to my thoughts as I watch the snow fall.

Just like Drexel said, within the hour Penelope is here, her car pulling up as I watch her hop out.

A white fur coat covers her up, a fur hat as well, her dark red hair pulled back into a thick braid, her boots barely sinking into the thick snow. She looks tired today, bags under her eyes, a thin cut upon her eyebrow, and a slight slump on her left leg.

Getting to my feet, I watch as men rush to search her, making sure she’s clean before they let her in.

And they lead her in through the garage, the door opening as I hear her familiar voice. At least someone I know has lived another day.

“Your husband is one fucking stubborn man,” are her first words, taking off her coat as I notice a bandage upon her right shoulder. “Those leeches set up a disrespectful poster and he practically charged them, killed every damn one, and then burned their bodies in a massive pile with their leader’s head upon a stick.”

“Was that really important information?” I ask, leaning back against the wall as Penelope takes a seat, undoing the wrap around her shoulder.

“I got shot with a silver bullet due to his stunt. I was down with that damn silver in me and he just fought like some mad man.”

“It’s war,” I mumble.

Penelope’s eyes harden. “You know nothing of war, Sybil, you’ve never fought.” My throat forms a lump. “I understand Zion would rather cut off his own dick than see you fight. He needs someone to run the country, yet you’re left with no way to defend yourself on your own.”

“Missed you too.”

She laughs, undoing the whole bandage as I see the nasty black and purple bruise. A hole in her shoulder, dried blood all around it, the bruise surrounding it as her shoulder is swollen to the max. “Just as a warning, your husband will have a bandage across his face, a simple one, nothing bad. Nothing like those who also fought. We lost two hundred men this week.”

The war has taken a toll on every pack. Hundred have died, and in return, hundreds of the enemy have been slaughtered.

“How much longer? Till the war comes to a close?”

Penelope shrugs her shoulders. “War is tricky. Though it looks as if the war will end within the month. Zion does not plan on total destruction but to at least wipe them out enough to make sure not another attack will occur for a while.”

Nodding my head, I watch as Penelope puts her bandage together, careful as she hisses with the pain. She’s one of the strongest Alphas in the world, her pack was not even respected before she came to power. She built herself an empire, married another, met her mate, married a human, destroyed her enemies, and earned the respect of practically every pack in the world.

“Enjoy the time we are given,” Penelope mumbles, her statement barely loud enough for me to hear. “Fate is a cruel bitch.”

Within another four hours I’m pulling my knees into my chest, looking out the window as the outside world looks still.

I was given word that Zion had loaded into the car, on his war.

With my nerves on overdrive and my heartbeat faster than I would like, I await my husband, the man that I love.

Car lights can be seen.

Immediately I hop to my feet, making sure the braid in my hair is neat, that my shirt has no wrinkles, and that I am presentable.

Taking in a deep breath, I hear the garage door open, the sleek car pulling under the garage. I take a seat on a stool by the breakfast bar, my feet shaking as I can hear the doors shut.

He’s back.

I can hear him talking, speaking of war as I try and keep calm.

“Where is Sybil?” He asks, a smile spreading across my face as he enters the kitchen.

Those eyes meet mine and I forget all control.

I jump, my legs wrapping around his waist as I hold him close, burring my face in his neck as I take in his scent.

He holds me just as tight, not dreaming of letting me go as I hear those who came in with him leave.

“I missed you so much,” I whisper, my eyes tearing up as I can feel Zion smile against my skin. “Goddess I hate being away from you.”

I pull back, meeting his gaze as pure love shows in his eyes. “And you have no idea how hard it is to fall asleep without you by my side,” Zion replies, those golden eyes scanning my face. And I do the same, looking at the three bandaids across his forehead and left eyebrow, the cut healing as In happy it is nothing more.

Pulling him in for a kiss, I feel fingers trace patterns upon his mark, my wolf getting excited. “Don’t leave. At least no yet. Leave after a day or so,” I plead, reconnecting our lips as Zion agrees.

Within the next ten minutes we are like that, in each other’s arms, listening to the silence of the house, thriving off of the solitude we have thirsted for together.

“Who was that? The night I was told to leave the palace?” I ask, peeling open my eyes as Zion shakes his head. “I want to know. Elijah and Penelope acted as if I would die-

Zion silences me with a single glance. “Don’t say that. Don’t say you could have died. I know the threats, Sybil,” he whispers, placing a soft kiss upon my forehead. “I made sure that person would not lay a hand upon you.”

“Who?” I ask, pulling from his grasp. “I want to know who wants me dead.”

Zion’s eyes meet mine and I know he will tell me. Taking my hands in his, Zion rests his forehead against my own.

“Nixon.”