A promise had been made, many months ago, when the former ruler of Dahlia de Mai had been cast out by his own kin. There was purpose in Larkspur not following the madman. He had done his duty, and he had tried to do so well, to spread his work not only to one child but too many. The boy was finally showing progress. Though he doubted her conviction, promise lingered in the black and white girl-child. Larkspur regretted having not made his purpose known sooner—if he had, King might not have left so soon. He no longer had a reason to hide before a child-king.
Low and wicked chuckles escaped his throat. “Believe that an’ see what happens.” He believed the coyotes would never stop harboring their hatred for the pack. Haku had seen to that when he burnt their territory and slaughtered their kind long after he no longer wore a crown. A condescending sneer appeared on his face, turning it cruel. He had learned this from the Khalif. “Y’put yer faith in this pack, an’ what d’ya have? Women an’ children. Yer weak because y’can’t stand on yer own.”
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