Page 46 of His Found Lycan Luna

“Then you can go; I will come to find you when I’m done here,” he says, and I get up off his lap. “And Ivy.” I stop staring back at him.

“Make sure you check in with Clarice.”

“Yes, every half hour,” I finish for him, and he nods, allowing me to leave. I quickly escape, and head downstairs. Stepping outside, I sigh a breath of relief. Today it is pretty warm, and the sun feels nice on my cold skin. Peering around, Clarice is hanging the last sheet on the clothesline, however, Peter is nowhere to be found.

“Where did Peter go?” I ask her, and she jumps from not hearing me come up behind her.

“Gosh, My Queen, you gave me a fright,” she says, clutching her hand that holds two pegs to her chest.

“Sorry, is Peter around?” I ask.

“Down at the graveyard. Where is the king?” she asks, glancing around nervously. The entire castle is aware I am in lockdown and under strict guard, so it must have her worried seeing me without someone.

“He let me out, but I have to check in with you every half hour,” I tell her with a growl, she nods and sighs.

“Right, well, Peter is busy. Although, I’m sure he would love the company. Little shit tried to rope me into helping him,” she chuckles. I nod, making my way down to the graveyard.

Chapter Thirty-Five

It takes me a good few minutes to spot Peter kneeling behind a huge headstone. Wandering over to him, he peers up when my shadow is cast over him.

“Ivy, I mean, My Queen,” he says, baring his neck to me.

“Ivy is fine,” I tell him, and he lets out a breath.

“So can I help you with something?” he asks. I shrug, staring down at what he is doing. He is scrubbing and cleaning the headstones and removing the dead flowers.

“Want some help?” I ask.

He chews his lip before peering over the headstone and glancing at the castle. “Are you allowed?” he whispers, and I peer back over at the castle.

“Yes, I don’t see why not,” I shrug.

“Well, I am nearly done with this row. If you grab another bucket and brush, you’ll also need a polishing rag,” he says, showing me his tucked into his belt. Nodding, I turn and stride back toward the castle.

“In the laundry room, Ivy,” he calls, and I nod, going in search of the cleaning supplies.

Retrieving what I need, I earn a few strange stares from those working in the laundry, but they say nothing or question me as I slip back out with everything. I make my way back to Peter, who is in the next row. He stands up, coming closer to me.

“Where do you want me?” I ask him, and he looks around.

“Um, well, you could start in the middle. Those are pretty old though and require more scrubbing, or there is the servant’s cemetery over there,” he says, pointing closest to the forest and castle. “Or the hunters and rebels’ victims are the ones nearest the river.”

“Hunters and rebels’ victims?”

“Yes, most of those killed by rebel leaders Marissa and Darclay. Marissa was a rogue werewolf; she killed the king’s sister and that um, the royal family, they live, yeah I don’t know hours out that-away,” he says, pointing toward the forest. “Darclay, was the human head-hunter who recruited her,” Peter rambles on, yet I am still stuck at the mention of my mother’s name. Did Peter not know why the king kicked me out of the castle?

“How many are there?” I ask, gazing out at the spanning field of graves.

“From the hunters? Though most kills came from Marissa, she would pretend to be a servant and then kill everyone while they were sleeping. Most of those are from her, about 211 last time I counted,” he shrugs.

211!When I hear that all those lives have been lost, and my mother was behind it all, I become sick to my stomach. I have to steady myself to keep from fainting.

“Yep, she was the worst Lycan serial killer in history,” Peter says grimly.

“The king never got over it; he found his sister, and Marissa cut her unborn child out of her and mutilated him before stuffing him back in her womb. Well, that’s what I heard anyway from Trey; he is one of the guards,” he says, making me feel sick.

Peter then turns back to the grave he is cleaning and makes his way to the back. The firstgrave I come to belongs to a woman, kneeling, I set to work. When I finish hers, I move to the next and peer across the rows; the weight of what my mother did settles heavily on my shoulders.

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