Filed to story: My Kidnapper Is the Wolf King
“Then you must think highly of me for sparing my brother’s life.”
My spine is a rod. “Callum is stronger than you. He won the challenge and showed you mercy. Just as he would have won the challenge between the two of you years ago, if he had not let you win.”
A muscle flexes in his jaw now, as if I’ve gotten beneath his skin, too. “No. I’m the dominant wolf. That’s always been the case. But I love my brother. I didn’t want to kill him for the sake of a southerner. Now, you have torn my kingdom apart.”
My fingers curl into fists. “You did that. Not me. I never did anything to provoke such ill feeling from you. I was never your enemy. That morning we met, I offered to help you and your kingdom. If you had kept your word, if you hadn’t sold me out to Sebastian, if you hadn’t attacked me, none of this would have happened!”
James growls. “You are wrong, Princess. You are my enemy. Your blood is my enemy’s blood. Your people are my enemy people. Since the time of the Elderwolf, you have ravaged our lands and taken from us. You have brought us war, and you tried to rule us, when all we ever wanted was peace. The moment I first laid eyes on you and smelt my brother all over you, I knew you were trouble. What did you expect me to do? Let you live? I knew it was only a matter of time before you left Callum and took our secrets to your people. You would have doomed us all.”
“You doomed yourself, you pig-headed fool! I did not intend on spilling your secrets to my father. I did not intend on leaving Callum.”
“Yet here you are, and where is he?” His raised voice echoes around the dungeons before he shakes his head. “It’s not your father I worry about. I scented Blake on you, too, that morning, and I knew exactly what it meant. Two southerners-one a half-wolf from the Borderlands who became alpha of one of the most feared clans in the Northlands, schemed his way onto my father’s council, and blatantly had designs on my throne, and the other the daughter of our enemy king. That, I thought, is not an alliance I want to contend with.”
“I have no alliance with Blake.”
“Of course you don’t. . .” He runs a hand over his jaw. “I showed my brother mercy. I did not kill him, even though I could have. But I made sure he saw what I did. I made sure he’d read the book I found in Blake’s chambers. Because I needed both of you out of Madadh-allaidh before you created any lasting damage, so that my brother could fight the war that your people started.”
“I’m glad you got what you wanted,” I spit.
“You think this is what I wanted?” He shakes his head. “I want to be drunk and warm with a lass in my bed. Thanks to you, I’m here. You were a threat to me then, Princess. You’re a threat to me-“
The torches that line the wall flicker and dim, one by one, and James shuts his mouth. The shadows thicken and I feel them-cold and restless-writhing like snakes over my body. A low rasping hiss travels down the corridor, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I think about the bit of shed skin that Blake picked up when we found ourselves in Night’s prison.
A hole is carved in my chest, and the darkness slithers up through my nostrils. That wild thing, deep within my soul, tries to break free.
I can’t afford to lose consciousness. Not here. Not now. I clench my fists. I dig my nails into my palms, drawing blood. I barely notice James’s grunt on one side of me and Claire’s body stiffening on the other.
The sound stops. The torches flicker back to life. I let out the darkness on a long breath that mists before my face. I turn to Claire.
“What was that?” I breathe, but I think I already know.
“We call it the Dark Beast,” says Claire.
“Night’s prisoner,” I whisper in horror.
James runs a hand along his jaw. “It’s what we’ve been brought here to fight.”
Chapter Three
There are three tall arched windows in the wall on one side of the council chambers, and mountains that are shades of orange and brown are visible through them. Torches in black iron sconces flicker between the windows, and a fire burns low in the curved stone hearth. The space is dominated by a large, oval table, and four men are standing around it. They all look at me as I walk inside.
Blake is at the head of the table with his hands flat on the surface. He leans forward. His white sleeves are rolled up, exposing corded forearms and the beginning of the scar on his elbow, which he must have got when he was bitten. Not for the first time, I find myself curious as to how he was turned into a wolf.
Callum’s expression softens when his gaze locks onto mine. “Rory, what are you doing here?”
“I invited her.” Blake’s gaze brushes over the large shirt I wear, which belongs to him. “You’re looking dashing today, little rabbit.”
I offer him a clipped smile, because I’m sure he’s trying to provoke me. “Thank you.”
A male with dreadlocks and tattoos winding up the dark skin of his arms smirks. Jack, I think his name is. I saw him in the dungeons when Blake kidnapped me and tried to get me to marry James. My displeasure grows.
The fourth male in the room, I’ve not been acquainted with. He is as large in build as Callum, with short black hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His arms are folded across his chest, emphasizing biceps that strain against a black shirt. He wears an eye patch over his left eye, and faint scars crisscross his throat. Recognition jolts through me, though I cannot imagine where I would have met such a man.
“Please, come in,” says Blake. “We were just talking about you.”
I walk toward the table. “I heard,” I say. “What were you discussing?” I don’t like the idea that four men were talking about me, without me being present.
“You should be resting,” Callum whispers, with a note of reprimand. “Did you not read my note? You’ve had a high fever for three days.”
Three days?
Callum is about to go to war with his brother, and I’ve been bedridden for three whole days. Questions pound through my already thumping head as I wonder what I must have missed.
“I couldn’t bear to be trapped in that room any longer,” I reply quietly. “I feel much better now.”
“Hm.”
Up close, Callum looks like he’s barely slept. Stubble peppers his jaw, and there are smudges beneath his eyes. His usual scent of the mountains is overlaid by male sweat, as if he’s not been washing. I put my arm around his waist and squeeze.
On top of everything that has happened with his brother, he’s had to worry about me.
The woman who brought me here huffs in the doorway.
“Will you be joining us, Elsie?” asks Blake.
“No.” Elsie offers no deference to the male who I’m guessing is her alpha. She heads into the corridor, and her skirts make a rustling sound as they drag across the flagstones. The door swings shut behind her.
I breathe in quickly when I feel a sharp squeeze of emotion in my chest. It’s coming from Blake, and it disappears so quickly I might have imagined it. I’ve not gotten used to the strange link between us yet, forced onto me by Blake. It feels like there’s a thread of shadow in my chest that is wrapped around my soul. When he feels something, it seems to spread and tighten. I try to figure out what he’s feeling. Yearning, I think. I wonder who this woman is, to him.
The burly male I haven’t met before suppresses a chuckle.
“Has something amused you, Arran?” asks Blake, a slight edge to his silky tone.
“No.” Arran’s voice sounds a little hoarse, as if he doesn’t use it much. He doesn’t sound sincere. He leans closer to his alpha, whispers something in his ear, and Blake nods.
Arran strides away from the table, past Callum and me, and heads out after Elsie. He glances at me once over his shoulder, and again, I get that jolt of familiarity. The door swings shut behind him.
“As I was saying,” says Blake, “I want Lochlan and some of his clan to come to Lowfell for Oidhche Fhada.”
Callum’s hold on me tightens almost imperceptibly. “And as
Iwas saying, that’s not a good idea.”
“What is Oidhche Fhada?” My mouth stumbles on the unfamiliar words.
“It’s a wolf ritual that will take place next week,” says Callum. “We believe Oidhche-or the Night God, as you call him in the Southlands-has a prison in the sky in which he keeps
Ghealach
-the Moon Goddess-prisoner.”
“I remember,” I say.
“Oidhche moves her into a different cell each night, so she can never be found by those who seek her. On the night of the full moon, that is when she’s closest to us. Once, though, every two and a half years, he moves her so deep inside his prison that her light cannot touch the earth. For a few moments, the world is cast into darkness. That is when we perform Oidhche Fhada.”
I think he’s talking about the lunar eclipse. We have a festival to mark it in the Southlands, where we light bonfires to honor the Sun Goddess, and cast away the darkness.
“And you don’t wish to perform it this time?” I ask.
“It’s not the ritual I object to, but the alpha Blake wishes to invite. Lochlan Christensen is the alpha of Glas-Cladach, and we cannot trust him.”
There’s a map of the Northlands on the table, and Blake taps part of the coastline. “Lochlan has the second biggest army in the Northlands, and we have a mutual enemy.”
“James?” I ask.
Blake inclines his head. “I wish to persuade him to join our cause. If we want to move effectively against James, we’re best doing it while he’s licking his wounds after the battle with