Filed to story: My Kidnapper Is the Wolf King
“If both Alexander and Blake worship Night-” I say.
“Fenrir worshipped him, too. He made no claim to be doing otherwise. He was horrifying, and I committed many atrocities in his name. If I could go back and change things. . .” He shakes his head. “I thought he was dead. I didn’t realize that my allegiance would fall back to Alexander after he’d gone.” His expression darkens, and I get a rare glimpse of what my brother-the heir to the throne-would look like if he actually cared about ruling the kingdom. “The thing is, when Alexander died, something snapped then reformed. I felt him again. Fenrir. I think. . . I think he’s back. And if he’s back, Ingrid needs me.”
“Because you love her,” I say. Philip bites his cheek. When he doesn’t reply, I smile weakly. “Go to her. I’ve a feeling we will need an alliance with her in the coming months.”
Philip nods. An awkward silence hangs between us before Philip pulls me into an embrace. We have never hugged before, and I’m not sure what to do with my limbs. From the tension in his arms, I don’t think he quite knows what to do, either.
“I’m not sure we should attempt this again.” His words are muffled in my hair.
I pull back, the corners of my lips tugging upward, despite everything that has happened. “I’m not sure. Perhaps we’ll get better at it.”
He grins, then stands. “Be safe.”
“And you.”
He strolls to the door. “Good luck, little sister. Try not to get killed in my absence.” He winks before disappearing into the corridor. I wonder if I’ll ever see him again. The thought makes me strangely sad, considering out past.
And then I’m alone in the small room, with nothing to keep me company but the sound of the sea crashing onto the rocks somewhere below and the shadows that dance along the stone walls. Every time the window rattles, I flinch, and the memory of the whip, and Alexander, and the serpent made of darkness slams into me.
I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts right now.
I can feel him. Blake. The thread that links us feels tighter, stronger, somehow. I think, if I follow it, it will lead me to him.
Get your hands off my mate.
I slide out of bed. My legs are a little shaky, and the skin on my back tingles, but I’m surprisingly well, considering what happened. When I slide my hand down the back of my shirt, I feel the ridge of one of my old scars between my shoulder blades, but no fresh wounds.
My legs are bare, but brown breeches are folded up at the end of the bed. Blake must have left them for me. I slip them on, alongside a pair of boots left by the wall. I creep through the door.
The torches along the walls aren’t lit, and there are no windows. Darkness is thick on my skin, yet I can see the stairwell with sturdy black bannisters at the end of the corridor. I think it’s my wolf sight. I think I may have finally broken the cage that was keeping my wildness locked within.
I head toward the stairwell, then down the stairs. The entrance hall looks like it might have been magnificent, once-it’s large, with an arched iron door and a chandelier that creaks as it sways on the high ceiling. My footsteps echo as I stride across the hall.
On either side of me, streams of rainwater run down the walls and puddle on the black flagstones. The scent of seaweed is strong, and black algae almost entirely coats the anchor that has been attached to the wall above the door.
It’s bitingly cold, but the temperature doesn’t cause me the discomfort it usually would. I have a feeling that if I turn left, I’ll find my way to Blake in the dungeons. Something compels me to walk in the opposite direction, toward the door.
It screeches as I push it open, then I slip out into the night. I find myself in a bleak courtyard within high fortified walls. It’s raining heavily, and my clothes immediately stick to my body. Water rolls down my face, and I relish the feeling. It means I’m alive.
I head through tall iron gates, and I’m on the edge of a cliff with a path running down it. The waves crash against the rocks below. Ahead, there is nothing but perilous ocean.
It’s not until I look down that I realize why I came out here and what I had to see. There’s a circular stone building on an expanse of land that juts into the sea. One of the walls is crumbling. The amphitheater. The place where I thought I would die. The place where I finally let go and decided to fight.
A part of me wants to clamber down the path, cut through the rock, and make sure the serpent, the cloaked men, and Alexander are really gone. As I look, though, I notice thick smoke, darker than the night, pluming from its roof. A gust of wind brings the scent of fire and rancid burning meat.
“Oh, fuck off, James!” An irritated female voice is carried by the wind, along with the sound of boots thudding over wet stone. I turn to the path. “What do you want me to say? Am I supposed to thank you for coming to die with me?”
“Aye. That would be a start, you ungrateful-” The roar of the sea drowns out whatever insult James hurls at Claire. “I saved your life.”
“That’s what you were doing when you were chained and on your knees, was it? Aurora saved my life, you eejit. You did your usual fuck all.”
“Aye? Well you saved my life, Claire. That acolyte was about to decapitate me. Remember that? Scared you were going to lose me?”
“Please. I was killing a southerner. It had nothing to do with you.”
James laughs. “Keep telling yourself that, lass. You-“
He strides onto the clifftop twenty feet or so away from me, and his head abruptly snaps in my direction. He’s wearing a drenched black shirt that clings to his muscles, and his kilt is stained with blood. He carries a torch and the flame struggles to stay lit as it fights the elements. Ash and grime coats his face, and my nose twitches at the odor of death that clings to him.
Claire clambers up beside him a moment later, slightly breathless. “Move, will you?” She barges into his shoulder. “Do you want to stop in a more inconvenient-“
Her mouth shuts as she follows James’s gaze. Her hair clings to her cheeks, and she’s just as grimy as James. There’s a dying torch in one of her hands, too. She dips her head in my direction, then walks toward the tall iron gates behind me. “I’m done. I’m going to see if that southern bastard has any decent whisky in this shithole of a castle. Unlikely.”
“Aye. I’ll be with you in a minute,” says James. He doesn’t move his eyes away from me.
“That wasn’t an invitation.” Claire disappears into the courtyard, and James shakes his head as he strolls toward me.
I straighten. I can’t tell whether or not he’s a threat. He’s my enemy, yet the memory of him falling to his knees before me flashes through my mind. He’s not looking at me with deference now. There’s more of a wry amusement in his eyes.
“Look who’s awake. I’m surprised you’re out here, alone,” he says. He stands beside me, and nods at the amphitheater in the distance. “We burned it. Blake insisted. He’s always struggled with his wolf, and whatever you did to him in there. . . well, he’s been pretty intolerable since. Did my brother ever tell you about resource guarding?”
Wolves guard things of value to them.
Blake told me that. “What do you want, James?”
He releases a dark chuckle, then swipes a hand over his stubble. “Simple things, I assure you. The same thing I wanted when I was in the kennels down there. To be drunk, warm, and well fucked. You’ve nothing to fear from me, lass. We may be enemies, but you’ve got the blood of my goddess in your veins. I won’t hurt you. If my people discover who you are. . .” He shakes his head, and strands of brown hair stick to his cheeks. “My kingdom will tear itself apart to gain possession of you. I’ll keep my mouth shut. You have my word.”
Some of the tension inside me uncoils. James may not be as honorable as Callum, yet I believe him. He tried to help me in the amphitheater, even before he knew what I was. I have a feeling that there may be some good in him, buried deep.
James shrugs a big shoulder. “I know you found the idea of marriage to me abhorrent-“
“I find almost everything about you abhorrent.”
“Almost? Are you warming to me, Princess?”
“No. You’re not going to suggest we wed again, are you?”
He rolls his eyes. “That ship has long sailed away. Aye, you’re bonny enough, but I only asked you before to piss off the Southlands, and because I knew Blake was up to something. You should be in the north, with the Wolves. With my brother. His honor won’t let him marry another wolf’s mate, but still, a marriage alliance with Callum would be sensible. I hate to say it, but with all this talk of Night lately, I think something worse may be coming. We may need to unite the kingdoms to defeat this threat.”
“No,” I say.
James arches an eyebrow. “Don’t be stubborn. I know things are complicated between the two of you, but-“
“For our kingdoms to be united in marriage, my father would have to agree. He is ruler, not me.” I shake my head. “Even if he was willing to work with the people he has oppressed and killed, even if Callum could be persuaded to join forces with a monster, I will not be presented to the Wolves as a political pawn.”
My spine is like a rod as something wild and thorny jolts through me. I’m not sure why I’m telling James this, of all people, yet I feel like he’ll understand.
“My father has ruled for long enough,” I say over the roar of the waves. “He is not fit to be king. Philip has no designs on the throne, and with him in the Snowlands, there is only one heir left. With my father out of the way, the throne will fall to me. Maybe we need to bring the kingdoms together, but I won’t come to Callum as the princess of nothing, with no power or influence, and ask for an alliance. I will come to him as his equal. I will come to him as the queen.”
James’s eyes glint in the darkness. “I was planning on heading back to Highfell to challenge whoever the new alpha is, but if you need some help killing southerners, I think I’m long overdue a visit to your father.”
I assess him. Ruthless, with big powerful muscles and experience of ruling a kingdom. With me, he could shift at will, too. I don’t like him, but maybe he could be useful. It’s not as if I have many allies, so perhaps enemies with shared interests will have to do. “Hm. Perhaps.”
He releases a dark chuckle. “You really are warming to me.”
I open my mouth to refute his claim.
“Oi! Thanks for waiting!” Ryan shouts. He’s climbing up the steep rocky path toward us, his copper-colored hair plastered to his skull. His face breaks into a grin when he sees me. “Princess! How are you-“
His face pales. At the same time, the velvety scent of the forest caresses my senses, and that thread that’s coiled around my soul tightens. Ryan dips his head and scurries past James and me toward the Grey Keep. James shakes his head, amusement tickling his lips.
I turn around. Blake stands between us and the iron gates of the keep. The rain plasters his black shirt to his body, and the wind ruffles his hair. His eyes find mine, and that thread between us hums. At once, I’m falling and frozen.
Slipping his hands into his pocket, he walks toward us.
“Excellent plan, little rabbit,” he says, and I realize he was listening in on our conversation. A dimple punctures his cheek. “Would you like my help?”