Filed to story: My Kidnapper Is the Wolf King
He raises his eyebrows, and I smile-remembering how cold the water was when I washed at Glen Marb. From the grin on his face, I think he is remembering it too.
He sighs, his breath misting in front of his face.
“We should go.”
He brushes his lips against my forehead, and my hands reflexively move to chest, my fingers gripping his shirt. He’s so firm and solid beneath it and I want to take comfort in that strength-to take comfort in him. His hands momentarily tighten around my hips.
Heat flares inside me, despite the words he mumbles against my skin. “It’s time to meet the Wolf King.”
Chapter Forty-Six
The castle corridors outside Callum’s chambers seem colder, the shadows longer. The torches on the wall flicker as we pass, as if possessed by the same nervous energy that builds in my stomach.
When I descended the kennel steps that night in Sebastian’s castle, I felt as if I was walking into the jaws of a great beast.
Now, it has swallowed me.
When I meet with the Wolf King, I will find out whether it is to chew me up and spit me back out again.
Or worse.
Callum walks by my side, his hand pressed against the small of my back. The warmth he radiates is of little comfort. Not when he is uncharacteristically quiet. His heavy footsteps echo off the stone walls, steady and slow, as though he is delaying the inevitable.
As we reach the stairwell, loud voices pierce the gloom from the lower floors of the castle. Some agitated, some excitable, some tainted with anger. It reminds me of the noise one hears on the day of an execution in the King’s City.
Perhaps there will be an execution today.
And yet, all I can think about is the dress I am wearing. It’s white and long-sleeved.
The perfect doll-that is what Blake said I looked like.
I’ve had little choice over so many things in my life-who I’d marry, where I’d live, what my purpose should be. But my clothing-the way I present myself-that was a choice I always had.
And I was good at it. My dresses were disguises, my make-up a mask. I could choose to blend into the background of a meal in the Great Hall, or be the focal point in a grand ball.
I had that choice this morning. I thought I had made the correct one, and yet Blake has gotten under my skin.
Should I have chosen differently?
“Does the Wolf King have a wife?” I ask as we make our way down the stairwell.
“Hm? No.”
“What kind of women does he like?”
Callum’s eyebrow cocks up, as if he’s surprised by the question. “I don’t know. Bonny lasses, I suppose.”
I sigh. “His last lover, who was she?”
“That’d be Claire.” He lets out a half-laugh. “She was a fiery one. Kept him on his toes, that’s for sure.”
Blake’s words come back to me.
James likes his women bold.
He was telling the truth.
I halt on the bottom step. “Goddess, Callum!”
Callum’s eyebrows knit together. “What’s the matter?”
My heart pounds against my ribcage as my mind reels with choices. I glance at the door ahead, knowing the corridor behind it leads to the Great Hall where I will meet my fate. I look over my shoulder at the stairway.
I take a deep breath. “I need to change my dress.”
“Rory-” Callum’s tone is a warning, but I’ve already turned around. I run back up the stairs, almost tripping over my skirts. Callum is close behind me. “We don’t have time for this!”
I run into his chambers and close the door in his face. “Send someone in to help me.”
I hear him slam his hand against the wall outside, then curse under his breath. “It’s just a dress.” His tone is pointedly even-as though he’s trying to reason with a petulant child. “It doesn’t matter-“
“Send someone to help me!”
“Goddess, give me strength,” he growls. “Fine. But if you’re not out in five minutes, I’ll throw you over my shoulder and take you down to the Great Hall regardless of what you are, or are not, wearing!”
***
Ten minutes later, I step back into the corridor donning the black dress. It is strange, but after a couple of weeks of wearing clothes that make me fit in, I feel more myself, wearing it.
It is a beautiful piece of clothing, and I wonder where it came from.
The sleeves are made of intricate lace that is shaped into leaves and thorns and branches. One of the servants helped me cinch in the corset at the waist, and the collar is high. I pinned back my hair to accentuate it, and pinched my cheeks to bring some color to them, though my face must still be pale. My long skirts rustle as they trail across the floor.
Callum is pacing up and down and his hands are in fists at his sides.
“Finally!” He spins around, eyes blazing. “You-“
He swallows, then blinks a couple of times. His lips part and his eyebrows raise. Taking a deep breath, he dips his head deferentially-his eyes never leaving mine.
“Your Highness,” he says.
I grab my black skirts, and walk past him. “It’s just a dress.” I flash him a smile as I repeat his words to him.
He huffs out a laugh as he falls into step beside me. He keeps looking at me, then averting his gaze when I catch his eye.
“You know, I forget sometimes. Who you are. I mean. . . I don’t forget. I know you’re the princess. Well . . I. . .” He exhales. “Goddess, you’ve got me tongue-tied. What I mean to say is that you look nice.”
I hide my smile, though I’m sure it’s evident in my tone. “Thank you, Callum.”
“It makes me think-“
“What?”
He sighs. “Nothing. A silly fantasy.”
I throw him a curious look, but he merely smiles sheepishly and gestures ahead.
The Great Hall is full of noise when we reach it, though it barely competes with the beating of my heart. Brodie, the small freckled boy, is playing bagpipes again by the open double doors. In another situation, I might tell him that he has improved. The screeching has started to actually sound like music.
Instead, I let loose a shaky breath. I need to reserve all of my energy to keep my head held high, and to stop myself from running.
“Is he in there? Your king?”
“Not yet, thank the Goddess. He likes to make an entrance.”
I take a deep breath. The air tastes like woodsmoke and whisky.