Filed to story: My Kidnapper Is the Wolf King
“You won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because if something were to happen to me, what do you think would become of Callum?” He fastens the silver button on his cuff. “What will become of you?”
My soul hardens. Every bone in my body turns to ice. My muscles stiffen, and my fingers dig into the thin mattress that sits on the cot.
Blake pulls a key from the pocket of his breeches, and turns it in the lock. The door screeches open.
He holds out his arm for me to take. “Come. James is expecting us.”
My laugh sounds bitter and twisted. “Why on earth would I come with you?”
“Play along with my game, and you might survive. You may even avoid being sent back to the Southlands.”
I grit my teeth. “How does giving me to James help you to get what you want?”
He gestures with his head. “Come and find out.”
When I make no sign of movement, he exhales. His breath plumes in front of his face.
“When I present you to the king, you will be presented with a choice,” he says. “Choose correctly, and you will be safe. You have my word.”
“Your word means very little to me, Blake.”
He shrugs. “Of course, I could come in there and throw you over my shoulder. I could carry you kicking and screaming to the Wolf King. Is that truly how you wish to present yourself to him when so much is at stake?”
He holds out his hand. I glare at it, then him.
I know he is serious. If he came into this cell, I could hit him and try to run free. But I felt the strength in his body when we danced. I recall Callum telling me that Blake is stronger, more competent, than he seems. Perhaps it would give me some satisfaction, to inflict even the smallest bit of damage onto this snake. But he will win, in the end. And then what?
No. I will not fight him. Not yet. I will bide my time. I will be smart. I will find out what the Wolf King has to say.
Perhaps I can make my own bargain. Perhaps I can play my own game.
I take a deep breath and I rise. I brush some mud from my breeches, watching as it scatters across the stone floor. My legs are shaking, but I raise my head as I cross the cell, ignoring Blake’s outstretched arm.
“I hate you,” I tell him through gritted teeth as I walk past him into the gloomy corridor.
“Oh, darling, I know.” The door to the cell swings shut, and he falls into step beside me.
We walk up some stone steps. They’re damp and they glisten in the torchlight. At the top, Blake unlocks another door, then leads me down a tired walkway, the walls lined with fading portraits. There’s a murmur of voices in one of the rooms that we pass, and I wonder how many men James has brought with him. If there are not too many, perhaps I can escape them.
I shiver, wishing I had my cloak as we head up a stairway and toward a door at the end of the landing.
Blake taps his knuckles against it, and my stomach clenches when he pushes it open. He stands back to let me enter first.
I’m hit first by a wave of warmth from the fire in the hearth. We appear to be in some kind of drawing room. There is a worn rug on the floorboards, a writing desk by one wall, and a few battered leather armchairs collected around the fireplace. James sits in one of them.
His presence seems to fill the entire room.
It is not just his size, it is the power that radiates from his eyes when they land on mine.
His brown shoulder-length hair is wild, and he is dressed in his red kilt, slightly different to Callum’s. The sleeves of his cream shirt are rolled up to his elbows and I notice one of the tattoos on his forearms is a flower-a contrast to his otherwise hard demeanor.
I grit my teeth, and hold my head high. I won’t cower before him.
He scratches his jaw, then smiles. “Take a seat.”
I sit in the armchair opposite him. Blake crosses the room and leans by the wall beside the window.
“I apologize for how I got you here, Princess.” I flinch at him calling me that-even though it is my title. It is what Callum calls me, and it sounds wrong coming from his mouth. “You shouldn’t have run from me.”
I do not reply. What does he expect me to say?
“I have sent word to Sebastian. He is on his way.”
“He won’t give you the Heart of the Moon, you know?” I say.
James runs a hand over his mouth. “No. I doubt he will.”
I try to remain calm, even though I feel as if there’s a tornado in my chest. “So what is the point in all this? Why give me back to him? Why betray your brother?”
His eyebrows raise. “You think
I’m the one betraying my brother? He turned his back on his people when he stole you from me.”
“I am not an object to be stolen. And you haven’t answered my question.”
He shifts back in his armchair, the leather squeaking beneath him.
“I don’t give a shit about the Heart of the Moon. Men win wars, not goddess-blessed relics. If Sebastian brings it, then great. If not, no harm done. What I care about is Sebastian. I want to hurt him. I can use you to do that.”
I wish he could not hear my pulse as I stiffen. “You’re going to hurt me?”
“Did Callum tell you what happened to our mother?” asks James.
“He said she ran away.”
“Aye. She did. I never had the heart to tell him what happened next.”
Despite the blazing heat coming from the fire, my blood runs cold. “What?”
“Sebastian got her. I do not know what she endured in the weeks before, but I know what happened on the night of the full moon. My father received confirmation a few days after when a fur coat arrived on our doorstep.”
A wave of nausea rolls through me so strongly that I grip the arms of the chair. I know that Sebastian is a monster, but finding out that he tortured Callum’s mother is almost too much to bear. What’s more, James knew this, and let Callum travel to King’s City to look for her anyway.
“You never told Callum.” My voice is quiet, almost inaudible.
“I wanted to spare the lad.” He grits his teeth, his jaw hardening.
I wonder if he really believes this, or whether keeping this information from Callum was part of his ploy to keep hold of the throne.
“I have done more for him than he will ever appreciate,” says James. “And this is how he repays me? By taking you away?”
My pulse accelerates. “Sebastian does not care about me, you know? If you hurt me, it will mean nothing to him.”
He stares at me long and hard.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. So here is where I offer you a choice. The first option is that we go ahead with the trade. Sebastian will come for you, and I will give you to him. He will bring his men, and I will bring mine. And when he gives me whatever piece-of-shit rock he thinks I’m going to believe is the Heart of the Moon, and when I’ve handed you over, war will break out. I will do whatever it takes to kill him. And perhaps he’ll get away with you, or perhaps you’ll get caught in the crossfire. Either way, I do not think your chances of survival are very high.”
“So, what is the other option?”
“The other option is that I take something from him. Something that will humiliate him. Something that will send a message to all of the Southlands.” He leans forward in chair, resting his elbow on the arm. “You’re a bonny lass, Aurora. And it’s about time I found myself a queen. The other option is you marry me.”
Chapter Fifty-Four