Текст книги "The wolf king"
Автор книги: Lauren Palphreyman
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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 23 страниц)
Chapter Forty-Four
“I do not believe that gentlemen do that,” I whisper.
Callum grins.
The wolf is still in his eyes. His irises are forest-green and glint in the flickering light coming from the hearth. I feel warm and soft and weightless. It makes me even more aware of the solidity of his body, which hovers over mine, and the hard length that presses against my bare thigh.
Another lick of heat pulses through me.
What would it be like to make him lose control in the way that he just did to me?
I do not know much about men, but I know if I touched him. . .
His eyes darken as if he knows the direction of my thoughts.
I try to slip my hand between us, but his body is flush with mine. So, I nudge his big shoulder. Conflict mingled with something else crosses his features before, warily, he lets me push him onto his back.
I prop myself up on my elbow. I am transfixed by his body. I take in his large biceps and the dusting of hair on his chest. I cannot help but recall the first moment I laid eyes on him, when I found the size and strength of him threatening.
Now it stirs something very different to fear inside me. How can a male be built this way? His sculpted frame rivals that of the marble statues of the gods that line the King’s Approach to the palace. Hard and powerful and commanding attention.
Only, his cheeks are flushed, and his lips are swollen, and his chest moves up and down quickly. I have done that to him. Despite coming undone beneath him just moments ago, letting him have total control of my body, I feel powerful. What else can I do to him?
I touch his chest. He watches my hand as I run my fingertips down the ridges of his torso. I reach the hard V of his hips, and cast my gaze downward.
His arousal is obvious, visible through the thin material of his breeches. I hover my hand above it, my heart hammering in my chest. Callum seems to stop breathing. I think I have as well.
I have never done this before. Never touched a man. I have never wanted to until now. Will he finally lose control around me? Will he bend me over and take me in the way Wolves take their women?
Before, that frightened me. Now, heat pools between my legs in the place that is already slick and wet.
Tentatively, I move my hand down.
Callum lets out a low growl of frustration and grabs my wrist before I can touch him. In a sudden movement, he pulls me back to the pillow, turns me onto my side, and pulls me against his chest. His whole body is tense, flush against mine. His heart hammers against my back.
“What are you doing?” I growl.
“We have a big day tomorrow.” His voice is strained. “You’ll meet with the king. You should get some rest.”
A swell of disappointment grows in my chest. “You don’t want me to touch you?”
“More than anything, I want you to touch me.” He swallows. “But it wouldn’t be right. I’ll give to you, but I won’t take from you. That’s where I draw the line.”
I huff. “You are a gentleman, after all, then?”
“I’m a wolf and an alpha. I must have my honor.”
His hard length presses against my behind.
I shift slightly. He hisses through his teeth and puts his hand flat on my stomach, fingers splayed. He holds me still against him. “Princess, that’s not a good idea.”
“If you don’t like it, do something about it.”
“Speak to me like that again, and I shall bend you over my knee,” he growls in my ear.
Indignation spreads through my body, heating and pooling between my legs. He chuckles and kisses the back of my neck, causing another thrill to surge through me.
“And I do like it,” he says. “I like it very much.”
“Then, why?”
“One day,” he promises darkly. “One day, I will show you what happens when you touch a wolf.”
He strokes my bare stomach, his hand beneath my shirt.
“Now, go to sleep,” he says.
The movement of his hand is gentle and soothing, and—weightless as I am—I soon find my eyelids drooping and my body relaxing into his.
“The Wolf King is truly back?” I ask.
“Aye. He’ll address everyone tomorrow morning. We’ll speak with him then.”
“Are you worried?”
“No,” he says, but I catch a hint of hesitation.
“What happened? Why did he need your aid?”
“He was visiting one of the outlying clans, trying to drum up support for the war. He ran into Sebastian’s soldiers not far from here. The force of the army was much larger than it usually would be to siege a fairly insignificant castle, and they had better weapons than I’ve ever seen them fight with before. They took the whole castle and fort, and we barely escaped with our lives. Some didn’t.”
“He’s coming for me,” I say, horror replacing the warmth in my body. I knew this was coming, and for a while, I’d let myself forget. I was a fool.
“Aye.” His chest hardens against my back, and he pulls me a little closer, his hand firm on my torso. “They’re getting close.”
“Does the Wolf King know they were there because of me?”
He hesitates again. “No. I think James presumed they’d got wind he’d be visiting and the attack was in his honor. I haven’t told him about you yet.”
Silence falls over us, thick and heavy. All I can hear are the dwindling flames in the hearth, and the wind blowing against the castle walls. Words don’t need to be said.
When the Wolf King finds out I am the princess of his enemy, things could go badly.
“He won’t hurt you,” Callum says, finally.
He sounds so certain that I want to believe him.
Yet it is a while before I fall asleep.
I dream of wolf eyes, watching me through the trees.
***
The weak morning sun shines on the two dresses laid out on Callum’s bed. Callum retrieved them for me, not wanting me to encounter any Wolves while wearing only his shirt. Now he sits his armchair, looking out of the window, with a pensive look on his face. He’s fiddling with the button of his cuff.
If today wasn’t such a big day, I might be worrying that he regrets what happened last night.
But today, I meet with the Wolf King. I have no time to be dwelling on stubborn alphas, or the things that he did to me with his tongue.
I look between the two costumes I instructed Callum to bring me.
The first impression I make with his king is important and I have a difficult choice to make.
One garment is white and simple. It would make me look innocent and demure, like a perfect princess, a perfect doll.
The other is the black dress that caught my eye when I first arrived here. It’s striking, with intricate lace sleeves and a high collar. It is something someone important would wear, someone powerful. I run my fingers down the dark material, tempted by the power it seems to hold.
The two are polar opposites.
“Which one would your king like best?” I ask.
Callum slides his gaze from the mountains, to me. “Hm?”
I place my hands on my hips. “Which dress?”
“They’re both bonnie. You’ll look beautiful whatever you wear.”
I exhale. “That’s not the point.”
He raises his eyebrows and looks confused.
I shake my head. “Never mind. You are truly useless.”
He grins, then shrugs, moving his gaze back to the window. I cannot tell whether it is what we did last night that troubles him, or the upcoming meeting with the king.
Either way, I have more important things to be worrying about right now.
I eventually settle on the white dress, deeming the black too threatening. I was dressed in white the first time I was paraded in front of Sebastian, and though the outcome wasn’t favorable to me, it gained the best outcome for my kingdom.
I comb my fingers through my hair, then pull on my boots.
“I’m ready,” I say, finally.
He turns his head, and offers me a genuine smile, his eyes bright in the morning light. “You look perfect.”
“Are you sure?”
“Aye.” He opens his mouth as if to say something, then seems to think better of it. He runs a hand over his mouth, then turns his gaze back to the grey sky. “We’ll head down in half an hour.”
I don’t think I can wait that long. Not with Callum in such an odd mood, my thoughts consumed with what I let him do to me last night, and my doomed future creeping ever closer.
Something black catches my eye on the stone floor by the armchair—giving the whirlwind inside my chest a focal point. I pick up Blake’s collar.
He said he needed Callum alive. For what purpose?
He said some other horrible things about me, too. And he kissed me.
“I’m going to return this,” I say, holding up the collar.
Callum turns his head to look at me, his eyes momentarily hardening on the obsidian stone at the collar’s center.
His nostrils flare, then he smiles.
“Okay. But if you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m going to murder him.”
I nod.
Glad to have something to do, I head to Blake’s chambers.
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Chapter Forty-Five
I enter Blake’s chambers without knocking.
He’s in his armchair again, reading that book he took from my room.
He turns the page, then reaches for a teacup on the table beside him. From the fresh herbal scent in the room, I’d wager it is full of peppermint tea.
He takes a sip, then goes back to his book. “Have you met the last person, other than you, who burst into my chambers unannounced?” he asks.
“No?”
“That’s because they’re dead.”
“Am I supposed to be scared?”
“Yes.” He flicks the page. “You smell like wet dog, by the way. I knew Callum wouldn’t be able to resist playing with his new toy.”
I hold up his black collar to show I won’t be wearing it anymore. “I’ve come to return this.”
He shrugs, not lifting his gaze from his book. “You can put it on the desk.”
Irritation flares inside me. Is he not even going to look at me?
Deep down, I know it’s not just annoyance at Blake that flickers beneath my skin and makes my chest feel tight. It’s fear too; I’m afraid of this unchartered territory I find myself in.
I’m playing a game and I don’t know the rules any longer.
I’m lost among Wolves, and I think I am falling for one of them. I shared something with him last night that is forbidden to me. And he has been distant with me all morning. And soon, I must meet with his king—a male so fearsome that the other Wolves fall behind him.
I thought if I came to the Northlands, I could win the right to choose my own fate.
But the Wolf King is the one who holds all the cards here, and I do not know what moves I need to play in order to win.
I take a deep breath, forcing my emotions down and hardening my soul. I focus my attention on the wolf before me instead.
He looks as disheveled as he did on the night of the storm. Perhaps even more so.
He’s wearing the same clothes as last night. His white shirt is untucked and there are a few spots of blood on his unbuttoned collar. His dark hair is messy, and his feet are bare as he rests them on a footstool.
The candle beside him flickers, and is almost burnt out, even though the morning light permeates the narrow window behind him.
I wonder if he’s slept at all.
“Are you going to apologize?” I ask.
His gaze slides to mine as if I’ve finally caught his attention. “I saved his life. You should be thanking me.”
“You said. . .” My cheeks flame. “You said some very inappropriate things about me.”
A stupid dimple creases one of his cheeks. The smile doesn’t meet his eyes. “Come now, you can’t be acting shy any longer. Not after whatever you and that big oaf got up to last night.”
“You. . . you kissed me!”
“It was hardly a kiss.”
A tornado rages inside my chest, rattling my bones, and I need to release it. I toss his collar onto the floor between us. “Here.”
As soon as I’ve done it, I regret it.
I don’t know much about Wolves, but these collars are important to the alphas. Blake may be different than the others, but he is an alpha nonetheless.
For a moment, we’re paused in time. Neither of us moves, and the air is heavy and silent.
He slides his feet off the footstool, and rises.
A part of me wants to step back, but I make myself hold my ground. I won’t cower. Not before him.
He surprises me by crouching onto one knee before me. He picks up the collar, then looks up.
His body heat envelopes me, and I catch the scent of dark forests and peppermint tea.
He moistens his lips, and for some reason, what Callum did to me last night crashes into my mind. Followed by one of the horrible things that Blake said. About having me ride his face.
When Blake smirks, I realize that was exactly his intention.
I have had many things to be angry about. My father, selling me off to the highest bidder. My mother dying. My brother’s cold indifference. The High Priest’s cruelty. It is now that wild fire spreads through my veins. And when Blake slowly rises to his full height, I slap him across the face with all the strength I have.
The crack echoes around his chambers as his head jerks to one side.
I pull back, stunned, my heartbeat the only thing I can hear, my palm stinging. I cannot believe I just did that. I have never hit anyone in all my twenty years of life. Princesses don’t hit people.
They especially don’t hit Wolves. Or alphas. Or alpha Wolves that other alphas seem to fear.
Callum described Blake as the most dangerous male in the Kingdom of Wolves, and I just slapped him. Goddess!
As the mists of rage and confusion ebb away, I notice Blake is smiling. His cheek is bright red and his eyes dance.
“The rabbit has grown some claws,” he says.
“Don’t touch me again.”
“Likewise.” He walks back across the room, tossing the collar on the table, before dropping into his armchair. “Out of interest, what will you do if I touch you again?” He arches an eyebrow. “Put buckthorn in my tea?”
I narrow my eyes. “Wolfsbane.”
He smiles, then leans back in his seat and rests his ankle on his knee. He grabs his book and starts reading, as if he’s finished with me, as if I’m no threat.
I decide he is not worth any more of my time. I have more important things to worry about. I turn on my heel and stride back to the door.
“Aurora,” says Blake.
“What?”
“You’re not planning on meeting the Wolf King dressed like that, are you?”
Don’t bite. Don’t bite. Don’t—
“What’s wrong with this dress?” I ask, turning back around.
“You look like a pretty little doll.” The way he says it doesn’t sound like a compliment.
“Perhaps that’s the point.”
“This is not the kingdom of men.”
“Meaning?”
“Do you want to face the Wolf King as a queen or a doll?”
“I’m not a queen.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Are you a doll?”
“I’ll be either if it gets me out of this alive.”
He smirks. “James likes his women bold.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Probably wise. But I’m not lying.”
I scowl as I head out his chambers.
As much as I hate to admit it, I’d gone to Blake’s chambers to release some of this pent-up fury. If anything, I now feel even more unsettled. My mind is reeling as I navigate the stone corridors, and make my way back to Callum’s room.
Is Blake lying to make a fool out of me? Or was his advice supposed to help me? I cannot figure it out. What should I do? How should I navigate this dark and treacherous forest when it is the big bad wolf that gives me directions?
Callum is still staring out of the window when I arrive. He looks up as I enter, and concern flashes in his eyes.
“Are you okay, Princess?” His expression darkens. “Did Blake upset you?”
“I. . . no. . .” I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
He swallows, then nods—exhaling before turning back to the mountains. “Good.”
“You regret it, don’t you?” I try to sound confident, as if it doesn’t bother me that he’s acting distant after what happened last night, but my voice wavers slightly.
He turns back to me, his eyebrows lifting. His expression softens. He walks toward me, swamping me with his huge frame. I step back, and he steers me to the bed. When the backs of my legs hit the mattress, I sit down.
He crouches down between my legs and places his hands on my hips. His face is more serious than I’ve ever seen it.
“No,” he says. “Never. In another life, in another situation, we’d have spent this morning in bed with me between your thighs.” The corner of his lip lifts as my cheeks flame. “But due to the current situation we’re in, I admit, I’m a wee bit. . . troubled this morning.”
Some of the anxiety building in my chest diminishes, only to be replaced by a greater worry. “So you are worried about the king.”
He sighs. “There is a chance he may not be best pleased about. . . how protective I have become of you.”
Something warms inside my chest at the sincerity in his expression. “You don’t need to tell him.”
“He’ll know.”
“How?”
“My scent is all over you.”
Heat floods my face, and the reason Blake knew something had happened between us becomes evident. A part of me wonders if that is the reason Callum was happy for me to visit Blake in the first place.
“Oh. I should wash, then.”
“Ah, you see, that’s what’s troubling me. I want you to smell like me. I like it. I want every wolf to know, James included.”
I fold my arms. “That doesn’t sound sensible.”
He grins. “Aye, well I never said I was sensible. Besides, there’s no time now for a bath. Not unless you want to go for a swim in the loch.”
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.”
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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.
“He won’t harm you,” says Callum, touching the small of my back.
There’s a mass of Wolves in the Great Hall already, shouting and laughing as they wait.
“Even if he doesn’t, the others might,” I say. “My people have just attacked your people once more. Who is to say that the whole room won’t turn on me?”
He cups my face in his big hand, and bends to rest his forehead against mine. “I won’t let that happen. I swear it.”
I run a hand over his chest, feeling the strength in him, before resting my palm against his heart.
It beats steadily. Calm. Unafraid.
I’m not sure I believe this will work out in my favor. But Callum seems confident, at least.
He brushes his lips against my forehead, running his hand over the back of my neck.
“Come,” he says.
He takes my hand, then leads me through the doors.
The tables have been pushed to the sides of the hall, where the tapestries that depict the story of the Elderwolf hang.
Callum pushes through the tangle of limbs. Those nearest to us move aside to let us pass. Some look at me strangely, confusion and curiosity dancing in their eyes. I wonder if my dress lends a clue as to who I really am.
I suppose I no longer look like a kitchen maid.
I look like the daughter of their enemy king.
I keep my head high, though my grip on Callum’s hand tightens. He squeezes back as he leads me up the steps onto the wooden platform where the alpha’s table usually stands.
In its place, there is now a large wooden throne. It is simple, but the back has been carved into an image of trees twisting up to a full moon.
The alphas of the clans stand on either side of it—six in total including Robert the acting Wolf King.
Callum leads me to one side of the platform.
From the far end of the line-up, Blake catches my eye.
He looks very different from the disheveled male I encountered earlier. He’s changed out of his scruffy clothes, and is wearing an elegant black coat with silver buttons, over a dark shirt and breeches.
“How did it go with Blake, anyway?” asks Callum under his breath.
“I. . . kind of. . .well. . .” I fight the flush of embarrassment. “I hit him.”
Callum’s eyebrows lift. “He let you hit him?”
“No, Callum. He didn’t let me hit him. Why would you say that?”
“You’re very small.” He grins as I glare at him. “You’re not going to hit me, are you?”
“Oh, be quiet.”
He looks at Blake, who is straightening his cuffs, and his expression darkens. “He may look like a wee weasel, but he’s more capable than he seems. He was in the King’s Guard for a time, if you believe his stories. He’s a deadly warrior when he chooses to fight rather than stab people in the back, or poison them. It’s hard to believe you could just walk into his chambers and hit him.”
“Perhaps that’s how I did it. Because you males have such difficulty in believing women could do such things.”
“Hm, perhaps,” says Callum.
Across the room, Blake smirks, and I’m sure he’s listening.
I’m trying to think of something I can say to annoy Blake, when the bagpipe music stops.
I breathe in sharply. Callum tenses, his hard bicep brushing my arm. A hush descends over the Great Hall. For a moment, the air is thick with silence.
The pipes start playing again, but it’s a more regal piece with a slower rhythm.
“It’ll be okay,” mutters Callum, and I’m not sure if he’s speaking to me or himself as the crowd parts to create a walkway in the center of the room.
My heart beats fast. I think of the little that I know of the Wolf King. He united seven warring Northlands clans and big brutish alphas follow his command.
He likes bold women.
I need him to like me if I am to escape execution, and to avoid going back to Sebastian.
Be bold, I tell myself, though my insides are twisting and a storm is billowing in my chest. Be bold.
I raise my chin as all gazes turn to the back of the Great Hall.
The Wolf King steps through the wooden doors.
He looks like no king I have encountered before. Tall and muscular, he wears no crown or fancy jewels, and dresses simply in a cream shirt and kilt. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, revealing tattoos inked on his corded forearms. His tangled hair is brown, and it brushes his powerful shoulders. I cannot quite tell his age, but I’d wager he is around thirty.
He commands all the attention in the room, and as he strides toward us, the Wolves drop to one knee.
As he gets closer, and my pulse races faster, I notice that his kilt is predominantly red, like Callum’s, but it’s a different pattern. It seems to contain the colors of all the clans.
He walks up the steps of the platform, his boots thudding and shaking the wood. The alphas all dip their heads deferentially, Callum included.
I, however, cannot stop staring.
The Wolf King’s eyes land on mine, and he frowns. Slowly, he walks toward me. Callum tenses, and my insides clench.
Be bold.
He seems to appraise me for a moment.
“It’s customary to kneel in the presence of a king,” he says. His voice is low and powerful, thick with the accent of the Northlands.
I always thought my wedding day was the moment my whole life was building toward, but now, I think perhaps it was this one.
I have one moment to make an impression. One moment to show I am not a useless doll. Nor a pawn to be played in a game between men. Nor a statue, made of stone, with nothing inside.
I spared Ryan in that fighting ring. I chose to come with Callum to this Kingdom of Wolves. I bartered with him for my freedom.
Be bold, my pounding heartbeat demands. Be bold.
I swallow and raise my chin.
“A real princess does not kneel to a false king,” I say.
There’s a collective intake of breath within the Great Hall. A few of the alphas step forward. Shouts ring through the room. Robert’s hand curls around his sword.
I can barely focus on the disruption I have created. The hall is blurring around me. The adrenaline that pumps through my veins makes everything seem faraway.
I brace myself. I wait for the Wolf King to strike me down, to push me to my knees, or throw me into the dungeons.
As my pulse calms, I notice his displeasure is focused on Callum—who has stepped forward, his arm in front of mine. His head is no longer dipped, and his hard gaze is locked on the Wolf King in direct challenge.
My insides twist. Goddess, what have I done?
Across the platform, Blake’s lips curve into a wicked smile.
I try to think of something, anything, I can do to make this right, to make it look like Callum is not challenging his king.
Then the Wolf King’s jaw tightens as he stares at Callum.
“A word, please, Brother,” he says.
My eyebrows lift as James walks past us both, heads down the steps leading down from the platform, and through a door behind the throne.
Callum scans the Great Hall as a mixture of hostile and intrigued faces stare up at us. When he doesn’t find what, or who, he is looking for, he turns to Blake.
He gives me a hard look before turning on his heel and following the Wolf King through the door—leaving me alone with the Wolves.
Blake saunters over with his hands in his pockets. He stares out at the room.
“Well, it was bold, I’ll give you that,” he says.
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