Текст книги "The wolf king"

Автор книги: Lauren Palphreyman

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Chapter Fourteen

“I was not jealous!”

I march ahead of Callum. My bare feet slap painfully against the flagstones. I have no idea where I’m going, but I need to get away from the aura of amusement he is emitting, and the wide grin on his face.

I was. . . caught by surprise when he hugged that woman. That’s all. He’s a wolf! An enemy! I was not. . . jealous he might have someone back home.

I’m so flustered that as I turn a corner, I barge into a servant. She yelps, and her basket of potatoes spills onto the floor.

“Oh, Goddess!” I say.

“Watch where you’re going—” She sniffs the air, and her lips curl into a snarl. “Human.”

I take a small step back.

“What are you doing here?” she growls, advancing. “Your kind isn’t welcome—”

Suddenly she stiffens. The girl’s eyes widen at something over my shoulder, and she bows her head in deference. Her cheeks flame.

Callum stands in the doorway behind me. He picks up a potato that has rolled into his boot, then walks over and places it in her basket.

“Everything okay, Kayleigh?” he asks.

“Aye,” she mumbles. “Thank you.”

She rushes off, presumably toward the kitchens, leaving me feeling rattled.

“She hated me,” I say. I’m used to indifference within the walls of the palace, but not hatred.

“Can you blame her?”

I swivel round to face him. “I have done nothing to her. And she looked like she wanted to kill me.”

He sighs. “You’re a human, Princ—” He stops himself from saying my title. “Rory.”

He walks past, and I fall into step beside him.

“Kayleigh’s father was killed by Sebastian’s army in an attack on their village, just north of the Borderlands,” he tells me as we navigate the gloomy corridors. “Her mother was taken—she’s presumed dead too. The humans burned the whole village. That girl, she barely escaped with her life. So, aye, she doesn’t like humans very much.”

“That. . . That’s awful.” I say. “I wish we weren’t at war. I wish so many people did not have to die. But if the Wolves stopped invading our lands, then perhaps we could find peace. Three villages just south of the Borderlands were raided in the last month alone. Many of my people have been killed, too.”

He looks like he’s going to reply, but he runs his hand over his mouth instead. His callused palms make a scraping noise as they brush over his stubble.

There’s a weary look in his eye—as if the facts I stated are tiring to him.

“Anyway, that’s why I didn’t tell Fiona who you really were. As Wolves, our hearing is a lot stronger than yours. If I’d have told her, the whole courtyard would have known you were the daughter of our enemy king, and betrothed to a man who has single-handedly tortured and killed many of our people.”

“Oh,” I say, softly. “They would have turned on me instantly.”

“Aye,” says Callum, darkly. “When the others are back, they’ll find out who you are soon enough. I’d prefer to present you to the king first. It’ll be easier to protect you if he makes it clear you’re not to be touched.”

A feeling, darker than the surrounding shadows, fills my chest. “What makes you so sure he won’t execute me to send a message to Sebastian and my father?”

“Because he wants the Heart of the Moon as much as I do,” says Callum. “And because I know him. And because. . . well. . .” He lowers his voice. “He owes me.”

My gaze darts to his face, curious, but he’s looking ahead.

When we reach the foot of a stairway, my shoulders droop again. Exhaustion is taking its toll on me, and the thought of mustering up the strength to climb who knows how many stairs is not a pleasant one.

But there will be some fresh clothes waiting for me at the top, at least.

Before I can step forward, Callum has scooped me up into his arms and is walking up the stairs.

“Put me down!” I protest, but my heart isn’t in it, and my hands automatically clasp around his thick neck.

His warmth seeps through the fur cloak I’m wearing and my body seems to soften into his. One of his hands is curled around the bottom of my thigh, and I can feel his rough palms through my thin nightdress. A burst of heat surges through me.

Callum’s jaw tightens, and he clears his throat.

“You’re tired,” he says. “And I gave you the dignity of walking past the others into the castle, but there’s no one around now.”

I’m surprised he considered how I would have felt to be picked up in front of all those Wolves.

Then I remember what Sebastian said at the dog fight—about Wolves preying on the weak. He must have known I needed to seem strong.

“I’m fine,” I say.

“You’re not fine. There’s no need to put airs on around me. We know each other too well now.” He carries me to a first-floor landing, leading me past a number of closed doors. His green eyes glint. “I mean, we’ve already slept together.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “Don’t you dare go around saying things like that!”

“But it’s true!”

I punch his chest. It’s like hitting a rock and he doesn’t even flinch. He merely chuckles as he carries me to a door near the end of the corridor. A narrow window lets in a slit of cold sunlight, and offers a glimpse of the mountains and the dark waters of the loch outside.

He puts me down and his nose twitches.

“Isla?” he says, looking over his shoulder.

Seconds later, a pretty girl around my age with long mousy-brown hair rushes out of one of the nearby doors. She’s wearing a dress made of the same red tartan that Callum’s kilt is made of. She squeals when she sees him.

“Callum!” She throws her hair over her shoulder, then flutters her eyelashes. “I’ve run you a bath—just how you like it—and there’s some fresh clothes laid out on your bed.”

She doesn’t seem to notice the weary look on his face as she loops a strand of hair around her finger and continues to chatter.

“I was hoping you’d be back in time for the full moon. And the equinox feast, I’m glad you didn’t miss it. How was the siege? Some of the others were worried you’d not be returning, but I knew. Don’t you worry about Callum, I told them, he’s—”

She cuts off.

She straightens, her eyes darkening. “Who’s this?”

“This is Rory,” says Callum with a tired smile. “I need you to grab her some fresh clothes. A dress and some shoes.” He pauses, thoughtful for a moment. “Put her in the clan colors.”

Her smile disappears. “She can’t wear the clan colors.”

“I wasn’t asking for your opinion on the matter, Isla,” says Callum.

Her cheeks turn red and she lowers her head.

“Of course.” She stomps over to the door she just emerged from. “Come on then.” She shoots me a cold look over her shoulder.

Callum gives me a reassuring nod. “I’ll be right out here.”

Taking a deep breath, I head after Isla. She leads me into a room, and shuts the door before hurrying to a wardrobe at the far wall.

I linger awkwardly by the single bed against one wall.

“These are your chambers?” I ask.

She huffs as she sifts through the fabric. “Aye.”

The room is small but comfortable. As well as the bed, there’s an armoire and a dressing table with a mirror on it. A narrow window looks out onto the mountain. The scent of rose petals permeates the air.

A moment later, she thrusts a red tartan dress into my hands and some leather boots.

“Thank you,” I say.

“I want them back, later.” She scowls, flicks her hair over her shoulder, then exits the room.

I breathe out slowly. Even though we’re indoors, my breath mists in front of me.

I suppose I’ll need to get used to people hating me. It will only get worse when they find out who I really am.

I inspect the dress. It’s simple—much less complicated than some of the dresses I wear at home. As I have no servants to help dress me, that is a good thing.

The fabric is thick red tartan, the same as Callum’s kilt. I hope that this is a good choice. Callum said he looks after his own, and it makes it seem like I am part of his clan. I only worry about what his actual clan will think of me wearing their colors. If Isla is anything to go by, they won’t be happy.

I take a couple of deep breaths to steady my nerves, then I peel off the fur cloak and wet nightdress, and change.

The boots are worn and a little too big for my feet, but I welcome the warmth.

I asses myself in the mirror.

I wince at the face starting back at me. My skin is pale and my eyelids are puffy. There are errant twigs caught in my tangled hair and I wish I had a brush and a hair tie. I don’t look like a Southlands princess at all.

I look wild.

How can I possibly face a king looking like this? How can I possibly face Callum looking like this?

Panic rises, and my eyes burn as I frantically run my hands through my hair.

If I’m not perfect, how can I get through this?

“Everything alright in there?” Callum’s steady voice permeates the door.

I close my eyes, then take a deep breath.

I am strong. I am stone. I am a statue.

“Yes,” I say.

“Good. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

I pinch my cheeks, bringing a little color into them, raise my chin, then nod to myself.

I will survive this.

I head out into the corridor. “Okay. I’m ready to meet your king.”

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Chapter Fifteen

Callum falls into step beside me.

I should be taking note of the way through this labyrinth. I should be mapping out the exits, and memorizing the rooms in this castle where the Wolves await.

Instead, my attention is ensnared by the man beside me. His eyes travel over my messy hair, then linger on tartan dress.

He swallows before focusing on the corridor ahead.

My throat tightens. “Is there a problem?” I ask, pulling my fingers through the tangled knots of my hair.

I do not want to be nervous about meeting with Callum’s king. But my stomach is turning over and over. If I’d just had a little more time to get ready—to compose myself and present myself in a way that is more fitting for the occasion—then perhaps this strange ball of energy inside me would have subsided.

“No.” He shrugs. “You look—”

“Don’t say I look nice. I don’t. I have not slept properly, I’ve been on a horse for two days, and I haven’t even had time to bathe!”

“I was going to say you look like a wolf.”

“That’s not a compliment!”

He grins. “But you do look nice.”

“So you’re a liar as well as a killer?”

“I’m only one of those things, Princess.” We head down a stairway. “And I seem to remember you hitting a solider on the head when we were at Sebastian’s castle, so perhaps I’m not the only violent one here.”

“I didn’t kill him,” I protest.

“No, you didn’t. It was a pretty weak hit.” He raises his eyebrows. “We’ll have to do something about that if you’re to stay here with us for much longer.”

“I saved you!”

The corner of his mouth tilts. “You caused a minor distraction, I suppose.”

I cannot believe he is referring to the single most outlandish thing I have ever done in my life as a minor distraction.

I have only known Callum for a couple of days, yet he is already the most irritating male I have ever encountered.

We head down another flight of steps, then through a narrow corridor. The different stages of the lunar cycle are carved along the stone walls. There’s a set of double doors at the end of the corridor with a colorful coat of arms hanging over it, depicting a wolf and a moon.

That must be where we are heading. I wonder if the man behind those doors will be cruel like the king I know.

“It’s going to be okay, you know,” says Callum softly. “The king is—”

He halts. All the muscles along his jaw tighten. For a moment, he is not the teasing Callum with mischief in his eyes. He’s the Callum who was in that dog-fighting ring—still and solid. A warrior. His biceps bulge against his sleeves.

He pushes me against the wall, and presses his palm over my mouth.

I inhale sharply. He doesn’t move for a moment and his heat burns me. He puts a finger to his lips, and I nod.

He steps back, takes my hand, and pulls me back the way that we came.

Whatever he has heard, or smelt, has obviously rattled him. Danger lies ahead.

We’re almost at the end of the corridor when the doors open behind us.

“Callum!” says a man behind us. “Where are you going?”

“Shit,” Callum curses under his breath. He takes a breath, composing himself, then turns around. “Duncan, I need to speak with James.”

The man in the doorway is shorter than Callum, and has blond hair scraped into a bun. He’s wearing a blue tartan kilt—so he’s not one of Callum’s clan. He grins, then gestures behind him.

“Come inside,” he says.

Callum pauses for a beat before he sighs. He heads back toward the door, his hand still clasped around mine.

I push down my panic.

When I first met Callum, I told him I had faced worse monsters than him.

I survived my father, who treats me like cattle to be traded to the highest bidder. My brother, who gained pleasure from demeaning me and humiliating me. Even the High Priest, who would beat me for my alleged sins.

I can face the Wolf King. Even if he is so fearsome that males like Callum have submitted to him.

Callum and I walk into a room that reminds me of a darker version of the council chambers back at the palace. There are fiery sconces on the stone walls, interspersed with carvings of lovers and Wolves and wars and moons. They might depict the story Callum told me about the Elderwolf and the Moon Goddess. A large green patterned rug is lying across the flagstones, faded where feet have walked across it. The air smells like woodsmoke, even though there is no fire lit in the grate. A thread of cold daylight comes in through the narrow window.

My attention is taken by the long table at the back of the room. And the four men sitting behind it.

The man—the wolf—in the center is obviously the king.

He is huge, with a shaved head, broad shoulders, and a thick neck.

On one side of him, there’s a male with an unruly beard, and on the other sits a short male with long brown hair.

My gaze snags on another male sitting further away from them at the end of the table—the only one who is not looking at me. He’s sitting with one arm over the back of his chair as he peels an apple with a small knife. He is strikingly handsome, with a sharp jawline and dark hair. Unlike the others, he is wearing breeches, not a kilt.

A strange feeling jolts through me. Recognition, perhaps, though I am sure we’ve never met.

Callum stiffens.

Duncan sits down at the empty seat at the left hand side of the table, and my attention flicks back to where it should be right now.

The Wolf King.

There’s something predatory in his gaze as he looks me up and down. His kilt is the same color green as Magnus’s. Callum implied that Magnus’s whole clan was horrible. Yet when Callum spoke of the king, his voice softened.

It doesn’t make sense.

I want to run away from this man, but I must play along.

I bow my head and curtsey. “Your Majesty.”

There’s a beat of silence, then all the men behind the table roar with laughter. All except the male with the apple who sits at the end.

“He’s not the king,” says Callum darkly. “Where’s James?”

“He had business to attend to,” says the male I mistook for the Wolf King. “Did he not tell you? He left me in charge in his stead.”

Callum’s eyes narrow. “Aye. Course he did.”

“You’re welcome to challenge me for the title, if you wish.” The big man leans forward, resting his sizeable arms upon the table. “As it’s my castle you’re in, I don’t imagine it’ll go well for you. Nor do I imagine James will be happy if I throw the whole lot of you out.”

A muscle twitches in Callum’s jaw. “When will James be back?”

The man shrugs. “How should I know? A couple of weeks, maybe.” His attention moves back to me. “I’m Robert. You can call me Your Majesty, if you like.” His grin twists into a leer, and a couple of the others snicker. “The real question is, who are you? And what are we going to do with you?”

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Chapter Sixteen

There is a ball of nervous energy inside me.

I walked into a den of Wolves, and they’re looking at me like they’re going to devour me. And this is before they’ve even discovered my true identity; the daughter of their enemy king.

It is only the dark-haired man draped over the chair at the end who seems disinterested in my fate.

“You’re not going to do anything with her,” says Callum. There’s a deathly calm to his tone. “She was Sebastian’s prisoner, and now she’s with me. I wanted to speak with James, but as he’s not here, we’ll be taking our leave.”

He grabs my hand.

“No,” says Robert, softly.

Callum stills, and a thick tension spreads across the room, mingling with the heady scent of woodsmoke. He releases me.

“No?” he says, his voice equally quiet.

Robert nods at me. “Who is she?”

I raise my chin. My eyes flit momentarily to the narrow window and the mountains beyond—the freedom that I desire. “I’m—”

“Her name is Rory,” says Callum. “A kitchen maid. Not that it’s any of your concern.”

A flicker of irritation cuts through the fear. Must it always be this way for me? Men discussing my future as though I have no say in it myself.

A crunch momentarily distracts me as the man at the end of the table bites into his apple. His eyes are on me, now. Glinting.

Callum shifts so that his body shields me from him—even though the man posing as the king is clearly the bigger threat.

“Why did you bring her here?” asks Robert.

“That’s none of your concern,” replies Callum.

Robert laughs darkly. “I won’t have a human walking freely in my castle. Though perhaps she can stay with me and keep my bed warm.”

A low growl vibrates in Callum’s chest and the humor disappears from Robert’s face. Beside him, Duncan rises and his hand moves to a sword in his belt.

It was foolish to come here, to think it would end differently than this.

These men will fight for me. And if Callum loses, will I be killed? Or will my fate be even worse?

I let a childish dream of freedom, and a wolf with kind eyes, ensnare me. Now I am in more danger than ever before.

Callum’s hand curls into a fist at his side.

“Oh, let him keep his pet.” The man at the end of the table finally speaks. His voice is as smooth as silk, and, to my surprise, he speaks with a Southlands accent. “Did I ever tell you about the time my mother let me keep a rabbit?” He looks at Robert, before going back to his apple. “When she took it from me, I cried.”

No one speaks for a moment. Silence hangs over us like a shroud. Robert sinks back into his seat and scrapes his hand over his stubble.

He chuckles. “Very well. Keep your pet, Callum. But she earns her keep.”

“I can find a use for her,” says the man with the Southlands accent.

“No,” says Callum.

The dark-haired male leans forward, resting his chin on his hand. “You know, little rabbit, I was in your king’s army, once. Perhaps we’ve already met.”

There’s something pointed in his words and my whole body stills. Does he know who I am?

Callum clasps my hand, but his heat is not enough to thaw the ice that spreads through my veins.

“She’s under my protection,” he says roughly.

Tension radiates from him as he pulls me out of the room and into the corridor. I almost stumble. He is silent as he leads me back through the labyrinth.

I shouldn’t have come here. I should have stayed with my people, and done my duty. I was foolish to think I was clever enough to survive this.

Callum squeezes my hand, as if he senses the direction of my thoughts, and my pulse steadies a little.

Then I pull out of his grasp.

He gives me a puzzled look.

“It’s inappropriate,” I say, quietly, as we climb the stairway.

He laughs, surprised. “That’s what you’re concerned about right now?”

“Well. . . no, Callum. I’m more concerned that I’m in a castle full of Wolves, my life is in danger, and your plan has failed.”

Callum stops outside a room. “I’ll keep you safe, Princess. You have my word.”

“And what? You’re just going to fight every single wolf in this castle, are you?”

“If I have to.”

He leans over my shoulder to push the door open, revealing bedchambers. His, presumably. A large four-poster bed dominates the space and my blood heats.

I have never been in a man’s bedchambers before.

“Go on,” he says. He walks forward, nudging me through, then closes the door behind us.

He drops into a leather armchair by a window that looks out onto the loch.

There is a large armoire on one wall, and a chest at the foot of the bed. The dark wooden floor is covered with a tartan rug, the same color as his kilt. Above his headboard hangs an oil painting of a rugged landscape. There’s a copper bathtub, filled with steaming water, in front of the fire in the hearth. I look at it longingly.

“I’m sorry I put you in that situation, Princess,” says Callum.

I shift on my feet. “What do we do now?”

He blows out air. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I don’t think anyone would be foolish enough to try anything with you under my protection. But I don’t like it. And if they find out who you are. . .” He shakes his head. “Either way, it looks like you’ll be staying with us for a while longer yet.”

“That man. . . The one with dark hair who was sitting at the end of the table. He knows who I am.”

Callum runs a hand over his full lips, then leans back in his chair. “Aye. I think so too.”

“Who is he?”

His expression darkens. “His name is Blake. He’s the most dangerous male in the Kingdom of Wolves, and he has the power to either help us, or destroy us. There’s a feast tonight. I’ll speak with him then. And I need you to come with me.”

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