Page 137 of The Wolf King

The room we are in is small and windowless. Claustrophobic. There is no escape.

A fire crackles in the hearth and fills the air with the thick scent of woodsmoke. Above the mantel, a large rectangle of the stone wall is lighter than the rest—as though a painting or tapestry once hung there but has since been removed.

There is no furniture except for a couple of high-backed leather armchairs. The Wolf King sits in one, and his fingers drum against the arm of the chair.

Now I know they are brothers, I can see some of the similarities between them despite their different hair colors, and the ink that covers James’s arms.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and well built, I can imagine both are a fearsome sight on a battlefield. They also have a similar stubbornness in the line of their jaw, and almond-shaped eyes—though James’s are hazel.

We assess one another, and an uncomfortable silence spreads across the room. I will my pulse to calm and my posture to remain straight as I push down my emotions.

Be bold.

Finally, James leans forward. “So, this is the princess of the Southlands.”

“She—” Callum starts to speak, but James’s gaze snaps toward him.

“You’ve had your chance to speak, Brother.” His tone is harsh and gruff.

I catch a huff of laughter from Blake, where he leans by the door with his arms folded across his chest.

I meet James’s glare. “Yes.”

“A lot of my men died because of you,” he says. “Good men.”

Callum grits his teeth and a flash of pain passes over his features. It is as though he bears the weight of those lives lost.

“A lot of my men have died because of you, too,” I say, softly.

The king’s jaw tightens in the same way Callum’s does when he is displeased. He runs a hand over his stubble. “Our sources tell us your betrothed has the Heart of the Moon. Is that true?”

“I would not know. I only met him twice.”

His gaze moves to Blake. “Are we certain he has it?”

Blake shrugs. “As certain as we can be.”

James rises and I tense at the power that radiates from him. Callum shifts slightly so that his arm is in front of mine.

I fight the urge to step back.

“Has my brother dishonored you?” James’s voice is dangerously quiet.

Indignation rises in me, my cheeks flaming.

“I would never—” Callum growls.

“I can smell you all over her, Brother!” James’s eyes blaze as he glares at Callum. “What were you thinking? You kidnap the princess of our enemy without running it by me first, provoking the wrath of both their king’s army and Sebastian’s army! A plan that would have pleased me, had my men been prepared for it, and had you not gone all sappy-eyed for the lass! He has Wolves working for him, you know? Prisoners he’s turned. If I can smell you all over her, they will too. How the fuck are we to trade her when Sebastian will know that you’ve had her first?”

My breathing sharpens, my stomach hardening. I feel as if my insides are turning to steel.

“We’re not trading her.” Callum’s body is unsettlingly still.

“You forget your place, Brother. Don’t make me put you in the dungeons.”

Callum laughs, but it is not his usual easy laugh; it is dark and unfamiliar. “I’d like to see you try.”

The air thickens in the room and the tension is like a palpable thing. It is like elastic pulled too tight. Callum is breathing fast and James’s biceps strain against his shirt.

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