Page 4 of The Wolf King

The alpha stands and turns away from the crowd. He lets a couple of guards cuff him.

“Put them back in their kennels,” says Sebastian. “The winner can go to the nicer ones. It’s only fair, and he will need his rest for what we have planned for tomorrow. Put the loser back with the rest. If he survives the night, we will find a job for him as my betrothed wishes. These creatures prey on the weak, though, so I doubt there will be much left of him by morning.”

A couple of armed guards lead the alpha away through the oak doors at the end of the hall, while a steward hurries forward to drag his opponent off the floor.

“My betrothed—like many women from the south—hasn’t the stomach for this sport, and why should she when she is such a beautiful flower? She will be taking her leave now, before the next fight. She needs to prepare for tomorrow night.”

His eyes harden, and my heart thuds frantically against the cage I keep it in. I dip my head regardless, and, steadying my trembling hands, I curtesy.

Without a backward glance, I hurry across the ring. I try to ignore how my skirts trail in the blood as I head through the doors.

Just ahead, the two fighters from the ring are being escorted away.

The alpha is almost at the end of the corridor. Behind him, the young wolf is drooping over the shoulder of the steward, his breathing ragged. He is not in good shape. If someone does not tend to his wounds he won’t be working in the stables any time soon. And if what Sebastian says is true—about Wolves preying on the weak...

“Wait!” I internally curse the shake in my voice. I should not be afraid. This is to be my home.

The alpha stills, and the torchlight from the corridor flickers across his hard profile. Though he’s twenty feet or so away from me, his body heat washes over me. His scent does, too—sweat and blood and the mountains. My heart races, but I turn my attention to the injured boy.

“Take the young one to the nice...kennel.” The inhuman word catches in my throat.

I know these men are not human—even though they look it. I know that, being from the south, I’ve not had to face constant attacks from the Wolves like the north have. Perhaps if I had, I wouldn’t judge. The way the alpha fought in the ring proves the Wolves have little mercy within them.

Still, it feels wrong.

Ahead, the muscles in the alpha’s arms tense. He looks as if he’s going to turn around.

But then the guards push him through the next set of doors and he’s escorted away.

I let loose a breath.

The steward who is propping up the boy turns to me, his thick eyebrows knitting together. “The lord said—”

“I am to be your lady, and I’m the daughter of your king.” I stand straighter.

I have played pretend all of my life. I have smiled when my heart was breaking, I have laughed when I have been disgusted. I have swallowed my rage when a lord has been handsy with me on the dancefloor at a ball.

I can play the part of the formidable lady of this castle.

I raise my chin. “Put him in the nice kennels, and make sure he has a decent supper.”

I skirt past the two of them, and make my way through the labyrinth of stone corridors to my chambers in the northern wing.

There are a couple of handmaids waiting for me, and I allow them to dress me for bed in a long-sleeved white nightdress that reaches my ankles. I dismiss them, walking past the four-poster bed to stare out of the window at the rugged mountains in the north. The sky is lit by a crescent moon.

A growing restlessness writhes inside me as the trees sway in the distance and the wind batters the walls of the stone castle. What I said to the steward was true. Tomorrow I will be the lady of this castle. Yet I have no power.

I never have.

I have no power to take my leave of this place—to breathe in the scent of heather and fern, to bathe in bubbling brooks, or drink in local taverns. I have no power to speak to whom I choose, or form friendships, or to fall in love.

And I have no power to save the young wolf who will surely meet his end—if not tonight, then tomorrow, when he is deemed not fit to work and put back into the bad kennels.

I grit my teeth, then I grab a cloak from my wardrobe and throw it on.

Powerless as I am, I cannot do nothing.

The memory of my mother’s voice chases away the fear.

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