Page 19 of The Night Prince

I don’t need telling twice. He takes my hand, and we head back into the woodland. Something loosens inside me asthe air freshens, and the scent of rain and pine fills my lungs. Both our footsteps are a little less relaxed than earlier as we walk quickly away from the chapel.

Chapter Seven

Callum seems restless in the days leading up to Oidhche Fhada. I think he wants to ride out to visit some nearby clans, but he seems reluctant to leave my side after my illness. I think the over-protectiveness must be a wolf thing.

We spend our time exploring the dark corridors of Lowfell, and the grounds outside. The castle is quiet. People seem to come and go as they please, some of them delivering meat and grains from a nearby village, then heading back home before nightfall. We see little of Blake, and I dread to think what he’s plotting.

Arran and Elsie frequently spend time together in the kitchens, while Arran cooks, and Elsie fusses over the small boy—Alfie—who raced past us on the stairwell on the first day. She must be his mother. We eat with them, one evening. They don’t converse with us much, but they talk among themselves about innocuous things—the weather, the upcoming ritual, the fact that the alpha, Lochlan, will be arriving soon. When they leave, Callum frowns when Alfie scampers past. Later, he tells me the boy seemed familiar.

On the day of Oidhche Fhada, when we’re taking a walk in the woods, Callum smiles when he sees Jack sparring with Ryan outside the stone walls of the castle. I recall that Callum suggested they train together.

“You want Ryan to spar with Jack?” I ask.

“At some point soon, we will be at war with Lowfell,” Callum tells me under his breath. “Arran is built like me, and he’s a Northlander. I know how he will fight. Jack is different. I want to get the measure of him, see how he has been trained, without him getting the measure of me.”

“By having him fight Ryan?” I arch an eyebrow, skeptical. Ryan is smaller and younger than Jack; he’s hardly going to push him to his limits.

Callum folds his arms and nods at the two. Ryan is more than holding his own against the stronger man. As if feeling our attention on him, and wanting to impress us, he pulls a maneuver that has Jack’s wooden sword flying out of his hands. Jack chuckles as Ryan presses his blade to his throat.

“Ryan may not be physically strong, but he’s excellent with a blade.” Callum gives me a big boyish grin, and his green eyes glint in the weak sun. “I taught him.”

My lips twitch. “I suppose you want me to be impressed?”

“Are you?”

I squeeze his bicep and roll my eyes. “You’re very impressive, Callum.”

His loud laugh causes a few birds to take flight from the woodland, and Jack to look in our direction and grin.

Later, the sky darkens through the window of our bedchambers, and my anticipation about the ceremony grows.

I sit in one of the armchairs by the fire, my legs curled beneath me, and flick through one of Blake’s books. I took it from the library—a dusty room in the tower that Callum has been walking me to each morning, before complaining that he’s bored.

Experiments: Book Twois handwritten across the front. I found a book like this in my old chambers at Madadh-allaidh. Similarly, it’s an account of torture conducted on Wolves, that I presume was written by Blake. I don’t want to read about the awful torment that Blake must have inflicted, yet there are sections within it about the full moon.

I read about the way in which a wolf’s bones break and shift, the ways different stimulus can provoke the subject’s inner beast, the way that reason and logic is replaced by primal instincts when the wolf surfaces. The lunar eclipse is tonight, and it’s two weeks until the moon will be full. If Blake and Callum are right about me, then these things will happen to me, too. Tension coils in my chest and squeezes. I chew my fingers, and some of the knots unwind as I rip off the edge of my fingernail.

The leather armchair on the other side of the hearth creaks as Callum stands. Slowly, he unbuttons his shirt. I put my book down, transfixed, as he exposes his hard chest and the ridges of his torso. He shrugs the material off his powerful shoulders, and drops it onto the floor.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

He sits back down in the chair, legs slightly parted. “Come here.”

“No,” I say, because I’m feeling restless, and I want to see what he’ll do next.

“Aye. Now.”

The corner of my lip quirks, as my pulse accelerates. The dark hunger in his expression compels me to obey. I slide my feet out from under me, and pad across the floorboards toward him.

He pats his lap. “Sit.”

I arch an eyebrow, and try to appear unaffected by the powerful shoulders and the mass of muscle before me. “You’re very bossy this evening.”

“I’m an alpha. Now do as you’re told.” His eyes glint playfully, so I know he’s only teasing.

I climb into his lap, and my thighs press against either side of his. He breathes in deeply as his hands find my waist. Warmth spreads through the woolen material of my dress as he squeezes.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

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