Page 22 of The Night Prince

“I find him. . . intriguing.”

“How so?”

“He collects broken birds. Have you noticed? The bastard with one eye, the abused woman, the half-wolf from the King’s City docks.” I feel his attention on me, and my muscles tighten. “The Southlands princess. I’ve long wondered what he intends to do with them. Heal them, or pluck their feathers. Cage them, or let them take flight. Perhaps they just amuse him.”

I frown as I make sense of his “birds”. Arran, with his scarred throat and eye patch, must have been the first, and from Jack’s Southlands accent, he could have originated from the King’s City docks. I don’t know who the abused woman is, though. Nor do I appreciate being referred to as broken myself. Even if it might be true.

“Are you a broken bird?” I ask.

The wind carries the sound of bagpipes as the summit of the mountain gets closer. Lochlan’s clan must already be here.

“We’re all a wee bit broken, aren’t we?” There’s a smile in his tone.

“How are you broken?”

He waves an arm beneath his cloak. “Nothing interesting, I assure you. Father issues, a lost love.” He gestures at Callum. “I hear he kidnapped you.”

“I chose to come with him.”

I stumble over a jagged rock, and the man grabs my arm and steadies me. There is strength in his grip. I mumble my thanks and brush myself down.

“Why would a Southlands princess choose to come to her enemy kingdom?” asks the male.

“I was supposed to marry a terrible man. I wanted to be free.”

“Ah, I see. Callum would have been powerless to resist.”

“What do you mean?”

“I hear he enjoys a damsel in distress.”

I have the strangest feeling this male is trying to antagonize me. I shouldn’t be surprised that Blake’s clan are as provocative as their alpha. “I’m not a damsel.”

“No? Yet you let him save you from your perilous situation in the Borderlands, rather than saving yourself.”

I’m stung by the slight shred of truth in that. “That is part of the story, I suppose. I’d also planned to gain information on the Wolves.” I shrug. “I thought if I gave it to my father, I could barter for my freedom. My loyalties changed when I got to know Callum. More so when I learned more about my father, and the man I was supposed to marry.”

“What truth did you learn?”

“That people in power mold their stories to serve their interests. That the Wolves are not the villains my people are taught to believe they are. Not all of them, anyway.”

Blake calls over to Elsie and asks her to keep the little beast under control.

The track steepens. At one point, I need to use my hands to clamber over some rocks. I’ve never had to do such a thing before, and a smile spreads across my face when my palms get wet and dirty. Callum looks over his shoulder when we’re on less treacherous ground and grins before playfully shoving Ryan toward the mountain edge. Ryan swears at him, face turning red, and Callum roars with laughter. I take a moment to catch my breath, shaking my head at the childishness of the alpha I find myself involved with.

The cloaked male steps beside me once more and chuckles. He must be as tall as Callum. He’s not as muscular, but his dark cloak hangs off broad shoulders. “What’s your name?” I ask, panting.

He inclines his head at the steep slope ahead, a blanket of stars above us. “Come on.” He starts walking once more. “We’re almost at the top.”

We reach the grassy summit and find ourselves at the edge of a stone circle. There must be about twenty people waiting for us—drinking from flasks and gathered around whisky barrels. A woman plays the bagpipes, and the shrill yet joyful sound fills the air. They all wear yellow tartan beneath their cloaks. This must be Lochlan’s clan.

The cold air is filled with chatter and the scent of wet earth. A soft laugh escapes me and mists in front of my face. For the first time in my twenty years of life, I have climbed a mountain.

“You have stunning hair, by the way,” says the male. “Many Wolves in the Snowlands have hair that color.”

My head snaps toward him at the mention of my mother’s homeland, but he’s watching the crowd.

Ahead, Ryan tugs Becky toward one of the whisky barrels, while Callum shouts after them to pace themselves. Jack strides toward a blonde woman in the middle of the revelry who wears a white dress. She’s the only person who isn’t wearing black.

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