Page 42 of The Night Prince

I shake my head. He’s wrong. He has to be. I lean forward so I can see him properly, beyond Callum’s big bulk. “My father will never accept him as a lord.”

“He might, given the right persuasion.” Blake arches an eyebrow at me, and I take a sip of wine so I have something to do with my hands.

“So, that’s why he wants you, Rory,” says Callum. He runs a hand over his jaw. “Fine. Done. I’ll personally hand you his head while I’m at it. What else do you want?”

“I want to know if Kai, or any of the other Wolves from that clan, are alive.”

“Kai is dead.” Blake’s tone is even, but that thread of shadow tightens. He’s lying. He runs a finger along his butter knife. “They’re all dead. My spy told me that, too.”

Lochlan’s eyebrows pinch together. “That is not what James seemed to think. If Alexander has Kai, and the lovely Aurora is here with us. . .”

Callum straightens in his chair. His fist clenches around his fork. He suddenly looks every bit the fearsome king he wishes to become. “Be very careful about what you suggest next.”

Lochlan chuckles. “I’m not suggesting we actually trade Aurora for the prisoners, Callum. But if there are men, women, and children from my clan who are still alive, she could be used to trick Alexander into thinking otherwise.”

I swallow. “You think he’s holding children captive?”

“I do.” He leans against the table so he can meet my eye. “Will you help me get them back, Aurora?”

“No.” Callum’s tone is final. “Rory will not be dangled like bait before him. When I’m king, I will make his death my priority, and if there are any prisoners that can be saved, we will get them out. But we must get James out of the way first.”

I can’t suppress my frown. It’s not as if I would suggest barraging recklessly into harm’s way, but if children’s lives are at risk and there is something I can do to help, it’s worth a conversation. I touch his wrist. “Callum. There may be—”

“No.” A muscle flexes in Callum’s arm beneath my fingertips. “And that’s the end of the matter.”

I narrow my eyes at his tone, his posture. “I’m not a member of your clan, Callum,” I say under my breath.

“No. But I’ll look after you all the same,” he fires back.

“I’ll send word to my spy,” says Blake, before I can retort. “Let’s find out if Kai is alive first. There might be something that can be done before we take any drastic measures. Jack?”

“I’ll ride out tonight,” says Jack.

Blake nods. “In the meantime, you’re welcome to stay in my castle, Lochlan. But Callum and I have grown fond of our little Southlands pet. We’ll kill you together if you decide to negotiate yourself a trade behind our backs. Callum likes to take a more forceful approach, whereas I...” The corner of his lip lifts as he runs a finger along the blade of his butter knife. “I like to play.”

Lochlan laughs. “It’s so nice to see you two getting along at last. Particularly after the other night.”

Callum makes a low sound in his throat. “I wouldn’t say that. But he’s not wrong.”

Lochlan ignores the two territorial alphas. “You’re safe around me, Aurora. I swear it.”

There’s something sincere in his expression, and I believe him. Yet I can’t pretend I’ve not noticed hostile glances throughout the evening from others within his clan. “What was your third condition?” I ask.

“Ah, it’s a simple one,” says Lochlan. “I merely wish for an audience with you, Aurora. In private. Tomorrow. Just you and me. What I have to say is for your ears only.”

Curiosity rises within me, while Callum frowns. “Whatever you have to say to her...” A woman walks through the doors to the Great Hall. A crease forms on his forehead and he snaps his gaze to Blake. “You didn’t tell me you’d invited Claire.” His voice is low.

Blake runs his finger around the rim of his wine glass. “I didn’t.” I feel his intrigue ripple through me.

I frown as the woman walks toward us. She has dark hair, half tied back and half loose down her shoulders. She wears breeches and a loose shirt beneath a blue-and-green tartan coat, and there’s a sword strapped to her belt. Most of her skin is covered, her clothing hugging an hourglass figure, and she walks confidently—as if she knows many of the Wolves in the hall have stopped their conversations to look at her. Her eyes are bright, her expression unreadable.

I recognize her name from somewhere.

“Claire,” I say softly. I recall the time that Blake told me James liked bold women. “Isn’t that—”

“James’s former lover.” Callum’s tone is dark as his posture straightens. “Aye.”

Tension curls in my gut because she could be here on behalf of our enemy.

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