Page 57 of The Night Prince

The hall is quieter this morning. Lochlan and his clan are planning a hike to Dawn’s Craig later as part of a Glas-Cladach ritual, and he’s taken them outside. Ryan and Becky seem to be arguing by the doors, Callum is crouched in the middle of the flagstones and is attempting some kind of magic trick for Alfie, and Elsie and Arran are talking quietly while they eat breakfast.

Blake sits straight in his chair, and his hand is curled into a fist on the table. Beside him, Jack looks at him in concern.

The full moon is tomorrow. I walked in on Blake last month, shirtless, his muscles clenched and dripping with sweat. He was trying not to shift. I know he doesn’t like being a wolf. Perhaps I’m merely feeling his anxiety, which rivals my own.

An idea takes root. The moonwasshining brightly the night that Blake forged our connection. If Blake drew on the power of the moon to create the bond, then perhaps I could draw on the same power to break it.

It takes me back to my conversation with Lochlan regarding my mother, and the moonflower at Glas-Cladach.

What if the Heart of the Moon could be used to break the bond?

Chapter Twenty-Two

The evening before the full moon, I stare out of the window.

There’s a solitary figure outside. His coppery hair is being blown around by the wind as he throws stones into the loch with his head bowed. Ryan seems to be having as hard a time today as I am. Though I presume his dark mood is related to his argument with Becky.

All my life, I’ve swallowed my feelings and entombed them in stone. If it ever cracked, I’d be accused of hysteria. It always struck me as unfair. My father executed anyone who stood in his way, and my brother emerged from King’s City taverns bloody and bruised most evenings. Yet I was deemed emotional.

Now, my emotions churn like the waters of the loch that surrounds Lowfell. They howl with the gusts of wind that travel through the mountains. I try to fix my mask and act as impenetrable as I’m expected to be.

I feel the weight of Callum’s gaze against my back. I feel night’s shadows closing in on me. It’s suffocating. I suppress a whimper. I cannot do this.

There’s a rustle of fabric, and the armchair by the fire groans. Callum’s footsteps approach, slow and steady, before his mountain scent wraps around me. One of his big arms curves around my torso.

“Don’t be afraid.” His words are warm.

“I’m not afraid.”

He slides his palm over the dress I wear, up to my chest, leaving a trail of heat, and stops just beneath my breast. He lightly taps my ribs with two fingers. The pace is fast, a frenzied bird, in time with my racing heartbeat.

“Liar.” He trails his lips along my neck, and something hot blooms amid the cool darkness. “Turn around. Tell me, Princess, am I afraid?”

He turns me to face him. He doesn’t need to take my hand, callused palms rough yet gentle, and press it against his chest for me to answer. Nor do I need to feel the steady thump of his heart. Why would he be afraid? What would scare such a male?

His shirt stretches across powerful shoulders, and the sleeves are rolled up to expose thick, corded forearms. His hair is shorn close to his head at the sides—a warrior’s cut. He was built to lead armies, to leadkingdoms.Even Blake seems to have conceded that he needs Callum in order to dispose of James and get what he wants.

He puts his finger beneath my chin. “I’ll be with you, at your side. You have nothing to fear, I swear it.” He presses his forehead against mine. “What can I do, Princess? Tell me, and Ishall do it.” He sounds almost as helpless as I feel. “How can I make you feel better? Let me in.”

I wish his solidity, the hardness of his chest, and the steadiness of his breathing was enough. “I’m fine.”

“I will kill him for you.” His tone is low, almost guttural, and his hot breath brushes my lips. I know he’s talking about James. “I will claim this kingdom for you, and he will pay for what he did. In a couple of days, we’ll have an army.”

I offer him a weak smile. I know he’s trying to make me feel better, but justice doesn’t negate what has been done. I have to live with the consequences of James biting me for the rest of my life, and I can’t help but fear it.

A soft tap at the door makes both of us start.

“Come in,” says Callum.

Very slowly, the door opens. A messy mop of dark hair appears through the gap, followed by a small flushed face.

Callum’s answering smile is big and easy, and it instantly transforms his face. Warmth radiates from him. It eases some of the anxiety that coils in my chest. I can tell Callum likes children. I think he would make a good father.

“Hello, Alfie,” he says. “Can we help you?”

Alfie blushes, and shifts from one foot to the other. He is clearly nervous to be speaking to the big scary alpha of Highfell. “My mum requests the princess’s help in the kitchens.”

“Does she now?” Callum’s green eyes twinkle in the evening light. “She has obviously not tasted the princess’s cooking.”

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