Page 24 of Wolf's Prize

Aimon nodded. “Some good, some bad.”

Gaharet inclined his head. “Come inside. We will talk.”

Aimon followed Gaharet into the cottage, stooping as he entered the doorway. It was a cozy space, with pots, scrolls and all manner of strange things lining the shelves. Bunches of herbs hung tethered to the rafters, and a large pot sat over the fire pit, the coals cold beneath it. A cloth covered an opening he presumed led to the sleeping nook of the strange woman who called this place home. Of her, he saw no sign. On a cot in the corner lay a sleeping Erin, her blonde hair splayed across the bed and her breathing soft and steady.

“How is she?”

Gaharet’s face gentled at the mention of his betrothed. “She is well. Her turning is complete. The herbs Constance gave her made a significant difference to her pain.” He looked over at Erin, his voice rough with emotion. “She would not be here if not for Ulrik. I have much to be grateful for.”

“Constance? Is that the witch?”

“Yes. She knows all about us. It is unnerving. She tells me our ancestors turned to her people when they faced a similar plight as we do now, and her people created the amulets.”

“Truly? I wonder what else she may assist us with.”

“Precisely. We have been very lax with our lore and our history, to our detriment. I plan to remedy that as soon as Constance returns from the village.” Gaharet removed his sword but kept it close as he took a seat at the table. Aimon joined him. “I am not certain how much sense we will make of what she can tell us. The woman speaks in riddles.” He placed two mugs on the table, filling them with mead and handing one to Aimon. “What news do you have?”

Aimon took a sip from his mug, then filled Gaharet in on their summons from the comte.

When he finished, Gaharet shrugged. “So Lothair wants you all to re-pledge our allegiance? Not unexpected. We defied him. There were always going to be consequences. We should feel blessed that is all he asked for. Lance and the others, did they believe our deception?”

“They could not doubt it. Lothair has your amulet. Although, not all are convinced Ulrik is responsible for everything.” Aimon raked his hands through his hair. “How am I supposed to ferret out this traitor, Gaharet? Aubert and Edmond’s anger appears genuine. They are calling for Ulrik’s blood. Godfrey does not believe Ulrik would betray us, and Lance is concerned for Erin’s safety. But Godfrey thinks one of us should mate Erin now you are dead, and Lance lied about being in the clearing.”

Gaharet glanced at his mate and growled low in his throat. “Wait, Lancelied?”

“Yes. He told us all he had gone there, but arrived too late, yet I found no scent of him anywhere near the clearing. And there is something else that bothers me. He planned to petition Lothair for your estate.”

Gaharet raised his eyebrows.

“He claimed your estate is too important for the pack to lose.” Aimon shrugged his shoulders. “It matters not. His plans are redundant now. Lothair bequeathed it all to your uncle, Farren Beauchene.”

Aimon eyed his alpha, his maker, as Gaharet considered the news. How would he feel to lose everything his family had built up over centuries? His wealth, his title and his land?

Gaharet shifted his gaze to Erin.

Perhaps having her, having his mate, was enough. What would that feel like? Aimon’s gaze sought the sleeping Erin. He remembered the bone aching weariness after his turning. He had slept for days.

“So, Lothair believes one of my vassals sold us out for wealth, land and power, and he set a trap. I wonder… Could Lothair have the right of it?” Gaharet tugged at his beard, his expression thoughtful.

“There is more. It complicates things.”

At the thought of Kathryn, an unusual reluctance to divulge his discovery crept over Aimon, stilling his tongue. He flushed with a possessiveness, unfamiliar and disconcerting. What had happened last night—from his stolen kiss in the forest to Kathryn clinging to him, safe in his arms after her transformation—felt personal and was something he was not eager to share. Not even with his mated alpha. It confounded him.

“What is it, Aimon?”

He shook off his reticence. “I have fallen foul of Lothair’s trap with the Beauchenes.”

“Aimon?”

“I am sorry, Gaharet. There was no help for it.”

Gaharet’s lips twisted in a smirk. “Has our kind’s compulsion to find a mate sunk its claws into you, Aimon? I cannot say I am surprised. We all feel it. You were bound to succumb to it eventually.”

Aimon looked down at his hands. “No. That is not it. I had no choice but to visit the Beauchenes. If I could have sought confirmation another way, I would have, but I saw no other option.”

“Confirmation?”

“Kathryn Beauchene is one of us.”

---