Page 43 of Wolf's Prize

“Good night, Aimon.”

Anne waited until Aimon rounded the corner before she moved to Kathryn’s door and cracked it open a sliver. Kathryn slept soundly—her face relaxed in repose. Anne smiled. Two of her young men had found their mates. Happier times were on the horizon. She could feel it in her old bones. With any luck, in less than a year, there would be the sound of crying babies in these halls once again. Just what this place needed.

Chapter Eighteen

Kathryn made her way to the training room, as she had the last few mornings, to meet Aimon and continue her lessons. Three days of training, and each time when she had asked if they would go for a run that day, he had replied “you are not ready”. Three days of practicing her shifts. Hours spent familiarizing herself with the full scope of her senses, sometimes blindfolded, sometimes not. And throughout it all, she had maintained her decorum and kept her countenance agreeable. Not a single hint of dissension escaped her lips.

Three days of training with Aimon the consummate teacher—patient, competent and thoroughly detached. But when he thought her attention elsewhere, his eyes followed her, the heat in his stare burning through her clothing and setting her body on fire. He wanted her. She may be unversed in the ways of the bedchamber, but she could not mistake his desire. The scent of it, which she had come to recognize, bloomed thick in the air between them. So, why did he not act on it? Why did he keep her at such a chaste distance?

With a dejected sigh, she pushed open the door to the training room only to find it dark and empty. Her stomach lurched. Had he left her without so much as a word? Would she once more be confined to the keep until he returned? Not again. She spun on her heel and raced down the stairs.

The thudding of her heart slowed when she poked her head into the hall and found him staring at the wall hanging of the battle at Montsoreau. He had not left. She leaned against the door frame until her pulse returned to normal and her knees ceased to wobble. What she would have done had he truly left the keep she did not know.

He did not turn as she approached him, his eyes fixed on the embroidered figures in front of him, but a squaring of his shoulders told her he knew she was there. She sampled the air, teasing out his emotions as he had taught her. Deep sorrow washed over her, and a longing so intense it took her breath away. She stood beside him and stared at the scene depicted in embroidered thread.

“Do you regret becoming a werewolf?” she asked.

He took in a deep breath before releasing it with a long, drawn-out sigh. “No. If Gaharet had not turned me, I would have died that day, one more chevalier killed on the battlefield. I love being a wolf. The joy of running on all fours through the forest, allowing my wolf free rein… It is indescribable.”

“I would not know,” she muttered, but he did not respond. They stood in silence for a moment, side by side, staring at the wall hanging. “If you love being a wolf so much, then why do I sense sadness? What is it you are yearning for?”

Aimon chuckled. “You are progressing well.” He turned and headed for the door. “Are you ready to begin your training today?”

“Of course.” She followed him. “But why are you sad?”

He slowed, allowing her to catch up to him, heading not for the training room, but the large entryway doors. Were they going to the forest? Could he possibly be taking her for a run? Her breath quickened, but she said not a word, afraid to voice her hope should he quash it with a firm ‘no’.

“When I awoke after my turning, Gaharet gave me a choice—tell my family what I had become and ensure they did not betray me or keep my secret and distance myself from them.”

“Oh.”

Aimon opened the large doors and stepped into the sunshine. Kathryn quelled her burgeoning excitement. Today’s lesson would most likely focus on more scent work.

“I chose not to tell them.”

She stopped, staring after Aimon, before hurrying to catch up. “Why? Were you not close to your family?”

“My parents and my brother and I were as close as any family, I guess, although werewolves seem to have a stronger connection with their kin than humans. But telling them would put them in danger. As you well know, it is hard enough as a werewolf to keep our secret, but to expect others to, those who do not truly comprehend what it means…” He gave her a rueful smile. “It is a lot of responsibility. And I was not entirely certain how my mother would take it. There was a very real possibility she would inform the local abbot in an attempt to save my soul. That would have ended badly for both of us.”

He led her down the hill, past the guard and out through the gate. The forest beckoned her, and her wolf pressed close. She did her best to ignore it.

“Do you still see them? Spend time with them?”

“On rare occasions. I spend much more time with Gaharet and the rest of the pack now.”

“Do you miss them? Your family, I mean.”

He rubbed a hand across his chin. “We are more distant now than we ever were. I have little to say to them. My life has taken such a different path from theirs.”

Kathryn’s heart ached for him, and she laid a comforting hand on his arm. “But you have the pack—Gaharet and his other vassals.”

Aimon nodded. “I do, but it is not the same. And Gaharet and the others have had a lifetime together. All of them born into the pack, it in itself like a large, extended family. They were raised together, grew up together and have hunted together. I am but a recent addition, and while they accept me without question, I do not have the years of shared experiences that they all have.” He halted them on the edge of the forest, turning to her. “You have the opportunity to have both, Kathryn. Your family and the pack. That is no small thing.”

He paused. She dropped her hand, retreating. Was this just another part of her training?Aimon reveals his own sorrow in order to teach me a lesson?

“I know what your father did hurt you. You have every right to be angry. In your place, I would feel the same.” Aimon’s stare bored into her, earnest and heartfelt. “But he did what he did because he loves you, and he believed it the best way to protect you. I imagine he has regretted his decision many times over in these last few days.”

Kathryn turned away, folding her arms across her chest. She did not want to talk about her father. Ortoher father. Not yet. The wound was still too raw.

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