Page 6 of Wolf's Prize

Lothair’s lips thinned. “I said out!”

Edmond gave a low chuckle, and Aimon dared to smirk in Renaud’s direction. The archeveque scowled and opened his mouth, perhaps to argue his dismissal. Lothair glared, and Renaud’s mouth snapped shut. With an angry swish of his robes, he stalked from the room, the thud of the large doors closing behind him echoing through the now empty hall. The alliance between the comte and the archeveque was more precarious than they had thought.

Aimon shifted his attention back to Lothair. The comte sat in his chair, his body draped in mail, his sword buckled about his waist and his keen gaze settling for a moment on each one of them. He had come to this meeting fully armed. Archeveque Renaud posed a significant threat, but their more deadly opponent sat before them.

Tension radiated from the men to Aimon’s left, the stench of it coating his nostrils, but they made not a sound, standing firm. Aimon’s heart swelled. That he was one of them, despite so few of them left, filled him with pride.

Lothair reached beneath his mail and retrieved a small gold disc on a chain. He held it out for them to see. A howling wolf’s head on one side, a blood-red jewel glinting in the firelight, on the other. The throb of his pack members’ emotions reached him—anger, disbelief, shock. Despite knowing Lothair had the binding amulet, having witnessed Lothair take it, seeing it in his hand unnerved him, too. He did not doubt the others would scent his unease.

“Interesting little thing, this,” said Lothair, swinging the amulet on its chain. The alpha’s amulet. “What it represents. What it does. I believe you all have one, though not quite like this.”

A muscle ticked in Aimon’s jaw. Did Lothair know the significance of the bloodstone set in its center?

“Renaud tells me your amulets have an inscription. That you can recite it and”—he snapped his fingers—“disappear.”

The air crackled, like the moment before lightning struck, but no one said a word.

“But this one… This one is special. This stone”—he grasped the amulet, staring at the bloodstone—“denotes the alpha of your little…pack.”

Aimon exhaled long and slow. Lothair had yet to discover the true purpose of the bloodstone, that it bound all other amulets to it. When they activated their amulets with blood and the words of the inscription, the bloodstone acted as a beacon, drawing them in. A safeguard for when they were at their most vulnerable. They may appear to disappear, but in reality, the bloodstone brought them home to the safety of their alpha, the strongest of them all.

Some of the tension eased from the men beside him, but they must wonder how Lothair came to possess the binding amulet.

“This one,” continued Lothair, “belonged to Gaharet.” He clasped the amulet in his hand and ran his fingers over it, examining it. His gaze flicked back to them. “Gaharet’s dead.”

A throaty rumble, a gasp, a ripple of anger from the men beside him. Aimon tried to tease out the different emotions from them, searching for one of triumph, a hint of satisfaction, but he sensed nothing untoward. He gritted his teeth. The traitor was adept at concealing his emotions from humansandtheir kind.

“It might surprise you to know,” said Lothair, “he did not die by my hand, or at my orders. I took this…” he said, tossing the amulet in the air, catching it in his palm, once, twice, three times, “…off Ulrik.”

The pulse of anger turned to fury and a low inhuman growl rumbled deep in the throat of one of them. Aubert? They had swallowed Ulrik’s deception. In that godforsaken clearing, Gaharet and Ulrik had conceived a plan to fool everyone into thinking Gaharet was dead. Ulrik and Gaharet’s past altercation making it easy for them to believe. Aimon smothered his relief, masking it, he hoped, with his fear for Ulrik. His skill at deception was somewhat lacking.

And what was Lothair’s game? He knew Gaharet lived. Had seen him with his own eyes in the clearing. Aimon’s brow furrowed. He caught Lothair’s gaze, and a slight widening of the comte’s eyes, before his attention flicked back to the other men.

L’enfer. Have I given myself away?Did Lothair now suspect he, too, knew Gaharet lived? That he had witnessed the exchange in the clearing. Observed Lothair and Gaharet come to an agreement?

Again, Lothair’s gaze settled on him, and Aimon kept his face blank, opening his senses, reaching out to the comte.

Merde.

He dropped his gaze. Lothair reeked of curiosity. Because of him? Aimon could not tell.

“If my understanding of how this works is correct, then Ulrik is now your alpha,” said Lothair. “But I am afraid you will not have the opportunity to congratulate him on his new position. He is resting. In a cell beneath this keep. Bound in silver.”

The others shifted uneasily beside him.

“And what is it you want from us?” asked Edmond.

Lothair snarled. “Mon Seigneur.”

“What?”

“What is it you want from us,Mon Seigneur?” Lothair leaned forward in his chair, his voice rising. “I am your comte, and Iwillhave your allegianceandyour obedience. You will yield tomeand no other. When the next lot of squires comes before me to swear their investiture, you will kneelbeside them. I will have it known no matter how powerful a chevalier becomes, he ismineto command. I will not tolerate any less than your full submission to my will, andmywill alone.”

The echoes of his voice bounced off the walls of the hall, fading to an eerie quiet. They were to be made a spectacle of. The indignity of it rankled, but Aimon would bend the knee for Lothair if he must.

Lance stepped forward and broke the unsettled silence. “Mon Seigneur Comte, I speak for all of us. We are loyal to you, as we have always been. If you wish us to re-pledge our allegiance to you, we will.”

Lothair settled himself back into his chair. “Very well. You will continue to serve me in whatever capacity I deem fit. Any misguided attempt to rescue your new alpha will fail. I know how to control your kind. I know how to neutralize your…werewolf side. Renaud has told me all about your weakness to wolfsbane and silver.”

---