Page 92 of Wolf's Bane
“I can’t believe how much of the old world was covered in water,” Solenne said.
“And why are you huddled around my desk?”
Alek snatched a pencil and a blank sheet of paper off the desk. “I’m writing the address for our new home in Snowmelt. Despite popular opinion, the post does run.”
“Well, hurry. Our guests are waiting,” Chambers said.
Aleksandar
This house. Something about it made his skin crawl. Heavy drapes cut off the light and fresh air, giving the house a suffocating feel. Weapons of destruction had been strewn about like toys. Servants moved quietly, each footstep made with such care like they were afraid to make a noise. They might as well have been ghosts.
All because of Chambers.
He disliked the man, and not just over the rivalry for Solenne’s affections. That had never been a contest. Her heart had always belonged to him, even when they both tried to deny it.
No, his dislike stemmed from something more nebulous and difficult to pinpoint. Something about how he moved, too graceful for a man who claimed an injury ended his military career. Or perhaps how he watched Solenne and Charlotte as they descended the staircase to greet the wedding guests. His eyes were too hungry. Alek recognized the look because it stared back at him from a mirror often enough.
Too many people crowded downstairs. There was too much noise and heat.
“Is that Vervain?TheVervain? Colonel Chambers, how did you find that?” Luis stood in front of a rather tired-looking long sword with a dull blade, rusted at the hilt.
“Drink. Enjoy. You’re a lucky man,” Chambers said, handing Alek a glass of wine before answering Luis. “One of my first pieces. The old man I bought it from claimed it to be so. I thought it was a fine example of early craftsmanship, if a bit worse for wear. I’m afraid I’m a bit sentimental for the old thing.”
Luis made appreciative noises and pointed out features to Miles. The blacksmith held his own glass of wine and nodded, seemingly as interested in the antique longsword as Luis.
“I only wish Charlotte looked at me with half the devotion Solenne looks at you,” Chambers said.
The women in question were standing at the foot of the stairs. Apparently, everyone in the village came and had to share words with the brides. Jase Parkell hobbled with the use of a crutch, his mother at his side. Mrs. Parkell had a pinched look on her face, but she always did.
Jase looked over his shoulder, as if he wanted to escape. Alek couldn’t blame the man. The few days on the road he spent with the woman had been too many.
Charlotte smiled graciously. She was pretty with her curls and a laugh that drifted above the noise of the crowd, but she paled to Solenne. Everyone did.
“From the way you look at Solenne, I see the affection is mutual,” Chambers said.
“It’s more than affection,” Alek said, speaking before he could guess himself. “She’s always been my anchor. When I knew no one, she was my friend. When my family had been killed, she told me I was not alone. She’s the bedrock of my existence. My purpose. My heart. Without her, I am nothing.” Alek frowned at the glass in his hands. Wine rarely loosened his tongue.
“I must confess. I am jealous of the devotion between you. I had hoped—”
“Do not tell me you regret your marriage,” Alek said in a sudden swell of protectiveness for the woman. He hardly knew Charlotte Wodehouse—Chambers—and could not account for it. “Charlotte may not shine as brightly as the sun, but she’s a good person. A bit too kind-hearted, if you ask me, but that’s not a flaw. Do not treat her poorly. I would not take kindly to that.” He frowned, both at repeating the word kind and at his threat.
“What I do with my wife is no concern of yours,” Chambers said. “You’ll barely be able to keep your bride from freezing or starving this winter. I tried to convince her otherwise, but Solenne has this stubborn attachment to you.” His tone made it sound like an infection.
“It’s a bond between souls.”
Damn this wine.He set down the glass on the nearest surface.
“I know very well it’s a bond, and I’m not fool enough to break it.” Chambers’ voice was nearly a growl. He paused, smoothing the front of his waistcoat. A placid smile replaced his disgruntled expression. “Did you find anything interesting when you were rummaging through my study?”
He watched Alek keenly for a response.
“Couldn’t get the drawer open,” Alek said with a shrug. The lie came easily.
“Charlotte’s idea, I imagine. She’s too curious for her own good. Well, I guess I’ll introduce my bride to her first taste of discipline a little sooner than planned.”
Alek disliked everything about the man, from his superior tone, the waistcoat with embroidered bluebirds, and the way he licked his lips when he spoke of punishing his wife.
“Do not hurt Charlotte,” Alek said, because an injury to Charlotte was an injury to Solenne. The warning sprang from more than a protective instinct. The thought this vile man desired Solenne, wanted to put his hands on her and would take pleasure from inflicting pain—
