Page 20 of The Wolf Queen

That mop of curly hair, dark brown with flecks of bronze and gold in it, the gleaming highlights mirrored in the colour of his eyes. And what eyes! The messenger had a smirk on his face that seemed not in keeping with his role and his plain livery, but his eyes were what captured my attention. Golden, like a newly minted coin, they would’ve struck almost anyone as unusual. Several of the men around the table reacted to the stranger, muttering and shifting to their feet, though I wasn’t sure if it was his attitude or the uncertain nature of his mission which gave them cause for concern.

“Who the hell are you to march into a duke’s keep without so much as a by-your-leave?” Dane snapped, hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Rake… sir.” The simple honorific was hastily tacked on as the man sketched the briefest of bows. “And by whose authority? The highest in the land.” He produced a scroll with a flourish from within his doublet, but rather than offer it to Dane, he stepped forward and handed it to me with another bow, this one much deeper and sustained.

“You have a message for my father?” I asked, trying to remember how to school my voice to sound like a proper Granian lady again.

“Not your father, milady,” Rake corrected, a quirk to his full lips. He held my gaze, even as he stayed bent over. “Every noblewoman in the country has been summoned to court. The king is on his deathbed and, with Crown Prince Bryson still unwed, all women of noble birth are being asked to present themselves at court to find our next queen.”

Chapter14

“If you go down to the kitchens, my people will give you food and water while I read this message,” I told Rake after I had taken the scroll.

He bowed again, then turned and did as I’d instructed, yet I had the strong feeling that the messenger wasn’t doing anything other than that which he wished to do. There wasn’t a submissive bone in his body. Once the man was gone, my mates clustered to my side.

“Who the hell was that? And what business does the Crown Prince have with you?” Weyland demanded.

“Perhaps it would be wise of Darcy to answer the call,” General Rath said and several other of the lords nodded along.

“For what reason?” Gael’s voice was as sharp as a keenly honed blade. “Darcy is our mate—”

“And she could use this… gathering as a means to get close to Grania’s crown prince,” Lord Berrick said. “Not to marry the interloper, but to use her abilities to gift us what we need.”

His plan was a cunning one and tantalising for its simplicity, except its success was entirely dependent on my ability to bring the crown prince to heel.

“Is the crown prince a devotee of the dread lord?” I asked Higgins.

“Word is he’s sympathetic,” he replied, “though I couldn’t be sure. That information is pretty far above my pay grade, but I could put out some feelers once we get to the capital.”

Aramathia. Not just the capital, but the seat of the royal court. It was the custom of every northern duke to take his daughter to the capital as soon as she was of marriageable age. She’d be introduced to high society to hopefully draw the eye of a powerful and advantageous suitor. It was how my mother met my father. But not every duke’s daughter was presented at court. Linnea had complained loudly and bitterly when that opportunity wasn’t given to me, until my father pointed at me. As soon as she took one look at my slovenly attire and the weapons strapped to my hips, her eyes had narrowed just as Father rolled his.

But for me to go there now, ostensibly to join the matchmaking exercise?

Rake couldn’t leave the keep alive if I chose not to go—no one could know of my refusal—but… We’d intended to find a way to the capital, to gain access to the king and try to persuade, plead, cajole or force him to pit his army against Callum’s forces, to try and use the same soldiers that had subdued the Strelans of yore to crush Callum now, but… I pulled the ribbon free and read the scroll.

“What does it say?” Weyland asked, looking over my shoulder. “Lady Darcy of Elverston, you are summoned…”

His voice fell away as he took note of what it said. I read the contents, knowing what my answer had to be. I was struck by a strange feeling of dissonance—as if two different Darcys had to co-exist together at the same time. When I’d left the keep, I’d left a whole other side of myself behind, burned her when I threw my stays in the fire. And it was as though now I was being asked to put back on the sooty remnants of my former constrictive life. I took one breath and then another, though my heart was still beating too fast as I struggled to accept what I must do.

“I have to go.”

“Darcy, no—” Gael started to say.

“I just asked my father to write and ask for the exact thing that this message tells me I must do,” I said, waving the scroll in front of me. “In some ways this will make the process easier. The king knows of me, knows of my relationship to you four. It really shouldn’t be an issue if I walk into court with four wargen warriors at my side—because the king sold me to them for iron.” Gael flinched at my words and I stepped forward, a hand outstretched toward him. “That’s not howIview things but…”

“She’s right.” Rath’s face took on a grim cast as he broke in with his pronouncement. “You know she’s right. Highnesses…”

“Well, if that’s the way it’s to be,” Dane said, that cold mask back in place, “then we will go to the capital in a manner befitting the sovereign of Strelae, with an honour guard, handpicked to keep our queen safe.”

They would protect me with their lives, I had no doubt in that. But as they discussed the details, arguing over who was best to go with me, I moved quietly to the edge of the room, then swiftly made my way downstairs.

The kitchen had always been my safe place—that and the stables. Linnea hadn’t liked to sully herself by going into either place and so I was out from under her keen eye. So, being back in the keep, and feeling overwhelmed, I had revisited old habits by going to ground where I felt secure. But when I walked in, there he was.

Rake.

He was sitting at the same prep bench we’d sat at yesterday, munching on a bread roll stuffed with corned beef, cheese and pickled onions and complimenting Flora like he was the one who was lord of the manor rather than my father. I drew up next to him with no fanfare, simply glaring down at the man until he registered I was standing beside him.

“Lady—” he started to say.

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