Page 54 of Their Cursed Wolves

Surprise flashes in his eyes. “Our females are often great warriors and great mothers. I’m surprised that witches aren’t able to balance those things better. As my mother always said, you leave your claws on the battlefield.”

I shrug. “Some of the witches are better at balancing it. Just not my mother.”

My gaze slides to the wolves. Instead of looking upset, they look curious. That’s a surprise. With how little they’ve spoken to me, I expected that they had little interest in getting to know me. And that didn’t bother me, until now.

Next to them, Lady Scarlet gives me a little smile. She seems to be enjoying this whole conversation, although I’m not sure why. None of the other wolves are.

Why does it bother me now?

Garrick nods, encouraging me to continue. “And your life before coming here? What was it like?”

“Different.” I admit, struggling over what to say. “Lots of classes. Lots of training.” Lots of jeering and being a disappointment.

“Do you miss it?” he asks, resting his elbow on the table.

“No. I don’t.” Which is strange to admit out loud.

Garrick and the three princes stare at me.

I shrug. “It wasn’t great.”

“Bears train for battle, but we also spend a lot of time with our friends and family. Love ones always come first.”

I laugh. “That’s definitely not the witch way.”

“I see,” he says, his expression interested. “And do you prefer their way?”

My nose wrinkles. “Not at all.” I think. “Whenever I’ve pictured having kids, I’ve always wanted them to have a happy home surrounded by people who love them. Not who view them just as weapons of power that need to be sharpened to a deadly point.”

He smiles. “I agree with you there. It seems we have a lot in common.”

Do we? The notion is strange. Wisp and Baldemar were the only people I’ve ever had anything in common with, and Wisp isn’t exactly a person, and Blademar is a much older man. I think I like knowing I have something in common with one of my husbands.

I don’t even know how the others feel about children and family. Even though I try to stop myself, I glance over at them. All three are following the conversation closely, but they don’t join in. It’s disappointing. How is it that I’m just now realizing that they should be trying to talk to me? They should be sharing information about themselves.

I thought Lady Scarlet was an anomaly in how she treated me with such kindness, but Garrick is making me question even that. Garrick has already asked me more questions about myself than all three of the wolves have since I’ve been here. As we continue talking, I can’t help but notice the palpable annoyance of the princes at our easy banter.

My spine stiffens. My mind feels clear in a way it hasn’t since coming here. I don’t care that the wolves are finally seeing the fact that they’ve neglected me every time Garrick engages with me and gives me more adoring attention. I think it might be good for them to see that a man might be kinder to me than they’ve been.

Hell, it’s good for me to see it.

And I don’t care that they’re learning about me second-hand, having missed out on the opportunity to do it on their own and see that I am a fully fleshed out person, and not just a symbol of an alliance or a tool to fix their problem. It sucks to be them.

“What are you great at, Tara?” Garrick asks with a smile.

This is a good question. One that I feel most comfortable talking about. I grab my drink and take a big swig, reveling in the burn as it goes down my throat. I clear my throat. “Metal. I’m good at metal. It speaks to me, and I use my magic to transform it.”

“Really? What exactly does that mean?” he asks, intrigued.

Intrigued. He’s actually interested in what I have to say.

“It means I’m a magical blacksmith, I suppose.” The explanation feels right. Good.

Garrick seems impressed with this, and I’m feeling relaxed enough to start eating my dinner. Conversation picks up around me, and it’s strange – this is one of the few times since coming here that I feel like I actually belong. My eyes prick a little. It might be the first time that I’ve ever felt like I belong… anywhere. And all it took was a little kindness.

Then he clears his throat. “If it’s not too bold, do you mind if I ask how you got those marks on your chest?”

“From one of your bears,” Prince Drogo hisses.

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