Page 102 of The Wolf in My Tavern

I do feel a little pirate-ish, dressed in this garb.

“She needs a hat,” Lizbeth announces, turning to the captain, who stands a short distance away.

He raises both brows. “I didn’ ‘ave hats on order,” he says. “I be a ship’s cap’n, nah a hatter, wee lass.”

Lizbeth pouts. I have seen this pout a few times during our short acquaintance. It is a toss-up whether it gets her what she wants.

The captain sighs heavily, stalks over to a chest, throws it open, and rummages around.

He takes out… a proper captain’s hat, if a little squashed in places for being inside the chest. He dusts it off, pats out the kinks, and searches again, this time finding a crimson feather to garnish it.

“Thar,” he says, grinning as he hands it to me, and I put it on. “Happen, ye look the part. Ye be honorary cap’n.”

Arlo shakes his head. “Gray is going to rip them all off and spend a week scenting her.”

Lizbeth ignores him and claps her hands together. “Oh, you look wonderful,” she beams at me before addressing the captain. “Do you happen to have another hat for me in the chest?”

“Yer mates are waitin’,” the captain says, narrowing his eyes. “They be fearsome bastards, ’n I don’t wants t’ encourage thar wrath. Best we get ye on the boat ’n row ye out t’ shore.”

I didn’t particularly like the ship. I like the rowing boat less. Events over the last week have purged my memory, but now it all comes back as we rock back and forth on the waves as they row us to shore where Gray, Callum, Drake, and two new men wait, along with horses laden with supplies.

Gray growls the minute his eyes land on me.

A tic thumps in Callum’s jaw. “Gods,” he says. “I’ve never seen such a saucy outfit. Where did you get all this?”

“The captain,” I announce proudly before my smile drops, for I sense something is amiss. The wooden wharf is solid beneath my boots, yet it feels like the world tilts. “What has happened?”

To my left, the rowing boat is heading back toward the ship. They will sail on, bound for a deeper port further along the coast where they can dock and make repairs.

I want to shy away from whatever is in front of us, for I sense it is not good.

Drake steps forward and wraps his arms around Lizbeth, drawing her into his side. His eyes meet Arlo’s, and he places his hand on his shoulder. “Your father is dead,” he says to Arlo. “Canis attacked a few months ago.”

Arlo turns from Drake to Gray.

“Our pack has been taken,” Gray says. “The former members have been killed or scattered.”

“We’re going to claim it back,” Arlo demands, his eyes glistening as he takes in this terrible news.

The solemnity of the group is like a mournful cry in my mind.

“We will,” Gray says. “But they are holding former pack members hostage. We will need to free them first, and then, when they are safe, we will rain bloody hell upon those responsible, avenge our father, and reclaim our pack.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Ada

Ihave petted horses on occasion in the stables out the back of The Green Man, so I am at least familiar with them. But I have never ridden one.

Now I must ride upon one for days and into a war.

“I thought wolves would run everywhere,” I say.

“A pack of wolves running through a city would draw a lot of attention. Also, it is not easy to carry supplies as needed on such a trip,” Gray points out, which makes sense with hindsight.

Callum admits to knowing the basics, but not much more. He eyeballs the horse with the same mistrust as me.

“The lass will ride with me,” Gray announces.

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