Page 51 of The Wolf in My Tavern

He is lying to her, hiding his nature, wooing her under false pretenses.

How will she react?

Does she already see signs of his nature when they rut…? Fuck, I will not think about that now.

Drake’s words play heavily upon my mind. He is convinced the lad doesn’t even know. Maybe I should’ve done more for him, and coached Callum regarding what he will become.

Does that make me a selfish bastard to walk away?

I only know helping him would bring me more pain than my wolf could bear.

After a restless night, dawn breaks, and I throw aside my covers and pad over to the window. It has snowed heavily during the night. The rooftops are white, while the cobble streets are lumpy with snow that poorly disguises the mud and slush left by the passage of carts and people.

The ship is due to arrive at noon. Word came in last evening that it was sighted and anchored off the coast. Another ship, The Minstrel, is similarly anchored offshore. A long boat waits away from the main wharf, with crew ready to take us back to said ship with passage to our homelands, far to the south of here.

At least, that is the plan.

I feel so fucking weary, as if a year’s worth of searching has suddenly caught up with me. And even as I acknowledge my own situation, I need only reflect upon my younger brother and the woman I agreed to mate.

My challenges are inconsequential compared to theirs.

As the weak sunlight fights against the heavy, snow-filled clouds, I sense the change in the air.

My mind turns inward, taking me far from here, back to a distant land, thickly forested, where my soul belongs.

I do not often pray to the Goddess, but I seek her guidance today.

Ada

Somehow, I get up and go about my day. But all the while, guilt assails me—guilt for what I have done. There is no taking it back. I have been foolish. Worse, I have betrayed the man that I supposedly love.

There is no supposing about it—I love Callum. What happened was merely a mistake, one that I will take with me to the grave. That is my penance.

I need to get my thoughts straight before I can see Callum, so I scrub every nook and cranny of The Green Man until my fingers are raw.

“What are you doing, lass?” Betsy asks. “You have been scrubbing all morning. The tavern has never looked so spic and span.”

“I had trouble sleeping,” I admit. “And needed a distraction.”

Her face immediately softens. “Oh, lass, I am sorry. You could have come and talked to me.”

Now I feel guilty all over again that she assumes there is a righteous reason for my vigorous scrubbing when, in fact, the answer is not one I am proud of. I drop the scrubbing brush back into the bucket of water and straighten up, rubbing my sore back. “Do you think your father would let us nip to the market? I wanted to get a ribbon for… the wedding.”

Her face breaks out into a smile. “Of course he would. Let’s go right now.”

Her enthusiasm is infectious, putting a smile back on my face. I can do this. I can find that joyful place again, put this foolishness aside, and remember how lucky I am to have Callum in my life.

I take the bucket and scrub brush out the back, and tip the water away. Then I set them to dry on the cobbles before gathering my cloak from the hook. When I return to the tavern, Betsy is talking to Tim.

“Enjoy yourself, lasses,” Tim says, with a broad smile. “It’s not long until the wedding, now.”

“Thank you, Tim. It is!”

Betsy slips her arm through mine. We head outside into the snow.

There was a time when I hated how the snow found the gaps in my poorly mended shoes and made my toes cold. Now, courtesy of kind neighbors, I have new boots and a thick cloak that protects me from the winter weather. While my cheeks and nose are soon chilly, the rest of me is warm.

I smile—one that finally feels genuine.

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