Page 11 of The Wolf

The words were a relief for Scarlet to hear, but there was an edge to Arwen’s voice that stopped Scarlet from relaxing. She knew better than to imagine she’d gotten away with this. There would be a punishment for fighting back against Tarros—her stepmother would make sure of it.

What Scarletcouldbe relieved about was that Texel knew better than to argue against his alpha. In the middle of the tilled soil, still seconds away from shifting and full of sputtering rage, he had no choice but to snarl at Scarlet before storming toward the exit, his group of shifters following quickly behind him, along with the stretcher that contained what remained of his mangled, disgusting son.

She braced herself as he neared her. Scarlet stiffen when he spat in her face. She didn’t move as the spittle ran down her cheeks.

“Watch yourself,” Arwen called.

Texel grunted and stormed from the garden with his posse.

Only once everyone left did Arwen saunter toward Scarlet.

This was where the real danger lay.

“Such a crude weapon,” her stepmother mused. “Will you smite me with it, daughter?”

Scarlet blinked slowly as she realized she’d not yet dropped the hoe. She lowered it and bowed to Arwen. She flinched when the older woman cupped Scarlet’s chin and ran her hand along Scarlet’s hair. But she remained still, knowing better than to rise without permission.

“Tarros clearly touched something that wasn’t his,” Arwen crooned, the touch on Scarlet’s scalp almost motherly where Texel’s had been brutal. Almost affectionate. Almost kind. All lies. “So it was only karma that he should be attacked so. Stand.”

Scarlet knew that wasn’t the end of things. She never got off unscathed. Slowly, she rose and braced herself for the punishment that was to come. It wasn’t a surprise when Arwen slapped Scarlet across her face, on the opposite cheek from the one Texel had hit. Her ears rang, teeth clacked together, and she tasted blood. She rocked back on her heels but didn’t otherwise move. Arwen’s predatory side was always ignited when she sensed weakness.

“What were you doing in the forest?” Arwen demanded, her face all cold angles and suspicion. “Tarros stinks of you. You were there with him. Were you whoring yourself, daughter?”

“Never, my lady,” Scarlet replied softly, keeping her eyes lowered as her right one began to swell shut. “A lady should never debase herself wantonly.”

“So you do remember my words.”

“I remember all your words.”

“Indeed. So you know how I feel about deceit.” Arwen circled Scarlet, brushing a piece of dirt from her bruised cheek. “Tell me what happened.”

“I was foraging,” Scarlet said, which was the truth. “And then he attacked me.” This was also the truth. But here was where Scarlet had to lie, to a woman who could not really be lied to. But if there was one thing Scarlet had learned through the years it was how to bend the truth here and there to avoid the worst of her stepmother’s wrath.

Her stepmother crooked a finger underneath Scarlet’s chin and forced her to look up. They locked eyes. Arwen’s were as dark as pitch.

Maintaining eye contact, Scarlet said, “I managed to wound him and escape. I don’t want to imagine what he would have done to me if I hadn’t slipped out of his grasp. I meant no disrespect to your warrior, my lady.”

For a long moment the two women stared at each other, Scarlet praying that Arwen wouldn’t discover her deception. Her stepmother seemed to be deciding if she was lying.

After what seemed like an eternity, the woman pinched Scarlet’s cheek—it smarted horribly from where she’d been hit —and a slow, lovely smile spread across Arwen’s face.

“Such a good girl,” Arwen said. “You got away from him. I’m proud of you. You must know that no one can have you but me.” A small frown pursed her full lips as she scanned Scarlet’s face. “Do clean yourself up. You’re a mess. You’re a reflection of myself. I can’t have you looking like we beat you, can I?”

“As you say, my lady.”

“Excellent.” Her stepmother glanced at the tilled ground. “Now finish your work here. You need to till the blood into the earth before it gets cold.” Her smile became a wicked grin. “It makes the poisons that much sweeter.”

FIVE

BRINE

The middle of the afternoon found Brine once more negotiating with a group of bloody pirates in the bowels of their ship. His nostrils flared wide as he exhaled the stale salt air. The negotiation had gone on far too long. Plus, Chesh was playing a dangerous game of insulting the pirates to see how far he could push them. He was on Brine’s last nerve.

They were there to trade goods and information. Nothing more. He hated wasting time.

“We’ve been going back and forth on this for an hour now,” Brine growled impatiently, his ears twitching atop his head. “You wouldn’t even be talking with us if you weren’t willing to trade for the diamonds in your possession. I’m done. Stop wasting our time and tell us what you actually want.”

“Very well, then,” the captain said, a short man with a balding head. He licked his lips nervously. “I suppose there’s no point now in dancing around the subject.”

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