Page 28 of The Wolf

Two people, on their hands and knees on either side of her stepmother, acting as side tables.

She jolted and quickly masked her expression as she recognized the couple.

Abel and Riia. The human-shifter couple whose child she had helped.

Nausea slammed into her and she almost wavered on her feet.

“You called for me?” Scarlet asked politely.

Her stepmother smiled broadly. With a click of her fingers, Riia on her left-hand side raised her head. Arwen squished the woman’s cheeks together, forcing her mouth open. There was an angry, dark, bloody gash where the woman’s tongue had been removed. Bile burned the back of Scarlet’s throat and she blinked back tears.

“I have a job for you, Red,” Arwen said, “and this time I have no need for that softness of yours interfering with my plans.”

Scarlet wanted nothing more than to rush forward, to knock her stepmother to the side and help Riia, who had been rendered speechless. Instead, she stood stock-still, as still as Bright standing behind her, and allowed Arwen to continue talking.

Like a coward.

“There are consequences for your actions, child,” Arwen crooned into the terrified face of Riia. “You must know by now that you are not the one who’s punished when you hide and abet criminals like those in Merjeri. So I will only tell you this once: do not fail my next mission, or the child will suffer next.”

Her blood turned icy.

She’d never fooled Arwen. Her stepmother had eyes and ears everywhere.

Feeling just as incapable of speech as the woman without her tongue, Scarlet mutely nodded her obedience.

“Leave my sight.”

Woodenly, Scarlet stumbled from the gazebo before her stepmother could see a single tear shed from her eyes.

TWELVE

BRINE

Ensuring the new duchess of Merjeri, Robyn, returned home safely was not an easy task.

Even when they reached the manor—which Brine had learned on the road was not even Robyn’s intended residence now that she had become duchess—he couldn’t relax. The manor had been attacked no fewer than three times in as many days, and now Brine was panting and sweating through his fourth dispatch of intruders.

His grandmother’s agents were relentless.

He didn’t give himself long enough to notice if he recognized any of the wolves attacking the place, though he could do nothing to prevent his nose recognizing the scent of familiar wolves, men and women he’d trained with as a child and young man, wolves who might have been his friends once. Now they were just more foes to vanquish by teeth or by sword.

Brine had lost two men to the attacks on the manor, which could have been worse. Yet even so, there was a lingering sadness for losing any men at all. Brine had admittedly also thought—going against the creatures who had once been his pack—that he would feel sorry fortheirdeaths, but all he felt was disgust and disappointment. Had a single one of them ever possessed a backbone? An ounce of integrity? They all easily fell under the heel of his grandmother. Of Old Mother. They knew what she was doing but instead of rising up against it they were facilitating her. Could they really be so ignorant to what Old Mother, along with deplorable men like the late duke of Merjeri, had wrought over the country? Brine could not believe they were so in the dark. But if they weren’t in the dark, that meant they were complicit, and Brine knew his disgust was well placed.

The sound of a horn blasted through the air as Brine cut down his last opponent. The other wolves retreated into the woods.

He wiped the sweat from his brow and stared hard at the forest as he signaled for his men to turn back. It was no use to chase after them. They’d be long gone after they shifted. Brine scanned his soldiers and frowned at one of the younger men, who looked to be no older than fifteen.

“Go see a healer about that arm,” Brine commanded, nodding at the young recruit, a promising cat shifter who had been recommended by Chesh, no less. It always surprised Brine when the cat had a good idea, or a good recommendation, even though almost all of them were great. There was something about him that suggested Chesh was constantly trying to make a fool of Brine just for the sake of it.

He smiled at the thought of his friend and realized he missed him. And Pyre, and Briggs, and Tempest. After weeks at sea and even now, commanding a small group of loyal men, Brine felt alone. Once more he thought of how he’d been missing home, and wondered if the two were connected.

His band of men tromped back to the manor and Brine followed them. He watched as one of the older men greeted his wife at the entrance of the manor, then scooped up his young child into his arms.

Brine stared at them, a flicker of emotion in his chest.

At one time, he’d despised anyone settling down, but now…

I want that. Brine wanted a mate and children. A place to put down roots and put down his sword.

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