Page 58 of Wolf Caged
“Traders, from the mountains and mines of the Shadow Court,” Jenavyr said beside me. “The goblins bring foraged goods from the western woods, such as mushrooms and herbs, as well as a fine brew that bears the royal seal. The dwarves are responsible for running the royal mines as well as several quarries. Many of their ancestors worked on the castle. They are great stone masons. Their artistry and skill are second to none, and you can see many of their carvings on the façade of the castle, around the doors and windows.”
I turned to tell her how fascinating this world was, and stopped dead.
Two large shirtless males carrying big wooden boxes and loading them onto the back of a cart captured and held my gaze.
They towered at least seven foot tall, with broad muscled bodies, and legs like tree trunks packed into worn thick leather trousers. Rather than feet, they had large black hooves, and instead of having a humanoid head, they resembled bulls, complete with glossy horns. One even had a gold ring through his nose.
Minotaurs!
There were actual minotaurs in this world, walking around and working just like the fae, goblins and dwarves, as if they were nothing out of the ordinary. I was tempted to blink and scrub my eyes to make sure I wasn’t imagining them. One of them caught me staring and huffed, his nostrils flaring, and I dragged my eyes away from him, feeling incredibly rude.
Jenavyr chuckled softly beside me. “You look like you just saw your first minotaur.”
“I did.” I turned on her, my eyes wide. “We don’t exactly get many minotaurs in my world. They’d kind of stand out.”
Her fine black eyebrows rose. “I suppose. I would imagine you do not see many like them either.”
She subtly nodded towards something.
I looked there and every inch of me locked up tight.
“By the gods,” I breathed low, “what are those?”
They were the creepiest thing I had ever seen. They dwarfed the minotaurs as they moved in a stilted fashion up the road towards me, tattered black robes writhing like shadows across the cobbles. Thorny vines wrapped around their thin bodies, pinning the layers of their robes in place, and formed into a thick sweeping high collar from their chest to the back of their deer-skull heads. From their antlers, tinkling silver charms and threads of crystals swayed.
“They are—” Jenavyr cut off, going rigid beside me, and I feared these foul creatures had cast some kind of spell on her, my eyes darting to her as the warmth in the atmosphere turned frosty.
She stared beyond them.
I looked there, at the handsome blond male who stepped from what appeared to be a tavern, the muted sunlight catching on the metallic royal blue embroidered edges of his fine black tunic. He said something as he looked back into the tavern, waving his hand in a regal way as he dipped into a bow, and smiled in a way that made me feel someone had been teasing him and that bow had been mocking.
His deep blue eyes swung our way and the easy smile that had been gracing his lips dropped away.
He jogged down the steps and right over to us, passing the deer-skull-headed creatures as if they were nothing at all to be concerned about.
“Jenavyr. What brings you out of the castle?” His accent was muddied, but I thought I detected a hint of Irish among the blend of English and something else. His gaze landed on me. “And who is this? A new recruit?”
“None of your business.” Jenavyr’s tone had lost all warmth and her expression gained a glacial edge. “I am merely escorting her around town, and that is all you need to know.”
I was sorely tempted to inch away from the firing line of whatever bad blood existed between her and this newcomer.
“Come now, Vyr. You leave for days, skulking off to the western reaches, and now you return in an even fouler mood?” He reached a hand out towards her.
She shot it a withering look that had it halting before it could touch her. “What have I said about calling me that, Riordan?”
Riordan shrugged. “Not to call you it. But it’s fine for Kaeleron and Oberon to call you it, and hell, even Mal can use itbut by the gods… how dare I call you Vyr, right? I’ve only known you for what… a century?”
“Longer. Believe me. I am aware of every day I have had the displeasure of your company.”
His face darkened. There was definitely bad blood here, but as I glanced at Jenavyr, I swore her frostiness had nothing to do with his presence or her dislike of him. Her gaze kept darting to the tavern he had exited.
Riordan folded his arms, causing his tunic to pull tight across honed biceps, and a flicker of red emerged around his pupils.
Every instinct I possessed as a wolf shifter warned me to back away, to bare fangs at this male and keep my distance from him, because he wasn’t a fae.
He was a vampire.
One who walked beneath the twilight sun as if it was nothing.
