Page 76 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
“Dream on,” I said, earning me an elbow to the stomach.
“Anyway, how is our dear Callum these days?” Rory asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Still licking Mother’s boots?”
“From what I hear, worse than ever,” Isla rolled her eyes. “He’s practically her shadow now. Reports everything back to her. Every conversation, every slight, every perceived challenge to her authority. It’s pathetic.”
I sneaked a glance at Callum. He was pretending to listen to Alex, but his gaze was now fixed on Isla with an intensity that bordered on uncomfortable.
“Also…” Isla said, her voice dropping to a disgusted whisper. “Three times since I moved to Edinburgh Callum has ‘accidentally’ run into me. It’s ridiculous.”
“What do you mean?” Rory asked. “Has he got a thing for you or something?”
“Thing?” Isla scoffed. “More like an obsession. Last Christmas he got drunk and cornered me in the library with mistletoe.”
Rory sniggered. “Sorry. Poor you. God, I’m glad to have one friend here.”
Isla’s expression shifted. “You know,” she said very quietly. “I’ve really missed you these past five years.”
Rory’s face softened immediately. “Isla—”
“No, I mean it,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “I barely come back here anymore. Maybe twice a year, if that. Christmas and Midsummer, and even then only because Dad guilts me into it. I hate it here. The constant politics, the way everyone watches everyone else, waiting for someone to step out of line. The way they all bow to Edina like she’s some sort of goddess. The way peoplestilllike to gossip about Mum’s death even though it was seven years ago.”
Rory reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. I should have stayed in touch better. I just… I couldn’t bear any connection to this place.”
“Don’t apologise,” Isla said firmly. “You were brave to leave. Braver than I’ve ever been. You were the smart one,” she said, looking directly at Rory. “Getting out when you did. Making your own life.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” I said gently. “But Isla, Edina knew my full name, and title. Even though we never told a soul. Do you know how?”
Green eyes widened. “Well, she wouldn’t have let you through the gate if she didn’t know who you were.” She cocked her head. “Who are you?”
Before I could respond, the sharp sound of glasses clinking cut through the room. A hush fell immediately.
“Dinner is served,” a voice announced from the doorway.
We followed the procession through to another grand room, dominated by a long table that must have seated more than twenty, though not every place was set. Relief washed through me when Alexander and Isla took seats vaguely opposite us.
An elderly woman with elegant grey braids wrapped in colourful fabric settled beside Alexander, introducing herself as Nessa Okonkwo. Her eyes lingered on me with unmistakable curiosity.
“Theodore Maxwell,” I replied, offering my hand.
“We sorarely entertain humans at our table. Especially Detective Inspectors.”
She said my title like it was a joke that amused her. I gritted my teeth. These people were determined to make me feel as uncomfortable as possible, and it was working.
Throughout the first course—a blood-rare venison carpaccio that turned my stomach—my telepathy reached out tentatively. Wisps ofsomethingfloated from the nearest wolves before their minds snapped shut, sensing the intrusion. Their sustained mental defence impressed me.
Alexander’s thoughts remained open, whether by choice or ignorance of my abilities. Nothing juicy filtered through—just concerns about rearranged work meetings and hopes of escaping the pack run later.
I still couldn’t believe Rory hadn’t flat-out refused his mother’s request. Hopefully he understood that he wouldn’t be leaving my sight at any point, especially not to run off into the wilderness with the family that broke him.
The second course arrived—more meat, this time a barely seared rack of lamb. I eyed my fork on the way to my mouth. Was this even safe for me to eat? Or even, could the food be poisoned?
I pushed the lamb around my plate, trying to locate anything green. “Do all wolves have something against vegetables?” I joked, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. “Or is this just Scottish cuisine?”
Nessa’s laughter cut through the tension. “Our diet does tend toward protein, Detective. Especially before a run.” Her dark eyes twinkled with amusement. “Some of the game tonight is fresh meat that we caught on a recent hunt.”
“In the estate?”
“And the general Highlands.” Her smile tightened almost imperceptibly. “We do leave our prison. For short periods.”
