Page 12 of With Fangs and Claws (The Wolf Queen 1)

Chapter 6

“What are you doing, child, lazing the day away?” Linnea’s shrewish voice intruded into my sleep. “Those beasts have been locked up with your father all day, hammering out the deal, and now they’ve requested your presence for dinner.”

I opened my eyes to see her looming over me, but as I threw my legs over the side of the bed she was forced to step back as I got to my feet. Linnea looked… smaller for some reason and frailer. As I stared at her, the lines around her eyes and mouth from a lifetime of frowning, were suddenly apparent.

“And what’s this around your mouth? Have you been gorging—?”

My hand whipped out, grasping her wrist when she went to reach out and wipe at something. Her words froze in her throat. Her eyes widened, then narrowed as my tongue flicked out, sweeping away what was left of Weyland’s blood. I smiled then, an expression as sharp as my dagger, before I moved over to my dressing table and sat down. Working quickly, I repinned my hair, managing to make myself look less ravished in a few moments before I tightened my stays again. I smoothed my hands over my ribs and hips, checking that my dress didn’t look too rumpled before turning back to my governess.

“Where?” I said.

“What?”

“Where am I dining with the wargen?” I asked.

“In His Grace’s private dining room,” she replied, looking me over more closely, as if she too saw something different in me. “You’re to serve and—”

“Amuse them. I know. Contrary to what you think, I’m not a fool.”

And with that, I swept out of my room and into the hall before going down a flight of steps to the family dining room. When I arrived at the doorway, each man stood, Father smiling at me with real warmth for once. I sketched a curtsey in response, one not deep enough or for long enough to be entirely polite, but I couldn’t seem to care. I sauntered in, grabbing the closest ewer of wine, and then smiled at them.

“Can I pour you a drink, Your Highnesses?”

Dane smiled slowly at my simpering tone, pushing his pewter goblet across the table so I might fill it. I moved around, doing the same for each one of them, though I was forced to retrieve Gael’s myself. He barely glanced my way, hunched over his plate like the animal he was. I filled it anyway and set it pointedly by his side.

“And once you’ve poured your father a drink, you’ll join us for one, won’t you?” Dane asked smoothly.

“Women drinking?” Father said. “Nothing good can come of that. My daughter is no tavern slattern.” But even as the words were out of his mouth, he seemed to regret them. This might be received wisdom in our part of the world, but the princes were not from here. “Though if you wish it, Darcy could probably stomach a glass of watered wine.”

“I do,” Dane replied. “I see that this is a tradition here, of having the women of the house serve the men, but things are very different in Strelae.”

Father’s eyes hardened at that. According to the clergy, men were given dominion over women by the gods themselves, but this was something that those on either side of the border disagreed with vociferously. From what Nordred had said, Strelan society was much more matriarchal, which seemed an odd way to do things.

I tried to imagine it, having the right to take a seat at the table, to contribute to conversations just like the men did. Anywhere else in the keep, as long as I was out from under Linnea’s thumb, I could do just that, with no one to naysay me, due to my rank. But with Father? He didn’t seem to care if I actually was biddable, just that I appeared to be so in forums where he might potentially be embarrassed.

“I would like the Lady Darcy to join us for dinner,” Dane said. “She can sit by us, participate in the conversation and hopefully become accustomed to our presence before we ride out for Strelae.”

“After we’ve hammered out the deal for the ore,” Father said with an unseemly tenacity, but I couldn’t blame him. The king would reward him richly if he managed to successfully broker the deal, yet his prospects were so much poorer if he didn’t.

“Of course,” Dane replied. “When everything is signed, sealed and delivered, we will take our leave of you, with your daughter in tow.”

I sat down then, not because I wished to accede to the wargen’s wishes, but from a growing sense of unreality. I remembered Kris’ words then, the feel of his lips on my knuckles, causing my fingers to flex automatically, as if he’d just left the room.

“Women are often dull conversationalists, but, as you are my guests, I can hardly say no to your request. Come, Darcy, sit near your affianced.”

He didn’t realise that was all of them, but Dane stood up and pulled out the chair beside him, waiting for me to take it. As I moved to sit down, the warg tucked the chair underneath me, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders for a second before he sat down himself.

“Let me pour you some wine,” he said, pulling over the ewer and a new goblet. He put it before me, half filling it, then adding water when Father grunted.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” I said when Father stared at me.

“Well, what should we speak of?” Father said, irritation at least partially apparent in his voice. “Of needlework and the latest hair styling?”

“Perhaps we could speak of hunting,” Axe said with a slow smile. “The deer we stumbled across was an impressive specimen.”

Father instantly brightened at that.

“So he was, but not more so than many we have shot down while on the hunt. My gamekeepers maintain healthy stocks on my land. Which reminds me, I’ll need to bring that ‘hunter’ to their attention. If they scuttled away from their kill, they were probably bloody poachers. What did the fool look like?”

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