Page 106 of With Fangs and Claws (The Wolf Queen 1)

Chapter 42

My skin began to prickle when Selene brought out the headdresses. I caught sight of the grey fur, saw the gleam of white skulls and stiffened. I must’ve done so in a significant way, because some of the women standing beside cast me a sidelong look, then Malia turned around.

“Are we really including an outlander in this ceremony?” she asked in a sharp voice. “The Granian doesn’t even believe in the Maiden.”

No, but I’d seen her. I watched the blonde-haired woman don her headdress, the skull of the wolf fitting on her head so the top jaw hung over her eyes, then she fluffed the fur so it lay over her shoulders and I knew then what this was. As if in confirmation of this, I heard a low chuckle in my ear, but when I turned around to find the source of it, everyone was suitably solemn faced.

“The queen herself ordered Darcy to participate in the rite,” Selene said. “So, if you have any questions about that, I suggest you bring them to Her Majesty. Now, the dance, as most of you know, is supposed to represent the first time the Maiden aspect of the triple goddess went hunting. She is the one our two souls come from, and we pay homage to her in this ritual. I needn’t remind you that keeping your beast under control during the performance is important. It is natural to feel her pushing to the surface, wanting out. What we’re doing conjures her in a way. We become the Maiden, hunting for what she wants, what she needs, in the world. For some of you, it will be a festival mate, a bond that lasts only as long as the rite itself.”

“And will the princes be participating in the rite this time?” a blonde-haired girl asked. She slid a look at me over her shoulder, her lips curved into a nasty smile. “They were always the best prey to ‘hunt’ on festival night.”

Selene just shook her head slowly, her jaw flexing before she continued.

“That remains to be seen. But what you should be concerned about is how many of you will be chosen to participate.”

“What? But my father—”

“I was sent—”

“I am part of—”

“Stop.” Selene didn’t raise her voice, just holding out a hand and waiting for silence, which came quickly. “I don’t give a damn about who your parents are or how important you are back in the castle. You’re in my house now. I am the pack leader. I decide who participates and who doesn’t, and your parents can kiss my bloody arse if they have a problem with that. This is one part of your lives where the family you were born into and the land they own has no bearing on my decision-making process. You will learn the steps, learn them well and perform them perfectly, or you will be watching the rite from the sidelines like everyone else. Am I clear?”

There was a mumble from the crowd.

“This is when I hear you all say ‘yes, pack leader’ in your best voices,” Selene prompted.

“Yes, pack leader!”

“Good, now, Ayla and Orsha here will begin to show you the steps. Some of you already know them, but you will watch and listen respectfully anyway.”

Ayla was the blonde-haired Maiden; Orsha the one with light brown hair. Both had their headdresses on but when one of the girls moved to retrieve one for herself, they just frowned at her until she stepped backwards.

“Before you start donning headdresses and roaming around showing us just how little you understand about the other side of your soul,” Ayla said, moving forward to face the group, “let’s get one thing straight. The steps are prescribed. They’ve been the same for centuries. We do not need you to embellish or do anything else to try and differentiate yourself from the pack.”

“Seeking to draw attention to yourself goes exactly against what the ritual is about,” Orsha said. “On that night, we become the Maiden. We do. We are her vessels, allowing her to hunt again for just one night and remind the world of her divine spirit. Now, loosen up, do some stretches, because we will be practising the first steps until I’m satisfied.”

Stretches? Loosen up? I’d, of course, received dancing lessons as the daughter of a duke, but they were mostly a sedate swaying affair, yet as I watched the women stretch out their arms and legs, I realised this would be something more. I moved through the stretching routine Nordred had shown me and then took my place when we were drawn closer.

“You can perform the steps impeccably, but still miss the point,” Ayla said, throwing her weight onto one foot while the other raised elegantly behind her, toe pointed, then she seemed to stab forward with one shoulder, her raised foot snapping down to support her weight and the other sweeping up, then her spine curled upwards, bringing both feet down to the ground until she was standing on her tiptoes. It all happened so fast, I wasn’t entirely sure I had it right. “Memorise the steps first, but keep in mind, this is a religious rite. You need to let the Maiden into your heart, let her flow through you as you perform her dance. Become her avatar in this world, if only for a night. Now, first position.”

We all moved out then, giving ourselves enough space to move and both women showed us the first form. I wavered, something that drew snickers from the others, because I was unused to putting my weight forward on one leg like that. I used to run along fence poles and skip over stepping stones in creeks, but my centre of balance was off, so I was forced to correct it.

“Steady…” Selene said as she passed by, to me and a few of the other girls who were flailing around, but I found as I strengthened my core I could balance my weight on the one foot much more successfully.

Then they showed us the next step.

The transition from one leg to another led to a whole lot of wobbling, with the exception of a small group: Malia and her friends. They looked back at the rest of us with a smirk as we struggled to complete the move, but the Maidens constantly circulated, offering tips and small moments of praise, at the same time keeping Malia’s cohort from saying too much. Of course, once we were semi-proficient at that step, we moved to the next. By the end of the first hour, I had a newfound respect for the Strelan dance traditions. My fellow Granians liked to portray the Strelans as worthless heathens that on sacred days did little other than run around a bonfire naked, but my joints told another story.

“Alright,” Ayla said with a clap, “let’s get everyone together and try the first segment as a pack. Remember, you are only as strong as your other packmates.”

“Well, then the Maiden is doomed this Festival,” an icily beautiful girl near Malia said to her friends, the group of them snickering.

“Less cackling!” Orsha snapped. “The older women are practicing the dance of the crone elsewhere in the temple. If you wish to join them, raise your hand!” She cast her eyes imperiously over the crowd. “No? Well then, let’s try this out.”

It was an aberration, I knew that from the first step, but as we all struggled to perform the movements, I could begin to see it, feel it. When we stopped agonising over where our right feet were and what our hands were supposed to be doing, it came. A sensation a little like a breeze blowing over your skin, but instead of coming from without, it came from within.

“Good, good…” Orsha said as she walked past me, watching the way my fur sprang up and receded as I moved. “You’re feeling your wolf inside you. Ladies, this is what you all need to be doing.”

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