Page 21 of The Wolf Queen

“Return to your masters after you are rested.” I thrust the scroll at him. “I will, of course, answer the crown prince’s summons with my husbands.”

“Husbands?” His brows shot up. “So it is true then. A duke’s daughter has lowered herself to consort with beasts like that.”

“You’ll not speak of milady like that in my kitchen,” Flora said, grabbing a wooden spoon and wielding it like I would a sword.

“It’s alright, Cook,” I said in a calm tone. “He’s right.” Rake would have eyes and ears everywhere. I took him to be one of the vast number of minor nobility in this sort of role at court, always keeping their eyes out for the latest titbit that they could whisper into the right ear in the hopes it might raise their status. So I would let him take this bit of information back to the Crown Prince. “I do consort with those wargen, each and every one of them, as soon as the sun sets. I would never have thought to answer the prince’s summons, seeing as his father wedded me to those ‘beasts’, but here we are. Do you think, perhaps, that the prince will want to join their number? See if the legends are true and a nip from them or me is enough to turn Prince Bryson into a slavering beast?”

I shoved the scroll into his hand.

“If you could let His Highness know—”

“I’m afraid not,” he said, then smiled impishly as though that overrode his interruption. “Prince’s orders. Some of the girls come willing-like, filled with dreams that they’ll be queen, but others…” He slid his eyes sideways and dragged them over me, insultingly slow with it, so that my hand went to my sword without thinking. “Well, others? They’re less willing, thinking they have sweethearts, fiancés and even…” his gold eyes sparkled, “even husbands. The prince was most insistent that each woman on the list present herself at court. He’s sent a messenger to each noble house to deliver his edict and…” he winked at me, “to ensure the lady arrives promptly. I won’t be telling His Highness anything you won’t be able to when you’re in his presence.”

I stared at the back of his head as he turned back to his sandwich, dimly aware Flora was unsettled, but unable to reach out and reassure her while my field of vision went red. Rage, pure and unadulterated, throbbed inside me. The irony was that it was an emotion that could not be acknowledged, let along acted on, here in Grania, but could be expressed freely if I just ran across the border, back to Strelae. I ground my teeth at the recognition that there were powerful men on either side reaching out their hands to grab me, like I was no more than a doll—Callum and his Reavers on one side, and now Crown Prince Bryson had added himself to the mix on this side of the border.

But they would all realise soon enough that there was more to me than the embroidered smile and the malleable frame of a child’s toy—Darcy of Elverston had never been the biddable young woman that Granian men seemed to wish for, and Queen Darcy of Strelae was a different creature altogether. I took in a breath and actively unclenched my jaw so that I could unleash my ire at this messenger—his audacity earning him the position of target on behalf of all those other men.

“Who the hell are you?” I ground out, expecting him to be taken aback. But Rake seemed to think my jibe hilarious, judging from the stifled snort that met my question. “I’ve met hundreds of messengers from Aramathia, but none like you.”

He turned to face me and was about to reply, golden eyes beginning to shine with a restless light, but as his lips parted, footsteps had us both turning our attention to the door that led out to the kitchen gardens.

“Who’s this one?”

Selene and Ayla came strolling into the kitchens with Orla in tow. My mood shifted the moment I saw the Maiden we’d sent on patrol. I strode over and hugged her tight, and she slapped my back once before letting go. Selene, however, was staring at Rake with a fixedness that had me turning back to the messenger, although I didn’t want to have to go back to dealing with his… whatever it was.

“Rake, ma’am,” he replied with a tug of his forelock, all deference now, at odds with his impudent attitude when speaking with me.

Her ice-blue eyes held his golden gaze, not looking away for a second as she summed him up. He met her scrutiny head on, something many Strelan men wouldn’t have dared to, although he couldn’t know that. He came from a city where women were chattels, subjugated by the church, by their fathers, their brothers, by the whole of society, so no doubt he thought he could do as he wished with impunity. And as if to prove my thought, that grin reappeared on his face, only growing wider the longer she looked at him.

“With me,” she barked, as she turned on her heel and marched back out the doorway they’d come in through.

Selene didn’t sayanything until we were well clear of the kitchens, of the central keep buildings themselves, and stood in an eerily quiet courtyard. The knights no longer needed to spend their days sparring and training in armour and mail. They had a different master now, and their goal was to learn to control their wolves, not something that could be done out in the open with the crown prince’s messenger at large in the keep.

“That one isn’t right,” she said, stabbing her finger in the general direction of the kitchens. “There’s something wrong about him.”

“You can say that again,” I replied. “He’s terribly rude for a messenger.”

“No, not that.” She frowned slightly, staring at me. “Can’t you feel it?”

“Feel what? A burning need to smash his face into a bowl of horse mash?” I replied. “Certainly, but—”

“That one’s a wolf,” Ayla said, shouldering forward.

I laughed at that, only sobering when I realised that all three of them were staring seriously at me.

“What?”

“It doesn’t feel right, whatever is in him, but he’s got a wolf.”

Chapter15

“He’s got a wolf.”

Selene’s words reverberated around and around in my head as we rode forth the next day, leaving my father’s keep under the command of the general. Our party consisted of Selene and Ayla, Higgins and one of his cultist followers, my mates and our children. I’d wanted to keep them from this trip, giving them over to Annis’ capable hands, but they would not hear of it. Their cries, the way they clung to me had had us delaying, then changing our plans quickly. But once we were on our way, travelling farther south than I’d ever been before, I had time to regard this… Rake… and wonder what the hell he was.

He sat too tall in the saddle for a messenger. Most were rangy, bow-legged fellows, their bodies adapting to spending too much time in the saddle, but Rake’s spine was ramrod straight. Someone had made sure he developed a good seat and that was usually the result of expensive tutors, far beyond the reach of a simple messenger.

“Do I need to be worried?” I glanced sideways to see Weyland had sidled his horse closer. He smiled at my confusion and then nodded in Rake’s direction. “You’ve been staring fixedly at that man since we left the keep.” He leaned out of his saddle to angle himself towards me. “If you’ve attention to spare, give it to me.”

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