The Wolf King: A Fantasy Romance

Callum has left? After everything that happened between us?

Last night, I betrayed my kingdom when I kissed him.

Despite that, he has ridden out to find the Wolf King—someone who will undoubtedly either execute me or send me straight back to Sebastian. And he didn’t even say goodbye?

Shame spreads through my body. Shame that something that was so monumental to me obviously meant nothing to him. I wonder how many women he must have kissed for that to be the case.

I force my expression to settle into one of indifference.

I will not let this serpent know that his news has rattled me.

“I knew he would be riding out to find his king soon. I just hadn’t realized he had gone yet. If you’re trying to create trouble, you will find none here.”

The corner of Blake’s lip quirks. “Pity, I do enjoy trouble.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m looking for something.” He slides a blue leather-bound book from the shelf. “Ah, here it is.”

I don’t catch the full title, but I see the word lore in elegant calligraphy across the front, and a dusting of golden stars on the spine.

He tucks it beneath his arm and walks to the door.

“What book is that?” I ask.

He pauses and his shoulders stiffen. He clearly doesn’t want me to know what he’s reading. When he turns around, though, his expression is unrattled.

He nods at the pile of medical books by my bed. “Are you trying to find out if you could have saved her?”

My fist tightens around the silver blade. His voice is casual, as though the death of my mother was meaningless. “That’s none of your concern.”

“What were her symptoms?” When I merely glare at him, he shrugs. “Don’t you want to know whether I could have saved her?”

My breathing is fast. “You couldn’t have. You would have been a child when she died.”

“As would you.”

He waits. I hate that he knows how desperate I am for answers.

“She had cold sweats, fevers, shaking, and pain,” I blurt before I can change my mind about confiding in him. “She would hallucinate sometimes, and heal slowly. She was. . . weak. She got weaker every day.”

“Was she worse in the morning or the evening?”

I remember her frail form in the four-poster bed as sunlight seeped through the palace shutters. “Morning.”

“Was she treated for her illness?”

“Yes.”

“A potion or brew, I presume?”

I nod, remembering that foul-smelling herbal liquid that was forced down her throat. Remembering the taste of it from when they fed it to me when I got sick, too.

“And did your father love your mother?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Answer the question.”

I grit my teeth. “My father doesn’t love anyone.”

Blake shrugs. “That sounds like no disease I know of.” He moves out into the landing and pauses. “Be careful, little rabbit. Fiona has gone too. Isla has been left in charge of your welfare. You’re alone among the Wolves.”

When he’s gone, I walk over to the window with my fist clenched. I’m not sure whether Blake was trying to scare me or provoke me, or both. How dare he try to bait me with questions about my mother? Regardless, I cannot believe Callum has left me alone.

Mist hangs over the loch and twists around the peaks of the mountains. The vastness of the landscape makes me feel small.

I wonder how long Callum will be gone for. I want to give him a piece of my mind.

But I dread his return, too.

Because when he comes back, the Wolf King will be with him.

***

For the next couple of days, I’m glad to have my job in the kitchens. It distracts me, and stops my thoughts from becoming too dark.

Callum thinks wearing his collar will keep me safe, but it seems that without him here in the castle, the hostility aimed at me is palpable.

When I head to the kitchens in the mornings, Magnus and his rat-faced friend shout lewd comments as they pass on their way to training. While picking herbs in the kitchen gardens one afternoon, Isla whispers something behind her hand to her friend and snickers as she swans by. And only Mrs. McDonald and Kayleigh speak to me—everyone else merely eyes me with contempt. They do not want a human in their midst.

The strip of red tartan around my neck prevents any further trouble, at least.

I eat as much as I can during lunch so I do not have to stray downstairs after dark when the alcohol comes out and the bagpipe music starts playing. I ignore Isla’s comments, and Magnus’s leers. And I spend the rest of my days reading, while the anger inside me grows thorns and shoots.

Why has Callum left me?

Is he okay?

On the third morning, I wake at dawn. The sun has not yet risen, and the air smells strangely like perfume and roses. I slept restlessly, and dreamt of Wolves and wilderness and darkness.

I turn to my bedside table to reach for Callum’s collar.

My heart stills.

No.

I jump out of bed and frantically shift books aside, sending parchment fluttering onto the floorboards.

My blood turns to ice, then to fire.

The collar is not there.

Someone has been in my chambers.

A hurricane rages in my chest, much wilder than the winds currently ratting the window of my bedchambers.

Isla.

It has to be her.

I stomp across the room, wrench open the wardrobe door, and change into the first dress I can find. How dare she. I storm down the spiral staircase into a corridor. I’m going to the Great Hall, and I will show Isla that it was a mistake to provoke me. I will show her what happens when she steals from the princess of the—

I make impact with a mass of dark hair and stringy muscle and stagger back along the torchlit corridor. My stomach drops and my feet grow roots that bind me to the stone floor.

“Hello, sweetheart.” Magnus leers. A slow grin spreads across his face, revealing a missing tooth.

His two friends, the male with ratlike features, and the muscular male with a dark beard, stand on either side of him—both in their green kilts, blocking my path.

For a moment, I cannot move. Then my instincts kick in.

I turn and try to run back down the corridor, but the bigger male grabs my arm.

“Get off me!”

I try to wrench away, but his grip is like steel.

“Where are you going, sweetheart?” drawls Magnus.

The air is sour with sweat. Magnus’s gaze travels up and down my body, and my skin turns cold wherever it lands.

I grit my teeth and glare up at him. “When Callum finds out—”

“Callum isn’t here. And you’re not wearing his collar.” He steps closer to me, and his acrid scent floods my nostrils. I almost gag. “That makes you free game.”

“You will pay for this.” I try to pull away but the bigger man’s hand tightens around my arm. “Callum will kill you, you fools.”

The three of them laugh and the wild and thorny thing that has been growing inside me for days sets alight.

“I will make you pay for this.”

“There’s no need to be like that,” says Magnus. “We can all be friends here. Now, the way I see it, we know something about you that you don’t want our acting Wolf King to know about, Princess. What will you do for us to stop us from—”

The warmth from another person washes over my back and a slender hand clasps my neck. Time slows down as I feel the whisper of silk against my throat. My heart is racing so fast I think it will burst from my chest. The gloomy corridor sways around me.

I force myself to calm down, and everything comes back into focus. Curling my fist, I get ready to fight.

Only Magnus and the other two men have already staggered back with fear in their eyes.

“We’re sorry. We didn’t know.” Magnus’s expression is wary. “We thought she was Callum’s. We never would have. . . if we’d known she was she was yours. . .”

When they get no response, they back away, then scurry toward the Great Hall.

Heart in my throat, I spin around.

And I find myself face to face with Blake.

I’m breathing fast as my mind races to process what just happened, what is still happening. “I. . . what are you. . .?”

His gaze drops to the collar that now sits around my neck.

His collar.