The Wolf King: A Fantasy Romance

“I was not jealous!”

I march ahead of Callum. My bare feet slap painfully against the flagstones. I have no idea where I’m going, but I need to get away from the aura of amusement he is emitting, and the wide grin on his face.

I was. . . caught by surprise when he hugged that woman. That’s all. He’s a wolf! An enemy! I was not. . . jealous he might have someone back home.

I’m so flustered that as I turn a corner, I barge into a servant. She yelps, and her basket of potatoes spills onto the floor.

“Oh, Goddess!” I say.

“Watch where you’re going—” She sniffs the air, and her lips curl into a snarl. “Human.”

I take a small step back.

“What are you doing here?” she growls, advancing. “Your kind isn’t welcome—”

Suddenly she stiffens. The girl’s eyes widen at something over my shoulder, and she bows her head in deference. Her cheeks flame.

Callum stands in the doorway behind me. He picks up a potato that has rolled into his boot, then walks over and places it in her basket.

“Everything okay, Kayleigh?” he asks.

“Aye,” she mumbles. “Thank you.”

She rushes off, presumably toward the kitchens, leaving me feeling rattled.

“She hated me,” I say. I’m used to indifference within the walls of the palace, but not hatred.

“Can you blame her?”

I swivel round to face him. “I have done nothing to her. And she looked like she wanted to kill me.”

He sighs. “You’re a human, Princ—” He stops himself from saying my title. “Rory.”

He walks past, and I fall into step beside him.

“Kayleigh’s father was killed by Sebastian’s army in an attack on their village, just north of the Borderlands,” he tells me as we navigate the gloomy corridors. “Her mother was taken—she’s presumed dead too. The humans burned the whole village. That girl, she barely escaped with her life. So, aye, she doesn’t like humans very much.”

“That. . . That’s awful.” I say. “I wish we weren’t at war. I wish so many people did not have to die. But if the Wolves stopped invading our lands, then perhaps we could find peace. Three villages just south of the Borderlands were raided in the last month alone. Many of my people have been killed, too.”

He looks like he’s going to reply, but he runs his hand over his mouth instead. His callused palms make a scraping noise as they brush over his stubble.

There’s a weary look in his eye—as if the facts I stated are tiring to him.

“Anyway, that’s why I didn’t tell Fiona who you really were. As Wolves, our hearing is a lot stronger than yours. If I’d have told her, the whole courtyard would have known you were the daughter of our enemy king, and betrothed to a man who has single-handedly tortured and killed many of our people.”

“Oh,” I say, softly. “They would have turned on me instantly.”

“Aye,” says Callum, darkly. “When the others are back, they’ll find out who you are soon enough. I’d prefer to present you to the king first. It’ll be easier to protect you if he makes it clear you’re not to be touched.”

A feeling, darker than the surrounding shadows, fills my chest. “What makes you so sure he won’t execute me to send a message to Sebastian and my father?”

“Because he wants the Heart of the Moon as much as I do,” says Callum. “And because I know him. And because. . . well. . .” He lowers his voice. “He owes me.”

My gaze darts to his face, curious, but he’s looking ahead.

When we reach the foot of a stairway, my shoulders droop again. Exhaustion is taking its toll on me, and the thought of mustering up the strength to climb who knows how many stairs is not a pleasant one.

But there will be some fresh clothes waiting for me at the top, at least.

Before I can step forward, Callum has scooped me up into his arms and is walking up the stairs.

“Put me down!” I protest, but my heart isn’t in it, and my hands automatically clasp around his thick neck.

His warmth seeps through the fur cloak I’m wearing and my body seems to soften into his. One of his hands is curled around the bottom of my thigh, and I can feel his rough palms through my thin nightdress. A burst of heat surges through me.

Callum’s jaw tightens, and he clears his throat.

“You’re tired,” he says. “And I gave you the dignity of walking past the others into the castle, but there’s no one around now.”

I’m surprised he considered how I would have felt to be picked up in front of all those Wolves.

Then I remember what Sebastian said at the dog fight—about Wolves preying on the weak. He must have known I needed to seem strong.

“I’m fine,” I say.

“You’re not fine. There’s no need to put airs on around me. We know each other too well now.” He carries me to a first-floor landing, leading me past a number of closed doors. His green eyes glint. “I mean, we’ve already slept together.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “Don’t you dare go around saying things like that!”

“But it’s true!”

I punch his chest. It’s like hitting a rock and he doesn’t even flinch. He merely chuckles as he carries me to a door near the end of the corridor. A narrow window lets in a slit of cold sunlight, and offers a glimpse of the mountains and the dark waters of the loch outside.

He puts me down and his nose twitches.

“Isla?” he says, looking over his shoulder.

Seconds later, a pretty girl around my age with long mousy-brown hair rushes out of one of the nearby doors. She’s wearing a dress made of the same red tartan that Callum’s kilt is made of. She squeals when she sees him.

“Callum!” She throws her hair over her shoulder, then flutters her eyelashes. “I’ve run you a bath—just how you like it—and there’s some fresh clothes laid out on your bed.”

She doesn’t seem to notice the weary look on his face as she loops a strand of hair around her finger and continues to chatter.

“I was hoping you’d be back in time for the full moon. And the equinox feast, I’m glad you didn’t miss it. How was the siege? Some of the others were worried you’d not be returning, but I knew. Don’t you worry about Callum, I told them, he’s—”

She cuts off.

She straightens, her eyes darkening. “Who’s this?”

“This is Rory,” says Callum with a tired smile. “I need you to grab her some fresh clothes. A dress and some shoes.” He pauses, thoughtful for a moment. “Put her in the clan colors.”

Her smile disappears. “She can’t wear the clan colors.”

“I wasn’t asking for your opinion on the matter, Isla,” says Callum.

Her cheeks turn red and she lowers her head.

“Of course.” She stomps over to the door she just emerged from. “Come on then.” She shoots me a cold look over her shoulder.

Callum gives me a reassuring nod. “I’ll be right out here.”

Taking a deep breath, I head after Isla. She leads me into a room, and shuts the door before hurrying to a wardrobe at the far wall.

I linger awkwardly by the single bed against one wall.

“These are your chambers?” I ask.

She huffs as she sifts through the fabric. “Aye.”

The room is small but comfortable. As well as the bed, there’s an armoire and a dressing table with a mirror on it. A narrow window looks out onto the mountain. The scent of rose petals permeates the air.

A moment later, she thrusts a red tartan dress into my hands and some leather boots.

“Thank you,” I say.

“I want them back, later.” She scowls, flicks her hair over her shoulder, then exits the room.

I breathe out slowly. Even though we’re indoors, my breath mists in front of me.

I suppose I’ll need to get used to people hating me. It will only get worse when they find out who I really am.

I inspect the dress. It’s simple—much less complicated than some of the dresses I wear at home. As I have no servants to help dress me, that is a good thing.

The fabric is thick red tartan, the same as Callum’s kilt. I hope that this is a good choice. Callum said he looks after his own, and it makes it seem like I am part of his clan. I only worry about what his actual clan will think of me wearing their colors. If Isla is anything to go by, they won’t be happy.

I take a couple of deep breaths to steady my nerves, then I peel off the fur cloak and wet nightdress, and change.

The boots are worn and a little too big for my feet, but I welcome the warmth.

I asses myself in the mirror.

I wince at the face starting back at me. My skin is pale and my eyelids are puffy. There are errant twigs caught in my tangled hair and I wish I had a brush and a hair tie. I don’t look like a Southlands princess at all.

I look wild.

How can I possibly face a king looking like this? How can I possibly face Callum looking like this?

Panic rises, and my eyes burn as I frantically run my hands through my hair.

If I’m not perfect, how can I get through this?

“Everything alright in there?” Callum’s steady voice permeates the door.

I close my eyes, then take a deep breath.

I am strong. I am stone. I am a statue.

“Yes,” I say.

“Good. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

I pinch my cheeks, bringing a little color into them, raise my chin, then nod to myself.

I will survive this.

I head out into the corridor. “Okay. I’m ready to meet your king.”