Callum turns, revealing the girl standing behind him. She looks around my age, slightly taller than me, with long brown hair that’s tied in a loose ponytail with a red tartan ribbon. She’s pretty—even with dirt smearing her cheek, and the fact that she’s dressed like a man in breeches and a linen shirt slick with sweat.

Callum may be teasing her, but I can tell she hasn’t bathed in a while as well. She’s giving off a strong smell of horses.

She narrows her eyes at Callum, though the corner of her lip twitches. “Cheeky bastard. You survived?”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

They embrace. He pulls her close, and her arm grips the back of his neck as she burrows her head into his shoulder.

“I was worried about you, Callum,” she mumbles. “So worried.”

And I feel like someone has just punched me in the gut. My blood pumps cold and it is stupid for my body to be reacting this way. Because he is a wolf and an enemy.

And of course he has a woman back home. Because despite all his faults, he is strong and brave and kind.

I swallow and try to calm my racing pulse.

Callum stiffens, then turns to look at me as they release one another—his expression confused—as though he senses the raw emotion surging through me. The girl’s eyebrows knit together as well. Her eyes narrow on my bare feet, on the damp fur cloak, and the dirty nightdress beneath.

She gives Callum a hard look, and his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.

“Who’s this, then?” she asks, putting her hands on her hips.

“This is Rory,” says Callum—and there’s a shift in his tone. It’s almost as if he’s daring her to challenge him. “She was one of Sebastian’s prisoners.”

I frown, wondering why he isn’t being truthful to his wife, or lover, or whoever she is to him. Even though I suppose it is not quite a lie.

“She’s not one of us,” says the girl.

Callum’s eyebrows raise. “Does that matter?”

“I suppose it depends on who exactly she is. And what you hope to achieve by bringing her here.” She gives him another appraising look, then brushes him aside. “Are you okay, lass?”

Surprise blooms in my chest at the question. “I. . . yes. Yes. I’m fine.”

She arches an eyebrow as if she doesn’t believe me. “Aye? Well, if any of these louts give you any trouble, you come find me. I work in the stables.” She gestures to an archway leading out from the courtyard.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” I stand straighter.

I don’t want to come across as weak and powerless. I chose to come here—however ill-advised that may be. I don’t want to be a victim. I am a princess.

“Hm,” she says, taking the reins of Callum’s horse. “For the love of Ghealach, get her something decent to wear.”

“You realize I’m your alpha, right?” he says, eyes glinting playfully.

“Aye.” She sighs dramatically. “And that’s why I spend my days sweeping up after you.” She pats the horse’s neck, gives Callum a fond look, then leads the horse away. “Come on, Dawn.”

“Fi,” he calls after her.

“Aye?”

“Are the others back yet?”

Her brow furrows. “No. I thought they’d be arriving with you.”

He frowns as she leaves, clearly troubled. He offers me a half-smile. “Probably hungover.”

He puts his hand on my lower back to nudge me toward the castle. I stiffen at the inappropriateness of it. His woman friend is still in sight. His eyebrows knit together, but he drops his hand.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get you into some fresh clothes before we meet with the king.”

I straighten my back, hold my head high, and walk toward the castle—trying my hardest not to limp when my muscles are screaming and stones dig into my feet. Callum doesn’t say anything. And thank the Goddess he doesn’t pick me up either.

He leans over me to push open the heavy oak doors, and we step into an echoey entrance hall.

I catch a glimpse of a dark mezzanine, draped with green tartan, and a large oil painting of a great black wolf, before Callum nudges me through a door into a long corridor.

Out of sight of the other Wolves, my body sags.

“Why did you tell your wife I was a prisoner?” I ask.

Callum’s brow furrows.

“My wife? What are you—?” Suddenly, he throws his head back and roars with laughter. It makes me jump as the sound echoes around the cold space.

“Fiona? She’s not my wife! Ghealach! Don’t let her hear you saying that. She’d not be best pleased with you!”

Something that feels traitorously like relief blooms in my chest. I swallow, pushing it down. “Oh. You’re inappropriate with all women then?”

He laughs. “I gave her a hug, Princess. She’s my oldest friend. But wife? No. Whatever gave you—”

He halts and looks at me searchingly, his head tilting to the side. His smile broadens.

“What?” I fold my arms across my chest.

“So that’s what that was all about.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know, Princess, that as a wolf, I have exceptionally good senses.” His eyes glint in the torchlight. Then he starts moving again. “You were jealous,” he says.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Fourteen

“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.”