It could be my imagination, but Callum looks a little uncomfortable.

Blake, however, is grinning. He has one ankle on his knee. Again, he reminds me of a cat. This time, a cat who has found a couple of mice to play with.

Whatever this condition is, it cannot be good for me.

“You know, I didn’t take you for someone who would engage in such an archaic tradition, Callum,” says Blake.

“Aye, well, it’ll keep her safe until we can get the Heart of the Moon.”

“The Heart of the Moon. Yes. That’s the reason.” Blake’s eyes glint in the firelight.

“What condition?” I ask.

“I’ll tell you when we get upstairs.” Callum gets up. “Come on, it’s been a long night. You must be tired.”

“You really should challenge him for the title, you know,” says Blake.

Callum turns back around. “Who?” His tone is weighted.

“Rob, of course.” Blake picks up his wine glass. “Who else?”

“That would cause trouble, and you know it.”

“You’re the rightful second in command. They’re going to think you’re weak.”

“Only weak men feel the need to assert their dominance.”

“For once, you and I agree on something,” says Blake. “Others do not. You need to play the game sometimes, Callum.”

“And you should take a break from the game every once in a while, Blake. There are more important things than power.”

Blake’s gaze falls onto me for a moment, before a slow smile spreads across his face.

“Not for me,” he says.

***

My eyelids are heavy when Callum and I stop on a small, torchlit landing in the castle’s turret.

My breath mists in front of my face, but the labored climb has me hot and bothered. I’m not used to so much exercise. Callum hasn’t even broken a sweat.

“You said there was a condition,” I say, suppressing a yawn.

“Aye.” Callum pushes open a small wooden door. “It can wait until morning.”

He nudges me inside.

The room is small and filled with books. There are piles of them on a writing desk and they fill the rickety shelf beside it. There are even some stacked on the floorboards in one corner.

Against the wall, there’s a single bed.

There’s a scent in the air that seems familiar, but I can’t place it.

“Can Blake truly deal with Magnus?” I ask.

My insides twist with hate when I think of the wolf who burst into my bedchambers back in the Borderlands. He threatened me. Twice.

I’d have thought Callum would be better equipped to deal with a male like that. While Callum has been gentle with me, I saw him in the fighting ring. I know he would be a terrifying opponent.

Blake emitted a dark undercurrent of violence too, but it seemed more calculated and sharp—like a blade rather than a hammer.

“Blake has leverage on a lot of the Wolves here.” Callum’s eyes harden on the candle that flickers on the bedside table, as though it displeases him, before he continues. “He’s got something on Magnus. I don’t know what, but if anyone can keep him in check without me murdering him and losing his clan’s support, it’s Blake.”

When Callum opens the wardrobe, a low growl rumbles in his chest. It’s full of clothes.

“The prick knew I’d agree to you staying here,” he says. “He’s had someone prepare the room.”

He pulls out a white nightdress and hands it to me. It looks like it’s exactly my size.

“It’s clean,” he says.

“Oh. Thank you.”

I shift from one foot to another and Callum chews the inside of his cheek. For the first time since I met him, he seems at a loss for what to do next.

There’s a strange energy in the air.

“Um. . . You can go now,” I say.

His eyes widen. A slow grin spreads across his face, lightening his features.

“What?” I ask, folding my arms.

“I’ve not been dismissed since I was a wee lad pestering my parents,” he says. He inclines his head.

He walks to the door, but lingers in the doorway.

“I’ll come for you in the morning. And we’ll talk about my condition for having your own room. If you agree, I’ll show you around the grounds.”

“And if I don’t?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’ll be sharing a room with me for the rest of your time here.”

Something in his expression changes, and I wonder if he can hear the quickening of my pulse.

“Good night, Princess,” he says, his voice a little rough.

He walks out of the room and closes the door behind him.

The thought of being pulled onto his lap, his hard thighs beneath mine, flashes through my mind. I push it away.

“Good night,” I reply quietly.

Though he doesn’t respond, I am sure that with his wolf hearing, he heard me.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Twenty-Two

I have been alone since my mother died.

The loneliness has always spread through my body like rot. Even though I am continuously surrounded by people, it has lurked beneath my skin and threatened to consume me.

This morning, when I wake up alone, it feels different.

It’s an alone where I can hear my own thoughts; they mingle with the gentle patter of rain against the thin window.

For once, I don’t have to perform to anyone, because there are no ladies-in-waiting ushering me out of bed. Instead, I can lie bundled up in the soft quilt in a room filled with intriguing piles of books and sweet-scented herbs.

This morning, I’m not the king’s daughter, or Sebastian’s wife, or a princess with duties.

I am just. . . me.

A thrill surges through my body.

There are so many things I should be worrying about—the Wolves, the inevitability of Sebastian’s army finding me, Blake telling the acting Wolf King who I am.

And Callum.

Callum, and whatever condition he wants me to agree to in order for me to keep my own room.

Callum is so unlike anyone I have met before. He is lacking in decorum, and he continually behaves in a manner I am not used to. He teases me, and asks me questions, and touches me.

And the worst thing is, I’m not sure I dislike it.

Right now, I feel at peace. Content.

Free.

I lie here for around twenty minutes, savoring the feeling.

My eyes catch on the wardrobe. I was too tired to investigate last night, but I’m curious about what clothes are in there.

Today, I intend to learn as much about the Wolves as I can, and I’m hoping I’ll have a little more control over how I present myself than I did yesterday.

I stretch, my limbs aching from being on horseback for two days. I limp across the room and throw open the wardrobe.

I’m pleasantly surprised by what I see.

There is an array of dresses waiting for me. They’re all made from dark materials—black, greys, and navy blues. I skim my fingers along them, noting most are simple enough for me to put on without assistance, and all are well made.

There’s an elegant black dress in particular that catches my eye—made with silk and intricate lace. It emits power. I run my fingers over it.

It is not appropriate for today, though. I want to fit in, not draw attention.

I notice a couple of pairs of breeches in here, too.

In the Southlands, women do not dress in such garments. My father would probably disown me if he saw me wearing clothes like these.

Perhaps I’ll try them another day.

Instead, I select a simple brown dress that should make me look non-threatening, and put it on.

I’m pulling my fingers through my hair when someone taps against the door.

My breath hitches because I know who it will be.

“Can I come in, Princess?” asks Callum.

When I open the door, he’s wearing the same clothes as last night. A couple of the top buttons of his cream linen shirt are undone, and the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. His jaw is shadowed with stubble, and I wonder if he slept.