My jaw sets. “I’ve faced worse monsters than you.”

I’m not sure if it’s a trick of the torchlight flickering across his face, but I think the corner of his lip twitches.

“Bring the lad to me,” he says. “And let’s see how brave you really are.”

I turn away from him, and lift my leather flask to the boy’s mouth. He takes a small sip of water before grimacing and laying his head back on the dirt. He’s clutching one of his arms, and it looks red and swollen. I run my hand softly over his elbow and he groans. If I bandage it up tightly before it starts to heal, and create a sling, it might help. First, I pull the willow bark from my satchel.

“For the pain,” I say.

“They said you were a beauty, but I didn’t know you were a redhead,” says the alpha.

“What has that got to do with anything?”

“Not a hair color you tend to see south of the border. Perhaps you have ancestors in the Northlands.”

“I don’t.”

I put the willow bark in the boy’s mouth and he chews, looking up at me with bloodshot eyes.

“My people say those with red hair have fire in their souls,” says the alpha.

I glare over my shoulder. My mouth dries at the intensity in his gaze, and I swallow. “I don’t.”

“Hm.”

I turn back to the shuddering boy.

“Stop your whining,” says the alpha.

Something wild and angry grows inside me, and before I can tame it, I find myself on my feet, whirling to face him.

“How dare you speak to him.” At my full height, my eyes align with his shoulders and I have to tilt back my head to glare up at him. “Look at him. He’s just a boy. . . and you. . . you did that to him. You’re a bully. And a monster. And a bloody horrible brute.”

This time, I’m sure the corner of his lip quirks. “No fire in your soul, huh?”

“He’s just a child. And you were going to kill him. Are you pleased with yourself? Have you no shame?”

All the humor drains from his face and his expression darkens. “It was your betrothed that put me in that ring.”

“So you bear no accountability for your actions? Is that what you’re saying?”

A low growl reverberates in his throat. “I had no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” I snarl back. “It may not be an easy choice. But it is a choice nonetheless.”

His breathing is hard, and he swallows—as if pushing down whatever emotion my words have provoked. “What would you know about choices, Princess?”

“Enough.”

He drags his teeth over his bottom lip. “I wonder if you’ll be so brave when there are no bars to separate us.”

“There will always be bars to separate us.”

“Will there?”

My heartbeat quickens at his tone—at the implication in it—and from the curl of his lips I wonder if he can hear it.

He turns his attention to the boy as though he is done with me. “Get over here,” he snarls.

“No,” the boy whimpers.

“Stop being such a bloody great wuss.”

“I told you to leave him alone,” I snap.

“And I told him to get over here.” The alpha’s eyes narrow on the boy. “And it’s the second time he’s disobeyed me in just as many days.”

“Why on earth would he obey you?”

He sighs as though I’ve asked the most exasperating question in the world. “What is he wearing?”

“What?”

He nods at the boy, and I look down at him—at his pale slender chest, then the red tartan kilt he wears.

“And what am I wearing?” he asks.

I turn back to the alpha, noting his kilt, made from red tartan. My gaze inadvertently drops to his calves, which are as thick as tree trunks. I swallow hard.

“They’re the same, aye?” he says.

“So?”

“So! You destroy our lands, steal from us, do your experiments on us, kill us, imprison us, and still you don’t know a damn thing about us.” He shakes his head, and sighs. “We’re from the same clan. He’s one of mine. The wee shite’s called Ryan.” He glares at the boy. “And if he doesn’t get his arse over here, then he won’t be coming with me when I leave.”

“I. . . Why would he. . .” I frown. “What do you mean, when you leave?” I fold my arms and look pointedly at the cell he is confined within. “I hardly think you’re going anywhere anytime soon.”

He shifts, folding his corded forearms through the bars. “No?”

“No.”

“Why do you think I’m here, Princess?” He looks pointedly around his dank cell. “For the accommodation?”

“You’re here because you’re an enemy of the kingdom. And you’re a prisoner. And a wolf. And,” I add, somewhat shrilly, unsure of why he’s getting under my skin so much, “because you killed three men and almost killed this poor boy.”

He shrugs a big shoulder. “Be that as it may, I don’t plan on staying for long.”

I grit my teeth, my breathing faster than it should be. I don’t know what is wrong with me. I am a master of my emotions. I have been all of my life. I have pushed them down far enough that most of the time, I forget they are even there.

Why is this prisoner—this wolf—provoking this wildness inside me? “So, what? You actually think you’re going to escape?”

“Aye.”

“If you’re so certain, why on earth would you tell me? That’s not very smart, is it?”

“What are you going to do, Princess? Tell your betrothed?” He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Because that would mean telling him you came down here. And I don’t think you’ll want him to know about that, will you?”

My blood turns cold and the alpha smiles wickedly.

“Now you have a choice, Princess. Bring the lad to me so I can fix his arm, then you can make him a sling. Or leave him here to suffer.”

“That’s. . . that’s why you want him to come to you?”

“His shoulder is dislocated.” He points at the whimpering form on the ground. His hand is close enough that I feel a waft of air at the movement. “Look at how his arm is jutting out at that angle. If I don’t fix pop it back into the joint, he’ll lose use of it until he can see a healer up north. And that’ll slow me down. Bring him to me so I can fix it. And be quick about it.”

He speaks like a man who is used to people doing as he tells them. Yet he is in no position to be barking orders at me.

“You were going to kill him,” I say.

“And you stopped me. And now I’m going to save him. But only if you do as I say.”

I furrow my brow. “If this is a trick to. . . to try and get the key from me or something, you should know that it’s silver, and there are armed guards outside anyway.”

“Aye, I figured as much. It’s no trick. And I don’t need you to get me out of the kennels.”

He says the word with the same distaste as I did earlier.

I look into his eyes, almost evergreen in the darkness. Again, I feel that strange tug on my soul. And for some strange reason I believe him.

I sigh and, as if sensing my submission to his will, he inclines his head. “Bring the lad to me.”

I take a deep breath, then I crouch down. “Ryan,” I say softly. “You need to get up so we can help you.”

He groans. “I don’t want to.”

“You have a choice,” I tell him. “But if you choose not to get up, you’ll likely die.”

“I wish I’d never come here.” He glares over my shoulder.

“Aye, I wish you hadn’t too,” says the alpha darkly. “But here you are. So stop acting like an insolent pup and do as you’re told.”

Ryan’s sharp jaw sets, and he looks as if he’s about to throw a temper tantrum. But then he sits and I see the alpha is right. His shoulder is swollen, and his arm is out of place. It must hurt.

I help him up, and he drags his feet across the dirty floor as I lead him across the cell.

“Good lass,” says the alpha.

Something heats inside me. Who does he think he is, speaking to me like that? He is a prisoner, someone from the wolf clans no less, and I’m daughter of the king. I glare at him but he has already turned his attention to Ryan.