Page 136 of The Ashpaw: Part One

The feeling of his hands in her hair suddenly painful, Fern pulled away. She wanted his attention, his touch, all of it—but the reality of the situation rushed back in, leaving her cold.

Kyntha would always receive his love, while Fern would have to content herself with his bare minimum.

And even that was too much for Kyntha.

“I’m fine, I can go back now,” Fern said quietly.

“See?” Kyntha shook her head as she pulled the needle through. “Only ten minutes should be plenty.”

Darion slammed his book shut, growling and pinching the bridge of his nose. “There is only one threat to our growing bond, Kyntha,” he said, stopping to look at her. Then he shouted, “And it is your ugly pettiness!”

Fern and Kyntha froze, their fearful eyes stuck on the angry alpha they were both supposed to belong to.

“You are my priority, and I have made you my priority in everything I do. She receives crumbs compared to your cake, but you begrudge me even that!” He was standing now, chest heaving as he pointed at her.

Kyntha’s face was bright red, and she swallowed nervously as he continued.

“I will not have Ironcoats dictate who I can touch and when in my own godsdamned home!”

Their eyes locked in challenge, and Fern wondered if she’d ever seen Kyntha so angry at him before. But the fire doused quickly, and then Kyntha silently averted her gaze.

He waited a beat to be sure of her submission, then nodded once. “Move your feet,” he ordered.

She did so immediately, swiveling so they were now on the floor.

Darion retook his spot and then slapped his knee once, turning his attention to Fern. “Come.”

Fern knew there was no point in telling him she really did just want to leave, so she climbed onto his lap. Once she was settled, he took his book and began reading again.

Her wolf was proud, preening that she had their alpha defending her, but Fern knew it wasn’t much of a defense of her as it was himself.

And after seeing Katreena in action and knowing now how Kyntha was brought up, it only meant her retaliations towards Fern would become less obvious. More insidious. And that was far more dangerous.

But for now, all she could do was try to relax, so she lowered her head on his shoulder, sighing as his purr rumbled back to life.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, although she didn’t really know quite what for.

He kissed her absently along her hairline, and then turned the page.

* * *

One of the few rooms she was allowed to visit was a large conservatory, and she asked Lucas to take her there after lunch the following day.

A wave of warmth washed over her the moment she stepped through the glass doors, thick and oppressive after the cool stone halls beyond. The rain had stopped that morning, and the summer heat had returned in full, the conservatory’s arched glass ceiling trapping it fully. Moisture clung faintly to her skin within moments, as did the scent of damp earth and growing things.

Despite the heavy wetness in the air, she felt like she could breathe easier, surrounded by green life that reminded her of the forests outside her village where she’d spent so much of her childhood.

Stone paths wound between raised beds and enormous clay pots overflowing with herbs and flowering plants, while small citrus trees stretched toward the light filtering through the ceiling.

She found a lavender plant, and rubbed it between her fingers when frantic chirps and a flurry of movement caught her attention.

Moving down, she found a small bird, disoriented and in a panic.

“Goodness, how did you get in here?” she asked, looking around.

There were windows near the domed ceiling, cracked open for ventilation.

“Oh you poor dear, did you come in through there?”