Page 18 of The Ashpaw: Part One

But before she could even make sense of what she was seeing, the onslaught of wolfkin scents hit her like a stampeding bull, forcing her to take a step back and brace herself against the wall.

It was so much at once, and her body reacted strangely as individual notes stuck out more than others. Some were almost offensive, while others were more interesting. And a few were positively tantalizing.

Her fingers gripped the heavy curtain to keep her feet still, anchoring her in place as she let it all pass.

And then she finally cleared her head enough to watch.

Long tables covered in platters of whole roasted pigs and geese, fruit, pies, cheeses, and breads lined the room. At their benches sat over a hundred wolfkin or more, and the sight of so many together caused her breath to catch in her chest.

Jules had not been exaggerating—everyone, from the men to the women, was large-bodied with long, thick hair, woven into intricate braids. The clothing was made from fine, clean linens and wool, decorated with colorful embroidery and beads.

At one end of the room was a longer head table, where the alphas sat, and right in the middle were Darion and his mate-to-be, and Fern almost gasped.

She appeared blessed by moonlight herself, with pale skin and hair, her gown sparkling as though woven with silver.

Darion could not keep his eyes off her, and while this strangely sat heavy in her stomach, she could hardly blame him. She was enchanting.

Her attention left the couple as a Solvekh walked past her, carrying pitchers of ale, and she watched the other servants as they worked the room, taking note for when she’d be among them tomorrow.

She might not be able to carry quite as much, but she was fast, and her balance was impeccable.

A few of the servers stopped to talk with the wolfkin, and her cheeks heated as she saw the way hands wandered over skirts and bodices…

Then under skirts and bodices…

Some Solvekh were brought down hard upon laps, to be kissed or touched further.

Even the Lurvekh women were fond of reaching out for the Solvekh men, hands squeezing groins and buttocks while winking suggestively.

One Lurvekh even threw a Solvekh over his shoulder, and they both laughed as he took her down a dark hallway.

A harried-looking woman approached her, her face red with heat and exertion, the tray she carried loaded with far too many dirty bowls and plates. She’d just rounded the table closest to the servants’ entrance when a passing Solvekh stuck out his leg and she tripped, landing hard on her knees. The wooden dishes all rolled and scattered across the floor, leaving their food drippings behind them.

The Solvekh walked around her, and the Lurvekh continued as though there was nothing to see.

Fern had wanted to stay out of sight, but no one was stopping to help the poor woman. Were they simply too busy?

She took a deep breath and stepped out into the fray, grabbing the dishes closest to her and quickly piling them back on the tray. “Here, I’ll go with you to the kitchen to get a mop for the mess…”

The woman stared at her with wide, pleading eyes, and Fern noticed the conversation around her had quieted, now focusing on the interaction.

And then she felt it.

The alphas were watching.

Before she could look up to see the expression on Darion’s face—anything but anger, she prayed—a hand gripped her upper arm and dragged her up and out.

“What are you doing?” angrily whispered Vedia.

Fern’s relief at having found a familiar face melted back into shame. “No one was helping her, so I thought—”

“That’s the Ashpaw, you fool!” She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “You are new, so you can only pray your ignorance will shield you from the consequences.”

“Consequences? For merely helping?”

“Aye!” she exclaimed. “You don’t understand, and I don’t know how to explain it, but the wolfkin need someone to be, to be…” Vedia looked up in thought, blowing a stray strand of her hair out of her face, when her eyes lit up and she snapped her fingers. “A dish rag!”

“A what?”