Page 24 of Wolf Duke

Oliver bowed. “At once, my king. Interesting, is it not, that the earl and countess should travel so far out of their way to call upon you, and so soon after your pledge at Eltham.”

“Very, very interesting. Oh, and Oliver…”

“Put away the gold?” said the steward, his lips twitching.

“Yes. Also the best tapestries and anything jewel-encrusted,” confirmed Alaric. “Lock the door to Leto’s shrine, tell the armorers to conceal their wares, and warn the guards to make themselves scarce for the evening. Anything that makes Blackstone Castle appear more than the remote fortress of a prosperous human knight. Er…new duke. And everyone must stay in human form.”

After Oliver had dashed away to alert the household and the guard was dispatched to open the portcullis and admit the humans, Alaric marched over to the library window to watch the proceedings below. Not for a moment did he believe the earl and countess were here on a friendly or impromptu visit. With all Lord Oxford’s new appointments, he had no reason whatsoever to pass through the Welsh Marches, especially to a remote castle in winter. No, these lofty humans certainly had a purpose.

It was just a matter of discovering what that purpose was; and hoping that no one inadvertently revealed that every other soul at Blackstone Castle was a wolf.

Leto help them all.

Human guests. Blackstone Castle had human guests.

Evaine exchanged an uneasy glance with Siân as the queen’s ladies bustled around them, lacing gown sleeves, brushing and plaiting hair, and fastening jewelry in preparation for the impromptu banquet.

Each wolf king’s castle was deliberately remote, well away from main roads and constructed to look bleak and uninviting from the outside, so any stray humans weren’t tempted to approach. Yet now they had guests, not lost travelers, but aristocrats expecting food and shelter, as they would from their human acquaintances.

Something about this just felt wholly wrong. Wholly suspicious.

Then again, perhaps her mind was just playing tricks, seeing shadows and darkness when there were none. In truth, she had no personal experience with aristocratic humans. Back in the Eastern Lands, her father had some dealings with them, but her mother always declined, stating she’d seen and heard quite enough working in a tavern. While Evaine had been in hiding, she’d only ever dared contact with peasants; some had been kind, others awful, but all had lived in fear of those with a title. Unlike wolf kings, who protected their pack and lands and considered ample food, well-made clothing, and sturdy housing the bare minimum, it seemed human lords barely cared if their tenants lived or died. Siân had ruled for the best part of two centuries, though, visiting several human royal courts to pledge fealty. She would know more.

As soon as the ladies finished their work and departed the elder wolf queen’s large and lavishly-appointed bedchamber, Evaine cleared her throat. “Do you know anything of these, ah, Oxfords? Are they good people?”

Siân’s lips twisted. “I know of the earl and his wife. It is true he has shown bravery and talent as a commander on the battlefield, but his many appointments came only because he happened to be on the winning side at Bosworth Field. In the recent past Lord Oxford has not been so fortunate: attainted for treason, fleeing abroad several times, even imprisonment. He has also engaged in privateering. In my eyes, a true measure of character is how someone treats those who depend on him, not merely his equals or superiors. Oxford’s wife and mother suffered greatly for his acts. That is one significant difference between wolf and human: females are respected as leaders and warriors, healers and scholars, not merely tolerated because they birth cubs. Wolves always seek counsel from their mate, and would never, ever leave them to starve or be abused. We stand together until the end.”

“Like Mother and Father,” whispered Evaine.

“Exactly like Hugo and Magdalena,” replied Siân, briefly reaching out to cup Evaine’s cheek.

“Why do you think the Oxfords have come here? It seems very odd,” said Evaine, as she nervously smoothed the square bodice of her favored emerald-green velvet gown and ensured her simple gold girdle lay flat. “I mean, it’s winter. The weather is foul, the roads are awful, and most humans are busy celebrating the Twelve Days of Christmas at their estates.”

“Precisely. It is very odd. And the Welsh Marches are hardly a direct route anywhere. Let me warn you, my dear, tonight will be an exceedingly strange experience. I know Lord Oxford thinks himself very high and mighty and will behave accordingly. And we’ll all have to sit there, knowing we could end his life with a single bite or claw swipe.”

Evaine giggled then sobered. “How do you bear it? How does Alaric bear it? I can’t even imagine having to pledge sword and service to a human king when they change so often and are so weak.”

“It is tedious beyond belief,” admitted Siân, as she adjusted the veil covering her hair then shook out her silver-embroidered cream velvet skirts. “But the other choice is Hera’s wrath. And I’ve seen the terrible things that can happen…oh dear, listen to me ramble on.”

Frowning inwardly, Evaine hesitated. Why did it appear the queen had been about to say something and then changed her mind? How odd. “Have you ever met a good titled human?” she asked instead.

Siân brightened. “I have. Edward IV’s queen, Elizabeth Woodville, and her mother, Jacquetta of Luxembourg. Those two have certain otherworldly gifts and we had some very interesting discussions. Be wary of the new King Henry’s mother, though. In truth, be wary of anyone blindly enamored of the crucifix. They despise anyone who speaks, thinks, or acts differently to them. On many occasions in London I was tempted beyond measure to cull the human herd, but Cyrus usually stayed my hand.”

Evaine nodded solemnly. More than once she’d overheard Father saying the same thing about culling. Most wolves refrained; fortunately, there were countless ways for fragile humans to perish, and accidents or rash deeds could easily be concealed. “I will certainly need Alaric’s steady hand to stay me. Evaine the Bold sometimes doesn’t look before she leaps. On that note, we must go and rescue my poor mate. I believe he was entertaining the Oxfords in the library with mulled wine while we dressed?”

“Yes,” said Siân with a sigh. “Even diplomats can have their patience worn cobweb thin.”

Arm in arm, Evaine and Siân walked in companionable silence to Alaric’s library, the trains of their gowns swishing against the smooth stone floor. It was a little eerie how bare the hallway looked; all the gold and gilt that she barely glanced at now had been removed, along with most of the queen’s truly exquisite tapestries depicting wolves at play, hunting, or posing with their cubs.

Gah. Wretched humans.

Just before entering the room, Evaine paused and inhaled deeply of the delectable scent lingering around the door. While she wanted no part in entertaining human aristocrats, the chance to spend time with Alaric was most welcome. Especially in here, the place where they had already created so many lusty and truly magical memories; where their mating marks had risen, confirming their fate and future together. These past three days, where she had seen so little of her king, had been a great trial indeed.

“Alaric,” she said joyfully as she burst into the library, hurrying over to where he stood beside his desk. However, before she could throw her arms around his waist or go up on her toes to kiss him thoroughly, her mate very stiffly took her hand and placed a brief kiss upon it.

Twice wretched humans!

“My lady,” he replied formally, then looked past her and bowed at Siân. “Lady Mother. May I present the Earl and Countess of Oxford. Lord and Lady Oxford, you might remember my mother, the Lady Siân Beaumont, from court.”