Page 44 of Wolf Duke

Evaine’s voice burst so clearly into his mind that he actually looked around the room for her. Naturally, she wasn’t there. “Evie?”

“Oh! You heard! I wasn’t sure if our bond link would work this far apart.”

“I don’t know either,” he admitted. “Maybe there is a distance limit, or perhaps we can each be in any place. Where are you?”

“On horseback, with my guards. We are about a half-mile away from you.”

“Is something wrong?”

She paused briefly. “I must speak with you. Urgently. Face to face.”

Alaric stood so fast that his chair actually wobbled, before righting itself with an audible slap onto the floor. “I must take my leave. The queen is on her way here and requests an audience at once.”

All the dignitaries within the room stilled, their brows creasing in concern and surprise, and questions began firing at him like a flurry of arrows.

“Is our queen well?”

“Did something happen at the manor house?”

“Mercenaries? Surely they wouldn’t dare.”

Alaric clenched his jaw. “I believe Queen Evaine is unharmed. But something has happened. As soon as I know, I will pass on any necessary information.”

With that he turned on his boot heel and strode from the meeting, his speed increasing as he reached the hallway until he was leaping down the stairs and running for the front door, utterly uncaring if he knocked something over. He had one need: to see his mate, to know for certain that she was well. Evaine the Bold wouldn’t ride to him without cause. If anyone had upset or hurt her, he would personally disembowel them.

It seemed to take forever, but at last three riders appeared over the rise, galloping toward the estate. Alaric waited as patiently as possible even as perspiration gathered at his neck. When they pulled up, he marched straight to Evaine and lifted her from her horse. Then he curled his arm around her waist and guided her into an empty antechamber inside the manor house.

“Tell me everything, sweetheart,” he said simply.

Instead of answering, she wrapped her arms around his waist, burrowing against his chest. Instinctively, Alaric’s arms closed around her, holding Evaine tightly until she stopped shaking. Then his mate leaned back a little, met his gaze, and said one word: “Silas.”

Alaric froze. “Theda’s soothsayer?”

“Yes,” said Evaine, resting her cheek against his chest, her fingers restlessly tangling in his doublet fabric. “I was greeting a peasant family when he arrived…Silas lured me over by offering a blessing, then took my hand and wouldn’t let go. He said the most terrible, wicked things. I…I banished him, said that if he ever returned, I would personally rip his heart out.”

Alaric nodded at the fierce promise in his queen’s voice. Indeed, his courageous, passionate Evaine would never shy from a battle. But he didn’t like that she had skimmed over details like a rock bouncing across a stream. It was true: a strong bond meant sharing everything. “Good. Now tell me, what were the terrible, wicked things?”

Just briefly, her fingernails dug into his doublet. “They were about you. And Theda. Silas said you pushed her down the stairs and that I was next.”

Alaric braced for another ragestorm to overcome him. Instead, a strange, eerie calm descended. “I will have his head for that,” he said slowly. “Was there anything else?”

She nodded miserably. “Silas claimed there would soon be a reckoning between me and Guy Saville. A battle. And death. That we would be removed from power—with the help of the Book of Lore, Guy would take the throne instead.”

Filthy. Wretched. Bastard.

Abruptly, Evaine laughed, the sound very watery. “Yes. Yes, he is.”

Moving his hands to cup her face, Alaric blotted her tears with his thumbs, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You are more precious to me than all the gold in the Western Lands. Than Blackstone Castle. Anything or anyone. There is no way on Leto’s earth that I will allow any harm to befall you. Do you understand, Evie? You are my queen. My fated mate. Mine.”

Evaine turned her head, her lips brushing his palm. “I understand, my king.”

After taking her in his arms once again, they stood silently in the antechamber, just holding each other. But all the time, Alaric’s mind raced. The latest overture from the Eastern Lands emissary for peace and trade resumption made a certain malevolent sense now. They held out their hand to shake, while hiding a dagger in their sleeve.

Well. If Guy Saville wanted a war, he would get one. And if he or his little soothsayer Silas thought to raid and conquer the Western Lands, they would soon learn in the most agonizing, bloody way what a mistake that would be.

The only question remaining: when.

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