Page 124 of The Wolf Queen’s Curse

“You can also take a train to Glasgow, Newcastle, or Aberdeen,” Bishop says. “We will cover a first-class ticket for those who prefer that option.”

He waits for the excited rumbling to quiet and then says, “I won’t keep you much longer. I only want to acknowledge everyone who played such a crucial role in today’s events. First, I want to thank all of you. The fact we survived this without a single fatality is a testament to Pack werewolves everywhere, proof that we understand the value of every Pack brother. While we may be part wolf, we are not savage beasts. As in any family, we have our differences and may fight over them, but in the end, we are still brothers.”

Cheers and hollers ring out.

Once they die down, Bishop continues, “Thanks to Jesse, who helped me understand what was happening with the Cambrians, the injustices against the wolves there, including former Caledonians. Thanks to Rufus Cain, a former Albion wolf who graciously returned to help me as my temporary enforcer.”

Bishop leans out to look at Rufus. “Still temporary now that I’ll have a proper-sized Pack with formidable allies?”

“We’ll talk,” Rufus grumbles, to soft laughter.

“Thanks to Ann, Silas Stockwell’s niece and an invaluable member of the Albion Pack…” His voice softens as he looks at her. “For as long as she wants it.”

Ann’s color rises, but she only gives a curt nod.

“Ann stayed to help us—and stuck at my mate’s side today—despite what she endured under her uncle, and I will forever be grateful to her for that.”

He turns the other way. “Thank you to Edwin, Angus, and Dennis, for listening to me with open minds, and being willing to consider uncomfortable options for resolving this matter.”

Edwin bows his head in a nod. “And thank you, Bishop, for listening to our concerns and for going over and above ensuring they are respected.” He pauses. “And with that, I need to make a special thanks of my own.” Edwin steps from the line to look down it at me. “Thank you, Cordelia, for what you did out there on the battlefield. My father was willing to fight to the death. You knew we didn’t want that, and I’m told you said so, over and over, during your fight. Making it clear you would not kill him.”

He looks out at the others, voice rising. “For those of you who, like me, weren’t there, I want you to know what happened. Cordelia won her fight against my father. She defeated him. He gave quarter. Others heard it.”

He glances at the enforcer who’d been there, who nods and then, as if realizing that isn’t enough, says, “Aye. Edwin speaks true. Mrs. Danvers defeated him and showed mercy.”

“And I thank you for that,” Edwin says. “I know my father wanted to fight to the death, and you had every right to kill him, but you upheld your husband’s vow to us instead.”

Bishop clears his throat. “And, lest anyone think I forgot my mate in my thanks, I want to be clear that I was getting to that.”

Laughter from the wolves, and Angus says, “You’d better, or you’ll be spending a cold night on the floor.”

More laughter, with some ribald hoots.

Bishop says, “I left her for the end because she is the one I personally need to thank the most. Everyone contributed. Everyone deserves credit. But I personally would not be standing here if my mate hadn’t stepped in for me. She—and Ann—took the role of messenger. They spoke to Hamish. Cordelia conveyed my words, acting in my stead. That was all I wanted. I fully trusted her to speak for me, when I needed to stay in wolf form. I did not ever intend for her to fight Hamish. Everyone had been told to leave him alone, and I was otherwise engaged.” He nods at the enforcer, who respectfully nods back.

Bishop continues, taking my hand now, “I asked Cordelia to keep Hamish safe, and in the end, that meant fighting him, to ensure he stayed out of the melee, where he might be injured. She risked her life to do this thing that she knew was important. Important to the Campbell brothers, yes. To the Caledonian Pack, yes. But also to me, who desperately did not want to start an alliance with the death of the Caledonian Alpha.”

His voice rises. “To that end, Cordelia fought and defeated an—”

I cut him off with a hard squeeze on his hand. His jaw sets. He wants to say what he started to. That I fought and defeated an Alpha. Not Hamish Campbell. An Alpha. Which means, technically, I won the Caledonian Pack. It’s not that easy, of course. I’d need to win his wolves’ support as Alpha, which would never happen, but Bishop wants them to know what I did. To be sure it resonates with them. That I’m not merely an Alpha’s mate. That I won an Alpha fight.

But I don’t want that. It’s rubbing their noses—and Hamish’s—in what they’d consider an ignominious defeat.

I know what I did. Bishop knows what I did.

That is enough.

After a moment, he nods and reaches to embrace me, whispering “Thank you,” loud enough for others to hear.

Then he steps back. “All right. Is it time to celebrate?”

“Hell, yes it is,” Angus says. “Bring out the whisky!”

FORTY-FOUR

“This way,” Bishop says, holding my hand as we run like children through the darkened castle courtyard.

My brain spins from celebratory whisky, but it spins even more from seeing his giddy joy and relief that has nothing to do with alcohol.