Page 31 of The Wolf Queen’s Curse

When Julius glances my way, Bishop says, “Yes, I’m questioning a decision in front of Cordelia. She doesn’t need me to pretend otherwise.”

“Good,” Julius says. “I honestly don’t know, Bishop. Strategically, it works. Kenric was part of the Pack before we joined. He’s older than us. Strong enough to help if we run into trouble. Quiet enough that he won’t talk when we need him to stay silent. And it gives us time to better gauge his thoughts and loyalties, which I completely failed to do last night.”

“But you did get him drunk?” Bishop says.

Julius throws up his hands. “He was inebriated, and he still barely said a word. I gave him money to bet on a fight and when he won, he offered the winnings and I said to keep them. When he expressed interest in visiting the back rooms, we did that and he enjoyed…” He clears his throat.

“The companionship of companionable ladies?” I say.

“Yes. He should have thoroughly enjoyed himself, but I can’t even be sure he did.”

“Was it too much?” I ask.

“Too obvious that he was being plied with liquor and enticements, possibly as a bribe to win his loyalties? I tried to be careful there. I didn’t push alcohol on him. After he won the bet, while I didn’t accept his winnings, I didn’t offer more money either. He even paid for his companion, and going into that part of the club was his idea.”

“Did he say anything?” Bishop asks.

“You saw what he was like on the train. Barely a full sentence in two hours. It was the same. He drank. He gambled. He…” Another cough, this one with a rueful smile for me. “While he seemed to want all of that, I can’t even say he enjoyed it.”

“Perhaps it was the company,” Bishop says.

Julius glares at him. “I know you’re teasing, but I wondered that myself. He seemed content with me, and when he did speak, it was to encourage me to keep talking.”

I ask, “Could he have been hoping you’d say something while in your cups?”

“Who knows? I drank less than I seemed to, and my conversation was all meaningless chatter.”

“I really hope we have not made a mistake in bringing him,” Bishop says somberly.

“I hope so, too.”

Rufus Cain’s flat is in a decent part of Leeds, neither fancy nor impoverished. Julius knocks, with Bishop at his shoulder, leaving me tucked slightly to the side in the narrow, shadowy hall. When Rufus answers the door, I immediately know why he’d worked for Bishop’s father. The man is as big as his cousin—Silas’s now-deceased enforcer, Henry. Rufus fills the doorway as he leans against the frame, braced on one arm, dressed casually with his shirtsleeves rolled up. Although, possibly, given the size of those forearms, the sleeves might just not roll down.

Bishop says he’s forty, but he looks in his early thirties, with a shock of uncombed dark auburn hair.

“You know you could have stayed the night here,” Rufus says in a deep rumble of a voice.

“We would never impose like that,” Julius replies.

“Could be considered rude, coming to my city and staying somewhere else.”

“We respect your territory.”

A snort. “You’re Pack wolves already. Fuck that. The only problem I have is if you kill humans on my territory, which you are not going to do. Next time…” He trails off and inhales and then leans out the door. “Oh, fuck me,” he says when he sees me.

“Language,” Bishop murmurs.

“You stole Silas’s girl? And don’t tell me she’s not his. She has his eyes and his hair.”

“I didn’t steal her. May we please come—?”

Rufus inhales louder. “Why does she smell like wolf?”

Bishop sighs. “Perhaps we could not have this conversation in the hallway?”

Rufus throws open the door and backs up. We step into a small flat smelling of a fresh-cooked breakfast. Rufus grabs his full plate from the table, and drops into a chair and resumes eating.

“May I introduce my wife,” Bishop says. “Cordelia…”