The Wolf Lord (Ars Numina Book 3) Page 3

  “Sorry to keep you standing in the cold,” Thalia said. “But unfortunately, I had no notice of your arrival. Perhaps your response was lost in the ether?”

  “I wanted to surprise you, but somehow you seem less than delighted. Don’t you enjoy the unexpected, Lady Silver?”

  “Not even a little.” Her eyes pierced him, sparks of ire not shown in her buttery voice. “Come inside. I’ve requested that they lay the table for guests, but I fear you may find our hospitality wanting due to lack of preparation.”

  She’s testy. This will be fun.

  “I did note the lack of dried herbs and wreaths, there’s no quartet caroling best wishes for our health and prosperity, and you haven’t spoken a single ceremonial word in greeting.”

  Thalia paused. “Since this isn’t an occasion of state, I didn’t think you would wish to participate in the formal rite of hearth and home.”

  In fact, she looked a little surprised that he even knew about it. Raff figured that he probably should be offended, but it was so much fun to bait her that he decided not to pursue the issue. “It’s fine. I know my part by heart, though. I’m not quite the barbarian that you seem to suppose.”

  Her fair cheeks pinked, though that might be the icy wind. “This way, then. It won’t do to keep your people standing in the weather.”

  Winter’s grasp had been broken, but the full bloom of spring was still weeks away. Since Daruvar stood poised between sea and sky in the foothills, it felt colder here than it did in the well-forested basin that Raff called home. Eventually, these fierce slopes would be covered in yellow and purple wildflowers, but he likely wouldn’t be here that long. A few days, a week at most, and he should be able to melt the ice off Princess Thalia enough to get her to agree to his terms.

  The wolves followed her small party across the courtyard and through an open arch that led into a dark corridor. There were niches with broken cables and dead bulbs, stacked crates full of supplies, and a constant parade of Eldritch warriors giving him the death stare. Raff ignored the chill atmosphere, keeping pace until they went up a couple of flights, stepped into another hallway—this one better lit—which opened into a salon decorated in what had surely been the latest style, two hundred years ago.

  He took in handwoven rugs in red and gold abstract patterns, furniture that was solidly built as if to survive a shelling, covered with shiny, tasseled cushions. A long table dominated the space, ornate carvings of flowering vines on the legs, and the solar lamps were dim, lending the room a faintly sinister air. The food looked good, and they had been traveling long enough that he appreciated that she wasn’t forcing a lot of officious nonsense on his tired, hungry team.

  “Please, be seated,” Thalia invited.

  Raff wasted no time in accepting the offer. He couldn’t recall if any of his predecessors had ever dined with the Eldritch outside of the Pax Protocols. History wasn’t his strong point; in fact, he’d hated books, not least because they made him feel stupid and inadequate. At every opportunity, he’d ditched his tutors, skipped out on classes, and spent as much time as he could in the wild, even before he learned to shift.

  Once Raff was settled, his small entourage took their places beside him, leaving Thalia to sit opposite. Mags waited until everyone was seated, a move he read as a precaution in case someone tried something. If anyone came at him inside Daruvar, though, it wouldn’t be with violence. The Eldritch were known to be cunning poisoners, so he might never see death coming.

  Hopefully I’ll smell it.

  The food was simpler than it would’ve been, had he sent word of his intention: steamed vegetables and hastily grilled fish. For the Eldritch, there were also platters of fruit and cheese, raw greens tossed in oil. No fancy sauces or long-simmered nut and bean soups with complex layers of flavor. If memory served, many of the Eldritch were vegetarians or if not, they ate what could be pulled from the sea.

  “Will you speak a blessing?” Thalia asked.

  The woman to her left, venerable in age if Raff was any judge, curled her mouth slightly in dubious amusement. Does she think we’re heathens? Lord Talfayen had certainly considered the Animari little more than beasts. If such prejudice persisted in his daughter or her people, this alliance was doomed.

  “Dear Mother, watch and guard us from harm. Keep us from our enemies and help us walk your path. For the bounty we are about to receive, I bless and thank you.”

  “Well-spoken,” the elder Eldritch woman said with a touch of surprise. “You have something of a silver tongue, a rare gift.”

  Raff smiled. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  3.

  Against all odds, dinner progressed smoothly.

  The wolf lord was good at keeping the conversation moving without lingering too long on subjects painful and awkward. Judging from Lileth’s surprised expression, she seemed to find him improbably charming. Thalia said only enough to be polite, instead observing interactions between her guests. There were six of them: Raff Pineda, Magda Versai, and four other wolves, whose first names she memorized dutifully—Janek, Tavros, Bibi, Skylett.

  Janek was a tall, venerable wolf with weathered skin, silver hair, and a neatly trimmed goatee while Tavros radiated a youthful charm, tousled brown hair and wide gray eyes, slight of build and perpetually interested in everything. As for Bibi, she was a tall brunette with hazelnut eyes and golden skin. Sky stood no taller than Thalia, but her onyx curls made her memorable, especially when paired with tawny skin and cognac eyes. Really, the whole wolf party was quite attractive in various ways.

  “Would you care for dessert or an after-dinner drink?” Thalia asked, belatedly aware that she had been studying her guests for a beat too long.

  Raff shook his head. “My people are tired. They didn’t rest well on the road, and we dodged a number of patrols on our way to you.”

  Thalia’s brows shot up, but she waited until the rest of the guests filed out, Lileth shepherding them to the rooms they had been assigned. Once the two of them were alone, Thalia started to ask, “Are there Golgoth this far—”

  “Eldritch. But we had no way of knowing what allegiance those scouts had, and it seemed best not to engage.”

  Unease prickled along her spine, dispelling the momentary comfort created by a decent meal and affable conversation. “What route did you take into the foothills?”

  “Through Velder’s Pass.”

  Thalia nodded. “How many groups?”

  “Five, two close to Daruvar.”

  “Those were probably my people, but it was wise to avoid them. We didn’t have word that you were incoming, and it might have escalated. We’ve gone wrong that way before.” The rest of the troops, she had known were moving on Daruvar, but the arrival of the wolves changed things significantly.

  “You mean when you attacked the cat king in exile?”

  “It wasn’t an attack!” This was a sore point, and she’d already apologized to Gavriel until her throat was raw. Only a not-so-secret love had paved the way to his continued service; she was less sure if he’d forgiven her. It also pissed her off that this bastard could refer to a personal failure so casually.

  “That may not be how you meant things to go, but that’s how it ended up,” Raff said. “You don’t win points for good intentions.”

  She set her teeth, so it was tough to get the words out. “I don’t require your advice.”

  “I can tell it’s a touchy subject, so never mind. Can you show me to my room?”

  She choked back the words ‘if you’d gone with Lileth, I wouldn’t have to’ and offered a cordial nod. “This way, please.”

  An awkward silence fell as she left the dining hall and guided him through the stone hallways. Raff rubbed his hands over his arms. “Damn chilly. I should go wolf.”

  “Do as you please,” she muttered. “Here we are.” Thalia threw open the door and swept an arm, indicating the room, already lit with solar lamps. “If you’re cold, I can have a fire lit in the hearth
.”

  “How delightfully archaic, but I can build my own blaze, should I desire one.” The wolf sent her a look that she gathered was meant to be seductive.

  She ignored the innuendo. “I suppose you should know something about woodcraft. Good night, then.”

  Thalia left without looking back and by the time she got to her room, Lileth was there waiting for her. “It’s a good thing the wolves didn’t bring more honor guards,” she said.

  “Did everyone seem comfortable enough?” Half of Daruvar wasn’t fit for habitation, but she wouldn’t have it said that Eldritch hospitality was lacking, even under such haphazard circumstances.

  Lil hesitated. “I had to send four of their folks to the barracks. Be prepared to hear complaints in the morning.”

  A strain of bias ran through her people, and some of them looked down on the Animari. She had to make it clear that she would give no space to such sentiments. While she wished she had a better solution than Raff Pineda, that was a personality preference. Under ideal circumstances, she would choose someone measured and rational, not a hot-tempered scoundrel. His attachment to Magda Versai hadn’t escaped her notice, either.

  Already she had questions; those two were close in Ash Valley and it was impossible not to wonder if Magda was the mistress she would contend with long-term, provided this marriage went through. Overall, it seemed more probable that the woman was the first of many, as the wolf lord didn’t seem like the loyal sort. Their relationship would likely be for show, displayed primarily on formal occasions. A pang went through her, a fleeting wish that things could be different, but Thalia shook her head, putting the issue aside. She didn’t need fidelity as part of their arrangement.

  Still, she fought a tide of weariness as she said, “I always am. It all worked out, at least.”

  Lil always saw more than she let on. Her neutral response revealed none of her private conclusions. “You should get some rest. It will be a long day tomorrow.”

  Normally, she would ignore such suggestions and work until her eyes shut at her desk, but Lileth had a point. She needed to be both clearheaded and charming when she took Raff on a tour of the fortress first thing the next morning. Her aide had already put together a sample schedule of how she could best dedicate her time before they settled into the serious business of negotiating the marriage contract.

  Thalia muttered an assent as Lileth left her quarters. The room still didn’t feel familiar, as she hadn’t been staying here long, and the gray stones held fast to the last of winter’s chill, despite spring relative proximity. She threw the heavy maroon curtains wide to let in a faint trickle of moonlight and for a moment, she stared up at the starry sky. Thalia knew she shouldn’t be weary so early in the game, but she had been fighting silently, slowly, for decades already.

  Her heart ached too; there had been no opportunity to mourn her father’s death. Her followers wouldn’t understand that even if he had been venal and wrong, he’d still given her life, and before he passed the point of no return, he’d taught her to play Kingcross and always read epic poems aloud at her bedside when she couldn’t sleep. Now, he was known as the maniac who had betrayed his people, the Pax Protocols, and allied with a murderous despot, killing his own in the process. Thalia might never be able to overcome that legacy because the Eldritch had long memories.

  Sighing, she changed into her pajamas—utilitarian blue cotton that might surprise anyone who expected greater elegance—when a soft tap sounded. Thalia opened the door, expecting to find Gavriel with a list of issues that couldn’t wait. Instead, it was Raff Pineda, leaning on the opposite wall with a bottle of wine tucked under one arm. He sauntered forward, offering a crooked smile like a flower bouquet.

  “You look like you need a drink. And I owe you an apology. It’s one thing to be feckless, another to be unkind.”

  It was impossible to be elegant or dignified in bare feet and blue pajamas, so she settled for returning an icy stare, ignoring his peace offering. “We haven’t yet come to an agreement, and we are not in a relationship where such informality is permissible. Therefore, this is…” She couldn’t find a word that encompassed both the audacity and impoliteness, so she settled for, “Rude.”

  “Lady Silver, I never would’ve guessed that you’re such a stickler for the proprieties.”

  “Why do you insist on calling me that?”

  “You are a lady and your hair is like molten silver,” he said, sounding so reasonable that for a few seconds, Thalia felt like a dimwit for asking. Then he added with disarming perception, “Plus, I thought it might trouble you to be addressed by your surname.”

  Damn it, he was right. Until she redeemed House Talfayen, she certainly didn’t want to hear the name on anyone’s lips. “You may call me Princess Thalia.”

  A smirk curled his mouth as he ambled past her into the bedroom. “Who’s crowned you? Isn’t that why you want an alliance with Pine Ridge?”

  Her weariness evaporated in a burst of iridescent anger. With a muffled snarl, she snatched the wine bottle and slammed the door behind him. “By all means, let’s drink.”

  The Eldritch princess’s room was impersonal, devoid of mementos. As Raff understood, she had led a failed rebellion against her father decades ago, and since then, Lord Talfayen had kept her in seclusion. Even that hadn’t stopped her from exerting tendrils of influence. That took a level of determination that he would be a fool to disregard. This woman could be his chief ally or his greatest enemy.

  Time to make an effort.

  He pulled the corkscrew from his pocket and deftly twisted the cork from the wine bottle. It was a light, sweet wine he’d accepted as a gift in Ash Valley, before everything went to hell. It seemed like a melancholy moment, cracking this bottle open and drinking down the fermented fruit of more peaceful times.

  “Do you have glasses?” he asked.

  She was annoyed, he could tell, but he had no intention of sticking to an itinerary. If Thalia couldn’t be flexible, they had no future.

  In answer, she brought two ceramic mugs, one slightly chipped. “Will these do?”

  “Perfectly. May I sit?”

  “As if you’d listen if I said no,” she muttered.

  “Of course I would,” he said, startled and more than slightly offended. “If you want me to leave, I’ll go. Never in my life have I lingered when someone wanted me gone.”

  Her gaze narrowed on him for a few seconds, then she seemed to accept his sincerity. “You said you were tired earlier.”

  “I said my people were,” Raff corrected.

  “That…is true.”

  “Now that they’re settled, we should have a private chat.” He hadn’t wanted to spend more time with others judging their interactions, especially that angry, red-eyed Noxblade.

  “I’m willing.” Her tone was a little less grudging, at least.

  The furniture was more comfortable than it looked since it was sturdy wood topped with cushions. Raff settled on the bench opposite and poured two mugs of Ash Valley Moscato. He liked the look of Thalia a bit more in the warm solar glow, her hair spilling like mercury over narrow shoulders. Even the blue pajamas suited her, tailored and crisp, a trifle too long so that the piped hem came down nearly to her toes. She sat like a child, curling her legs to the side. It was difficult to grapple with the fact that she was so much older and would live for many years after he was gone, unless she overused her gift.

  “In such weather, we should mull this with cinnamon and spice,” he said.

  “Wouldn’t red wine be better?”

  “It works with white as well. To your health, Lady Silver.” Raff raised his cup and she surprised him by leaning forward to clack her’s against his.

  “Back at you, Lord Wolf.”

  “Until now, the only time we’ve spent alone was when we were on the ramparts, with you firing like a Valkyrie. You were impressive that night.”

  She smiled, coolly pleased. “I would be interested in sparring with you so
metime. I’ll even let you choose the weapon.”

  “I suspect you’ll have the advantage, as I’ve never studied any weapon. There was simply no reason.”

  “Oh.” She looked like she’d forgotten, momentarily, that he could shift. “I’m not sure how it would work out then, if I’m fencing and you’re a wolf.”

  “I might get skewered,” he said, taking a sip.

  “Or I might get badly bitten.”

  “Such a possibility exists.”

  Thalia surprised him by laughing softly. “I thought you’d swear that you’ll never hurt me, that you’re quite a harmless wolf.”

  He liked the amused light in her eyes; someone without a sense of humor would make a dismal life partner. “I’ll only promise that if we come to an agreement. I’m not in the business of making vows that I won’t keep.”

  “That’s good to hear,” she said.

  “Shall we play a game?”

  “Kingcross?” She looked so hopeful that he couldn’t bring himself to say that he’d intended to suggest something else. “There’s an old board around here somewhere…”

  Before he could respond, she got up and rambled around the room, opening drawers here and there, until she produced a gleaming wooden box. It unfolded to reveal the bone and blood hues of an expensive antique. Something like this would be an absolute heirloom in Pine Ridge, probably displayed behind protective glass. Her careless attitude spoke volumes about how different their peoples perceived the passage of time.

  With eager fingers, she set out the pieces, artfully carved from alabaster and onyx. King and Queen, Knight and Squire, Priest and Nun. “Choose your color, sir.”

  Raff pulled the dark pieces to his side of the board. “What else can a black wolf be?”

  “Is that what you change into?” Her curiosity seemed genuine as she arranged the pale figurines on her side.