29. Bloody Welcome
“ R oses are red, my dear, violets are blue. Posies are purple and they bloom for you. Robins will sing for you, nightingales too, meadowlarks court you but not as I do. Like rivers flow seaward, my love moves for you. Darling, forever I’ll ever be true.”
Rose sang from the bed of the open-air carriage. Larkin napped beside her on the blankets, and she smiled as a meadowlark, like the one from her song, landed on her shoulder and joined her. Lifting his head, Larkin eyed the creature and yawned.
The sun, now on its descent, cast long shadows. They’d just passed through a small town, where many people, mostly humans, shopped in the street stalls or little stores. Children played in the road, stopping to stare at the carriages rolling through. Though modest, unlike the ornate carriages the Royal Family normally used, the unfamiliar drew attention. Rose waved cheerfully and called greetings, brightened by the few responses .
The scent of animal dung made the human coachmen scrunch their noses. For Rose, it added a sense of reality to the romanticism of the idyllic countryside. The horses at pasture, cows grazing in herds, sheep dotting some of the hills, and pigs rolling in mud wallows painted a pretty picture. So, too, did the dancing fields of grain that stretched alongside them. Hay rustled, stretching for just as many acres, and then corn. Short leafy greens meant vegetables. And rows upon rows of fruit trees.
All were someone’s livelihood. All meant families working to provide.
A striking red cardinal landed on her other shoulder, and she stroked his pretty breast. Larkin gave an indignant huff and shifted to his tanager form. With her headache slight and mood high, she sang more. The human driver of her carriage hummed along. The more she sang, the more birds came to land on the wagon and join the chorus.
She hadn’t wanted to come on this trip. Not only did she fear the backlash, but also what it meant for her Prince’s future. Though she was heartsore at the way things must be, she would never wish to sabotage things for him.
But she had to admit, at least to herself, that she enjoyed the time away from the danger, politics, and everything that kept her and her Prince apart in the capital.
Things were so different here. The Prince was more relaxed and easier with his smiles. While they rested the horses every night, always away from the road, he read to her from some of the books he’d brought. He specifically packed poetry to romance her, and she loved it—the sound of his voice reciting prose as he teased her under the moon.
Several times they’d touched each other. It felt like such a naughty thing having their team so close while they got each other off. She’d had her Prince to the point of begging to come inside her twice.
But she could not give in to that kind of bonding. To some, it was perhaps silly. But Rose knew she would not recover when things inevitably ended.
And she could not take the tea he’d given her to prevent conception.
It had stunned her speechless the night he’d brought it up, the first night he’d panted for sex. She’d considered it, giving in as much as she craved, but then he’d told her that she must take an herbal concoction to prevent pregnancy.
She’d almost slapped his insensitive asshole face.
And then she’d walked away.
It had broken a piece of her and hit home that there was no scenario where she got anything good out of their relationship.
Any child of theirs would be illegitimate. A bastard. An outcast.
And the dirty little side piece was all she’d ever be.
It was as infuriating as it was saddening, especially since she could see more and more that her Prince genuinely cared for her.
Pushing away her suddenly morose mood, she studied the trees of the forest they’d been approaching for some time. According to Edwin, the human driver in charge of the open carriage she rode in, they were scheduled to arrive in Silvershade tomorrow.
But if she recognized the trees correctly, they were already there.
Silvershade Forest was named for the silver poplars whose leaves she could see the gray underside of, and the silver birch whose white bark was so striking. There were other trees too: beech, oak, maple, and some shorter tulip trees and sassafras. Leafy ferns crowded in places, moss grew in patches, and vines twined around some of the saplings.
It was beautiful, especially with the herd of deer creeping toward the tree line where there was more grass for grazing. Several fawns frolicked among them. Lifting their heads as the carriages rolled past, two deer bolted. Only an instant later, three wolves gave chase, scattering the herd, and all the birds on the wagon took flight. The wolves took down one of the does, killing it swiftly, and dragged it into the woods.
Rose’s heart pinched, but such was nature. All animals had to eat.
Were those predators werewolves? Being in the Silvershade Pack’s territory, it seemed highly likely. According to what she’d read, the Keep was just around the coming bend. Set back from the road down a lane lined with huge oaks, it stood, and Rose was both excited and nervous to get there.
As they rounded the long and gentle curve, several howls rang out, causing gooseflesh to rush over Rose’s skin. The sound of those calls was chilling, though somehow also eerily beautiful.
As shorter calls filled the air, two large wolves, one black and the other gray, appeared from the trees to flank the first carriage, which held luggage. The horses shied but settled at the hands of the human driver.
With their escort, they turned down the long lane. With massive trunks and wide, expansive canopies hung with dripping moss, the stately oaks were magnificent. And beyond them was the stone Silvershade Keep. Huge and imposing, the main body was square with ivy climbing the front, and tall square towers at the corners. The windows were large and mullioned, the roofs dark wood.
As more wolves, as well as those in human form—both male and female—gathered before the Keep, the carriages slowed and eventually stopped. With Prince Adrian asleep, Rose stood and stepped down from the carriage without waiting for any of the guards.
“No, Miss Rose,” the human knight Evan said, motioning for her to stay. “We don’t know if they’re hostile. Remain here. The Prince is being woken.” As Evan turned to approach the wolves, some growling lowly as another knight joined him, those assembled parted to allow a large male through.
Rose’s heart stuttered to see him, so big and imposing was he. Taller than those around him, at least as tall as her Vampire Prince, the male was all tan skin and thick muscle. Wide shoulders led to bulging biceps that flexed as he walked. His chest was all meaty pectorals, leading down to hard abs flanked by superb obliques. The only piece of clothing he wore was breeches that ended just below his knees. They clung to his thick quads.
An oppressive air surrounded him, heavy and thick, almost demanding submission. His alpha aura, she surmised. From what she’d read, it was the source of his power and kept him in control of his pack. If the weight of that aura meant anything, this alpha was as strong in werewolf magic as he was in muscular might.
Her knees trembled refusing his will, but she stepped forward away from her Prince’s protection. Evan followed, but she waved him away, and the alpha’s eyes snapped to her. They were a startling blue, deep and rich like none she’d ever seen. Around his face waved shaggy black hair, slightly curling. His mouth was full and firm, his jaw square and covered with dark stubble.
She almost faltered at his intensity, at the unwavering way he took her in. As he did, she noticed the tattoo on his left pectoral. It was black, several trees clustered with a rising moon shedding silver light. The silver in the black seemed to slightly shimmer, and Rose wondered how such a thing had been accomplished.
She lifted her eyes again, meeting his, and opened her mouth to speak.
But it was Evan who spoke first. “We represent His Royal Highness Prince Adrian.”
“And where is the bloody bastard? ”
Rose was surprised at the language, the slight lilting accent, and the insult. Stepping forward, just ahead of Evan, she bowed, making sure to maintain eye contact and not lower her head.
It was a show of deference, a sign of respect, but not full submission. She was glad for the dresses her Prince had packed for her because she wore a very nice lavender that fit the image she was trying to portray.
“His Highness is sleeping,” she said as she rose. “We have arrived earlier than expected.”
“And who are you?”
“I assume you are alpha here.” Sounding stronger than she felt, Rose ignored her pounding heart, thinking this male’s large muscles could crush her so easily. His half-naked form was distracting, and she wished he had a shirt on.
“I am Lord Aldric, alpha of this Silvershade Pack.” He motioned around him to his pack, some of whom whistled, cheered, or howled from their wolf forms. Stepping closer, ignoring the knights who set hands to their swords, raising a hand to stay the wolves that instantly growled and stepped forward in response, he said more quietly, “I appreciate the respect shown and inquire again, who are you who comes with the Prince?”
“My name is Rose,” she replied just as quietly, almost as if they were sharing a secret, and was shocked when he took her hand, bowing to kiss the back. “I am—”
“ Mine .” They both turned to Prince Adrian, looking a bit disheveled as he exited his carriage. “She is mine, you mangy mutt, so get your filthy fucking paws off her.”
Surprised at the chuckle she heard from Lord Aldric, who still held her hand, she opened her mouth. To say what, she wasn’t entirely sure, but before she had a chance, several wolves ran forward, doubling up to take down all of Prince Adrian’s guards .
Rose didn’t see it happen, so quick it was that by the time she blinked, every one of her Prince’s protective unit was on their knees, flanked by wolves with a pack member in human form holding a blade or other weapon to their throat or chest.
Her heart stuttered to see Prince Adrian like so, bleeding from one of his forearms and the opposite shoulder, his eyes burning with malice as another beefy werewolf male held him at sword point.
“You forget, Your Highness , that you’re on my territory,” Lord Aldric said, his brogue thickening. “Such disrespect is highly offensive. Perhaps a night in the cells will change your attitude.” He gave a nod to the burly male sneering at her Prince.
Helpless, Rose watched her Prince and his guards prodded to their feet and led away. In only a few steps Prince Adrian kicked out at the tan wolf closest to him, sending him to the ground whining, and immediately turned to another, grabbing its throat and slamming it to the ground. It howled in pain as more wolves jumped in to subdue him.
It all became a blur. So fast were the movements of the supernatural that she couldn’t follow with her lesser eyes. But the sounds—growls, barks, whimpers, and the gnashing of teeth from the wolves and the angry cries from her Prince and his guards—were such that twisted her insides.
Blood flew, the sharp teeth and claws of the wolves tearing open the flesh of her Prince and his guards, who fought back with their weapons as well as their fangs. The wolves that had been bitten fell back, the venom quick to incapacitate them. Those in human form took them away to be cared for while still more of the pack jumped in to take the place of the fallen.
“Please stop hurting them,” Rose begged Lord Aldric, who studied her. “Stop fighting. Your wolves are suffering too.”
Her attention was caught by the beefy male who’d held Prince Adrian at sword point as he took a hard punch from the Prince and stumbled back. A wolf jumped on Prince Adrian’s back, teeth digging into his already bloodied shoulder. As her Prince fought the wolf off, managing to toss him on the ground, the other male cursed angrily, swiped blood from his mouth, and strode forward. Rose’s heart tripped at the fury on his face, and she startled as he grabbed Prince Adrian’s head and butted him hard with his own, and then he punched him squarely in the nose. Blood spewed and Prince Adrian went down.
And then they were all dragged away. Every one of Prince Adrian’s entourage, including Timothy and Horace, was bleeding and wounded, unconscious and limp.
They’d had no chance of winning, Rose thought, surrounded as they were by the wolves that greatly outnumbered them.
Pressing her trembling lips together, she refused to show weakness by crying. Though she knew tensions between the crown and the wolves were high, she’d never imagined such violence or the possibility of capture.
She was only a maid, a former slave, and had no idea how to remedy this situation. She knew nothing of diplomacy, nothing of politics, and only what Prince Adrian had told her (and what she’d read in the papers) of the terrible relations between the wolves and vampires.
“We respond to aggression in kind and do not take threats lightly.” As Lord Aldric tucked Rose’s hand that he still held in his arm and pulled her toward the Keep, he continued, “No one from the capital has ever shown me deference. Are you truly different from them?”
Saying nothing, Rose took in the injured wolves being tended. “Will they be alright?”
Eyebrows raised, Lord Aldric followed her gaze. “Werewolves heal quickly. They’ll be right as rain in no time.” Lifting a hand, he gestured to the castle before them. “This is Silvershade Keep, and I welcome you here. While we figure things out with the narcissistic Prince, you will be our guest. Your things will be taken to one of our grander rooms, where I hope you will be comfortable.”
Rose looked over her shoulder at the carriages, seeing the trunks already being unloaded. “The horses will be cared for?”
“They will receive warm oats and fresh water in the barns.”
“They have worked hard on this long journey.”
Lord Aldric was only a few inches taller than she, though he seemed larger, and he was warm. Part of her felt guilty to be so close to another male. It seemed improper, and while she wanted to pull away, she also thought it would be rude and that was the last thing she wanted to be after what had already transpired.
So, she let Lord Aldric lead her through the large and imposing wooden doors of the Keep, almost twice her height and greater than her spread arm’s distance in width. Inside was a cavernous room.
“Welcome to our Great Hall.”
Rose took in the high ceilings with exposed thick wood beams. Tapestries depicting wooded scenes hung on the walls, and beautiful windows let in bright fingers of sunlight. Nestled in the forest and made entirely of stone, Rose had imagined the Keep being dim, damp, and chilly, but the light shining in lit and warmed everything.
Two massive wooden tables ran the length of the room, with a third at the head. Large vases of wildflowers served as centerpieces. She liked that, almost as much as the group of children that went running through laughing. A female followed, shaking her head.
“Damn heathens. Take the horseplay outside!” Blushing at Lord Aldric, she gave a short curtsy. “Alpha.” Eyeing Rose, she frowned and then hurried after her charges.
At the head table, Lord Aldric pulled out the chair to the left of the largest in the center, motioning for her to sit, and thanked the male who delivered three glasses and a clear bottle of dark liquid. Lord Aldric filled all three glasses—one for himself, one for Rose, and set the last at the place to his right.
The male who’d held Prince Adrian at swordpoint walked in from the opposite end of the hall and sat there. He still had blood on his face and bruises blooming on his jaw and along one side of his ribs. He studied Rose with silver eyes as he lifted the glass and drank deeply. His knuckles were red and raw, some of the skin torn. Like Lord Aldric, he had a tattoo of black trees and a silver moon, but his was on his left deltoid.
“They are set?” Lord Aldric asked.
“Bloody leeches wouldn’t stop fighting,” the brown-haired male answered in that melodic accent. “Had to knock two more of the stupid feckers out. They’re in the cells. I hope they fecking rot.”
Rose’s heart beat hard and fast at the images of a dark and dank dungeon like the ones she’d been confined to all too often as a slave. She hated the thought of her Prince in similar circumstances, unconscious and bleeding.
He would never last in that kind of situation.
She asked Lord Aldric, “May I see them?”
While the brown-haired male snorted, Lord Aldric leveled his steady gaze on her. “I think we should have a discussion first, milady.”
Being called a lady was strange, but she ignored it as Lord Aldric took a drink.
And then she noticed pack members—both in human and wolf form—stationed around the room. They appeared to be loitering, talking and joking, merry and jovial, but she knew they were watching.
They all protected their alpha, wary of the potential threat to their pack.
And she was very much out of her element, at the mercy of these wolves.