Chapter 22
Fern
Eidan’s composure was hanging on by a thread as he stepped between her and Darion.
“You cannot be serious.”
Darion glared at his brother, crossing his arms. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Eidan…” his father sighed.
He whipped around to face Alastair, the head alpha’s eyes filled with compunction as he continued. “It’s within his right to claim her.”
Reinn came closer to Darion. “You already have my cousin, and she seems to keep you busy enough. Do you really think you can adequately care for an omega? You’d be half an alpha to her if not less, when she likely needs more than one.”
Her cheeks reddened, remembering what Tegen had long ago told her about women sometimes being shared by multiple wolfkin in order to stave off fighting.
Fern couldn’t deny that waking up between both Eidan and Reinn had felt more natural than perverse. She’d felt adored, cared for…
And more than anything, they’d made her feel safe.
And the gods knew how much she needed that right now, broken as she was. She grabbed onto Eidan’s arm, knowing she could. Knowing he’d not only let her, but wanted her to.
His hand patted hers, confirming this.
When Darion didn’t reply, Reinn continued. “You could not name the pull you felt towards her, and that’s understandable. The rest of the alphas here missed it, too. Only you twisted that confusion onto her as though she had done it on purpose.”
He let Darion sit in that truth for a moment, and then said, “Don’t take her due to guilt. You know that’s not what’s best for either of you.”
There was a moment where it looked like he might change his mind, and Fern’s grip on Eidan tightened, her body not knowing which way to lean.
It was so frustrating to be desired by someone who she knew had hurt her. The wanting so irrational, no matter how simple her wolf made it sound.
He claimed us.
As though that was enough.
And yet her body was telling her it could be.
“She is frightened of you,” Eidan said.
Darion’s jaw tightened, anger finally bleeding through. Anger Fern only knew too well.
Eidan continued. “I have spent weeks trying to undo what you did to her.”
The alphas stayed silent, while her body warmed to Eidan’s words.
He had been there for her, more than anyone else in the past month. If it weren’t for him, Darion would have cut off her hand or worse.
“She trusts me enough to sleep beside me,” he continued. “She lets me touch her without flinching.” He demonstrated by reaching over to touch her head and guide it to rest on his shoulder.
Fern let him without any resistance, closing her eyes and inhaling a shuddering breath.
“Do you understand how hard-won that was?”
Reinn watched but said nothing, and Eidan’s voice lowered.
“She needs stability. A gentle hand. A mate who will put her safety and needs above his own. You know that cannot be you.”
Darion raised an eyebrow in question. In defiance.
And then looked at Fern.
“Come here.”
Just two words, that was all, and Fern’s body obeyed before thought could catch it.
One moment she stood beside Eidan, and the next she was crossing the room.
Horror flooded her so quickly she nearly stumbled.
No.
No, she hadn’t meant—
But her wolf surged eagerly toward the bond, soothed by the command, by the certainty of him.
The one who’d marked her, who’d awakened her.
Fern stopped beside Darion, breathing hard, and he placed a steady hand on the back of her neck, pulling her in.
And damn it all to Solas’s Hells, his scent instantly undid her, and she whined in spite of everything. Still seeking him out. Still wanting him.
She could feel betrayal, hot and furious, coming off Eidan in waves, and silent tears rolled down her cheeks.
Weeks of his patience, his care, his kindness…
Undone by two words. One order.
“So that’s how you’re going to do this,” Reinn said softly, a hint of a challenge in his voice.
Fern closed her eyes, shame burning so hot she thought it might split her open.
“Darion,” Alastair warned. “I will not hear another whisper of her mistreatment, do you understand me? She is moon-blessed, and if you cannot care for her accordingly, I will find someone who can.”
Darion nodded once, and then led her out of the door. And she let him, unable to look back. She could not bear to see her failure reflected in Eidan’s eyes.
* * *
He did not speak to her as they walked, his hand on her neck more collar and lead than comfort.
She opened her mouth to speak, and then quickly shut it.
There were too many things she wanted to ask, but she did not know how he’d react to anything she said.
She recognized some of the twists and turns from the night she’d been brought to Kyntha’s room to clean, and she almost whined at the memory.
“You’re upset.”
Fern weighed her words carefully. “I don’t know where we’re going.”
Darion didn’t respond, and tension crept into her shoulders, causing his grip on her neck to tighten. “It’s not my intention to hurt you. You’ve proven your potential value to the clan. I only wish you’d done so sooner.”
Her next inhale stuttered, and she blinked back tears.
So it was her fault for not knowing something she couldn’t have possibly known.
And now she’d chosen the alpha who wanted her for her potential and utility. Not the one who’d cared enough to keep her whole before he knew her value.
“Then may I ask what your intention is?” Fern asked, eyes trained low. “If… if that’s acceptable.”
He grumbled to himself. “I thought omegas were supposed to be… sweet. Amusing. And yet you cower and squeak like a mouse.”
The words came too fast, and even as they spilled from her tongue, she braced for punishment. “I was myself until you made me the Ashpaw.”
But the harsh reprimand didn’t come, and his hold on her loosened.
“Clans thrive under strong alpha leadership,” he started slowly. “And you spent so many years as wolfkin without shifting, without the structure that our kind needs.”
His thumb drew small circles on her skin, and her shoulders began to drop.
“When I allowed you a few liberties, it was to ease you into your new role slowly, to help you adjust.”
A guard approached, then stood against the wall, bowing his head. He sniffed the air as they passed, and his head followed Fern until Darion’s hand tightened on her back.
“But it seemed instead to confuse you. You asked for more favors. You spoke too freely. And then the wolfkin began petitioning for you faster than I could refuse them. You were disrupting the order. And so I may have… over corrected.”
“I wasn’t trying to—”
“I know that now.”
Darion’s hand loosened further, fingers brushing briefly against her hair before settling at the middle of her back instead.
“You should have told me you were frightened of me.”
Fern nearly laughed at the absurdity of it. “You allowed the woman who beat me to go free, telling the whole clan it would be better if I died.”
A growl rumbled in his chest. “I admit I spoke unfairly. I was angry and did not understand why the guard was so protective of you. I understand now.”
He was silent for a moment, and then asked, “Who was it? Which she-wolf attacked you?”
“The same one who accused me of theft.”
He clicked his tongue against his teeth and sighed. “I am… grateful for my brother’s intervention.”
It was truly amazing how he could make his words sound like an apology without ever actually apologizing.
“I suppose she shall be the new Ashpaw, then, if that offers any comfort.”
But Fern shook her head. “It does not. I would wish for there to never be another Ashpaw again.”
“A pleasant wish, little she-wolf, and I’m only sorry I cannot grant it.”
At last, they stopped in front of a door, and he dismissed the guards with a wave of his hand.
One of them dipped his nose a little lower than needed towards her, and Darion immediately let go of her to grab him, slamming him against the wall on the other side of the hallway.
“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” he hissed.
“J-just curious, Alpha,” the guard stuttered. “She smells like…”
“Like an omega. Like my omega. And you’d do well to let the others know she’s not to be touched, sniffed, or looked at by anyone other than me. Am I understood?”
“Understood. My apologies, Alpha.”
He let him go, and the wolfkin hurried down the hall, straightening his leather armor.
“No one can even look at me?”
He whipped around to face her, his breathing heavy, and then he shook whatever had taken hold of him.
“If you knew what thoughts they held when they looked upon you, you would understand.”
Fern tightened the cloak around her, and took a careful step forward, her wolf nudging her from the inside. “Why? Do you hold such thoughts when you look upon me, too?”
His eyes darkened. “Aye, against all my better judgments.”
Fern frowned, and he gestured towards the door with a jerk of his chin. “Inside, then, so I may disrobe you and hold a few more.”
Her wolf practically vibrated with excitement, but Fern’s own heart was filled more with trepidation. The moon was still with him, after all, as it had been with Harland the night before.
And yet Eidan and Reinn had not looked at her with the heat that burned in his gaze as it roamed down her body, bare beneath the cloak Norden had insisted she wear.
She was thankful for it now.
Fern pushed the door open, the wood so thick and heavy that it took some effort.
The room beyond was enormous, though strangely sparser than she imagined for someone of Darion’s station.
A fire crackled low in a black stone hearth large enough for a man to stand inside, the heat washing over her chilled skin immediately. Thick rugs had been thrown across the floor, and heavy charcoal curtains framed windows that overlooked the forests.
The furniture was made of dark wood, carved smooth and without embellishment or flourish. A broad bed sat against the far wall beneath the carved crest of Sabletail, its gray blankets neatly topped with pelts.
Fern lingered near the doorway, suddenly aware of how small she looked standing inside a space built for an alpha.
She took a step inside, and he followed, closing the door behind her.