Chapter Four
I pull back from Callum. Hurt and confusion battle for dominance in my chest. “What do you mean? I don’t belong to anyone, least of all James.”
The rain has become more ferocious outside, and it drums against the arched windows as Callum drags his teeth over his bottom lip. “Technically, you do, Princess.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s wolf law.” Callum’s broad shoulders are hunched, as if he’s carrying a great weight. I wonder how many times he’s had this conversation with Blake and the others while I’ve been bedridden. “Usually, when a half-wolf is bitten, if they survive they become part of the clan of whoever bit them. The alpha of that clan must take responsibility for them. They essentially become the alpha’s property. James is from Highfell. If he’d not been king when he’d bitten you, you would have been mine. James outranks me. He has a claim to you. Wolf law dictates that if he asks for you, you must go to him.”
My legs feel shaky—from the fever or shock, I don’t know. I place a hand on the edge of the oval table to balance myself. The thought that the male who attacked me, who has forever changed my life, thinks of me as his property makes my blood run cold. Anger twists in my chest, and my heartbeat thunders against my ribs.
Blake is backlit by the roaring fire in the hearth. Jack leans against the table. I hate that they are witness to this. I hate that they have all discussed this without me. I swallow my emotion, and bury it deep.
“That’s ridiculous,” I say. “Just because James says something doesn’t make it so. I don’t belong to him.”
Blake drums his fingers on the map. “Be that as it may,” he says, “if he asks for you back and we refuse, it puts us in breach of wolf law. The optics are bad—to have a future king refuse to adhere to the rules that bind all Wolves.”
Unlike Callum, there is no emotion in his voice. He speaks as if me being another man’s property is of no consequence to him. I note his wording, too. A future king. He doesn’t want to be in breach of wolf law because it may ruin his prospects for the throne, not Callum’s.
My gaze snaps to his. “So you plan to hand me to him?”
Callum puts his hand over mine. His palm is hot and calloused, and his touch offers me some comfort. “No. Never.”
“There’s a simple solution,” says Blake. “Another alpha must claim you before James officially asks for your return.”
I note that Blake doesn’t name Callum as the alpha who must claim me, as if he himself is an option. Jack watches Blake carefully, his lips pinched in the corners. He seems to have noticed this too, and doesn’t look like he approves.
“What are you talking about?” I say. “I don’t want to be ‘claimed’. What does that even mean?”
Blake shrugs. “An alpha would mark you with their bite, and announce you as part of their clan in front of witnesses. The claim is stronger if it happens at a celestial event, or in the presence of a priestess, but it’s not always necessary.”
When I shake my head, it throbs. “Absolutely not.”
“Not even if it would keep you safe?” asks Callum.
I flinch. He agrees with Blake. They have had this conversation before without me too, then. “No.”
Callum brushes his thumb over my knuckles. “If you’re worried about the pain—”
“No.”
Hurt flickers across Callum’s face, and I realize he thinks I’m rejecting him. Perhaps this is the way of Wolves—to dominate, and claim ownership over one another. Perhaps this is the way of all men. I belonged to my father. I was given to Sebastian. I was taken by Callum. I was used as a pawn by Blake.
For the first time in my life, I have tasted freedom here in the Northlands winds. I have smelt it in the pine-rich forests, and seen it in the wild mountains and rain-drenched valleys. I have felt it too in the warmth of Callum’s arms. I have a chance here to be an equal instead of a prize. I won’t give that up so easily.
I sigh. “I cannot belong to anyone again. Not even you, Callum.”
Callum’s expression softens. “It’s not about belonging to someone . It’s about being part of a clan. It would make it easier for me to protect you.”
“I don’t belong to you or your clan,” I say. “I have a title already. I’m the princess of the Southlands. Perhaps, after everything that has happened, that does not count for much. I’m sure my father would execute me for treason if he knew I was not being held against my will. Still, I cannot denounce my position and title, nor defer to an alpha. I will not.”
Callum’s forehead creases. “It’s not like that, Princess. It would keep you safe—”
“I’m not safe! From the moment you and Blake attacked James, you declared war on him. James has obviously realized that I’m of some importance to you. This will not stop him. He will come for me all the same. Are you going to let him take me?”
Callum’s expression darkens . “ Never .”
I take a deep breath to compose myself. “It doesn’t matter whether he says I belong to him or not. He is trying to rattle us. We must get the clans on side so we can win this throne quickly, and we must get Fiona back. Before James has time to act.”
There’s a knock at the door. “Yes?” Blake asks.
A crop of messy copper hair comes into view as Ryan pokes his head into the room.
Callum exhales. “What is it, Ryan?”
Despite Callum’s clear exasperation at the interruption, my lips curve into a smile. Ryan’s freckled face breaks into a grin when he sees me. “Princess! You’re awake!”
“Ryan!” Callum snaps his fingers, drawing the sixteen-year-old boy’s attention back to him. “What is it?”
“Can I have a word in private?”
“Now?”
“Aye.”
Callum’s gaze sweeps across the room, and the men in it. “It can’t wait?”
“No.”
Callum squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll just be a moment. Let me know if you if you need me, okay?” I nod, and he follows Ryan into the corridor, shaking his head. “I swear to Ghealach , lad, if this isn’t important—” His words are cut off as the door swings shut behind him, and I’m sealed shut in a room with two Wolves who are plotting against Callum and me.
Tension tightens my throat, and my teeth tingle—like I want to bite something. The urge to either cross the room and sink my teeth into Blake, or gnaw my fingertips until they’re bloody, is so strong that I ball my hands into fists.
When the feeling doesn’t desist, I trace the jagged outline of the northern coast on the map, Blake’s sleeve brushing against my hand. I catch a few names— High Peaks , Oidhche Craig . Highfell must be up here somewhere. I spot it by a patch of land named Glen Ghealach .
Blake whispers something. There’s a shuffle, heavy footsteps, and Jack walks past me. He winks then disappears into the corridor and shuts the door.
My gaze moves slowly up to Blake.
I can’t help but think of the fever dreams I had—of his eyes, as black as night, of his laughter skittering across my bones, of him bleeding into shadow and coiling around me like a viper. In the daylight, he is just a male—a wolf—and yet my pulse kicks up as if I’m prey.
“Alone at last, little rabbit.”