Chapter Twelve
I make my way up the spiral staircase to the library in the tower.
It’s cozy within, with a crackling hearth that casts a soft glow onto the shelves that line the walls. The room is smaller than I imagined it would be for an alpha who likes books—probably because there are tomes all over the castle. I’ve caught glimpses of them stacked in drawing rooms and bedchambers, and there are likely more in Blake’s room, too. There are still hundreds of them in here, and I’ve flicked through a few already.
The floorboards creak beneath my feet as I wander around, stroking the spines. There are a lot of medical books, which is what I’d expect for a healer, but also history, religion, and even fiction. Absently, I chew my fingernails as I try to decide where to start. I hiss when I accidentally tear a bit of skin from my finger, then I select a few of the big, leather-bound books at random.
The cushioned window seat looks out onto the loch and the burnt-orange mountains outside, and I place my pile on it. Outside, the water is covered with early morning mist. Even after all the violence I have seen in the Northlands, I’m awash with the sense of peace.
I’m about to settle down when a giggle permeates the silence. I startle. A small mop of dark hair peeks out from behind the door and I smile. “Hello, Alfie.”
He grins. “I’m going to pick a book,” he announces. “About flowers, or boats, or monsters.”
Elsie appears moments later, dressed in an elegant grey dress with long sleeves. Her dark hair is tied in a bun that emphasizes her cheekbones and bright eyes.
She taps Alfie on the shoulder. “Go on, then.”
The boy squeals, tears into the library, and starts pulling books from shelves. I cannot imagine Blake is going to be pleased about the mess. The thick air is uncomfortable, and I try to share a reassuring smile with Elsie in the hope it will put her at ease, but she doesn’t react. I wonder if I overstepped last night, when I pulled her child away from the priestess.
Tense, I sit down and pick up one of the books.
She sighs, then walks toward me. “Thank you for looking out for him last night,” she says.
My shoulders soften. “It wasn’t right, the way the priestess treated you both.”
“No. It wasn’t.”
She scans the bookshelf by the window seat. I feel as if there is something else she wants to say.
“Why did the Moon Priestess treat you like that?” I ask. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
Turning to me, she pulls up her sleeve. She has a tattoo on her wrist. It’s a key, with two crescent moons in the bow. My heart beats faster. It’s the mark from the chapel that reappeared in my dream last night. “I’ve seen this before,” I say.
She steps back and readjusts her sleeve. “It’s the mark of Oidhche.”
“The God of Night.”
“Aye.” Her expression is defiant. “It’s the symbol for his prison.”
My insides tighten as I remember what Callum said about Night’s Acolytes. Blake said Elsie was not one of them at the ceremony last night. I can’t help but ask. “Why do you have this?”
She folds her arms. “My father worshipped the God of Night if you must know.” The line of her jaw is as sharp as a dagger, and I know I’ve offended her. “He meant to sacrifice me to him, hence the mark.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” I bite my bottom lip. “My father doesn’t care too much for me, either. He used to have me beaten in one of the houses of worship in the name of the Sun Goddess.”
I instantly feel as if I’ve overshared, and I’m unsure why I want to connect with this wolf so badly.
“You must know exactly how I feel, then.” Her tone is sarcastic, and I blush.
“Where is your father now?” I ask.
“The night before I was supposed to be sacrificed, I prayed to the gods. They sent me my brother.” She smiles, and something in her expression makes me shudder.
“He killed him?”
“Aye.” She looks me up and down. “He’s not good at showing it, but he likes you, you know?”
I lean forward on the cushioned seat, and my eyebrows knit together. “Who?”
“My brother.”
“Your brother is here?”
“Aye?” Her forehead creases, and she looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “Blake.”
“ Blake is your brother? ”
I’m not sure why I’m surprised. I take in her dark hair, sharp jaw, sensual mouth, and slightly bad attitude. I can almost see it. It explains her lack of deference to him, too, as well as the slight yearning I’ve felt when they interacted. I wonder if they have a difficult relationship.
“Half-brother. We share a father.” Her nose turns up with distaste. “Bruce. He was alpha of this place before Blake got rid of him. He didn’t tell you?”
“No.” I align this with what I know. Blake told me once that he killed his father, and Jack told us Blake took a particular dislike to the alpha of Lowfell. I shake my head, my thoughts snagging on something else Elsie said. “And Blake doesn’t like me.”
“He’s going to war over you, isn’t he?”
“He’s going to war for himself.”
She shrugs. “If you say so.” She slides a book from the shelf. “The night he arrived at Lowfell and found me in the chapel, bound and beaten, Night’s mark on my wrist... I’ve never seen anything like it. It was like witnessing the wrath of the dark god himself. My brother is dangerous, make no mistake, but sometimes it doesn’t hurt to have someone like him on your side.” She passes me the book she’s holding, and I frown as I take it. “If you like stories, you should read this one.” I think I catch a hint of mischief in her otherwise serious expression. “Read it. It’s enlightening.”
Skirts brushing over the dusty floorboards, she heads to the exit of the library. “Come on, Alfie. Time to go.”
The little boy grabs a book, hurtles through the mess he has made, and pushes past her to the stairway. Elsie pauses, and looks me up and down. “Hmm,” she says.
“What?”
“Blake is hosting a feast tomorrow night so he and Callum can persuade Lochlan to join their cause. What are you going to wear?”
“I. . . I don’t know?”
She nods, solemn, as if she’s deciding something. “If you like, you can meet me outside after breakfast. Alfie and I are heading to the village. You can pick something out there.”
“I... okay.” Her footsteps fade as she descends the staircase.
I release a half-laugh. Perhaps I can make a friend in Elsie, after all.
Curiosity swells inside me as I look down at the small book she gave me. It’s well read, and the spine is broken. The Alpha and the Kitchen Maid is written across the front in black ink. A story, perhaps?
The scent of cooked fish drifts into the library, and my stomach grumbles. Blake’s clan don’t usually adhere to formal meal times, but with Lochlan’s clan arriving, Blake must be putting on a breakfast. I place Elsie’s book on top of my pile, scoop them up, and head to the staircase.
I’ve been aimlessly reading for days, and have got no further to an answer. I know Callum wants me to stay out of Blake’s way, but I have a better idea.
Plus, Blake didn’t inform either of us that he intended to entertain Lochlan this morning. One of us should be present to keep an eye on him.