15. Harlow #3
I jog to catch up to him. “Can’t imagine why?”
“And I thought I wouldn’t answer.” He grins at me. “Unless, of course, you want to trade secrets. I’ll tell you where I get the water if you tell me why you murder men.”
I sigh. It’s not as if I thought it would be easy, but it would at least be nice if he didn’t get such pleasure out of goading me.
They must have someone sourcing them in Lunameade.
I should tell Kellan about it—maybe them taking from the well without permission is corrupting the water that flows through the well.
But before I tell him, I need to understand what they’re using it for.
Kellan can be a bit quick to assume he knows what’s best, and if the well water can truly give an edge against the Drained, that’s worth knowing.
Even more interesting is the fact that he offered to trade for this knowledge, which means Henry knows how they source it.
He shepherds me back toward the entrance. “How about I take you to see some art? We’re more than just brutes here. I promise.”
Henry whispers the magic words to a plaque beside the stone door, and it slides open. We exit the building. Instead of turning back the way we came, Henry leads me in the opposite direction.
The farther we go down the trail, the wilder and lovelier the scenery becomes.
The trail narrows so that I have to huddle against Henry’s side to keep from getting tangled in the ragged vines and roots of overgrown forest. I squint into the wilderness.
It’s too wild to be a garden. It looks like the forest has taken over this part of the fort.
“It’s the scenic route,” Henry says, noticing my assessment. “It might not look like much, but this is where the biggest part of the battle for the fort took place.”
I note the reverence in his voice and remember what he said about his sister dying. I wonder if this is where it happened.
“Why here?” I ask. The broken wall must be miles from where we’re walking now. I would have thought the violence would have been at the breach.
Henry hesitates as the trail opens up. The view takes my breath away. There are ruins of what must have been a lost outbuilding. Tingling cold washes over me like I’ve stepped through a specter of what once was.
Moss gathers in the claw marks scored into the crumbling stone and ivy strangles the iron gate that hangs from one hinge.
“Escape routes,” Henry says. “We have them here just like you do in the city. In case the Drained get in?”
I nod. In the city, we have similar strategic plans by gate and area that allow us to efficiently defend less territory in case we’re overcome.
“The last stand is at the manor here. The people were shepherded up here to higher ground during the attack. And this is where most of them fell. ”
This is where his sister died.
“I’m sorry.”
His gaze snaps to me, like he thinks I’m teasing, but I mean it. Even if he thinks that my family had something to do with this, even if my family did have something to do with this, I can’t imagine losing a sister. Especially since it was just the two of them.
“Thank you,” he says finally. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Anyway, the reason I brought you here is not to relive our sad history. It’s to tell you that in your wandering, you shouldn’t stray beyond this point into the fort forest.”
I stare beyond the crumbling walls into the forest. “Why? What’s over there?”
“Hunt grounds.”
I glance back at him. “For game?”
A wicked smile steals over his face. “No, lovely. Different kind of hunting. For Kennymyra feasts—like tonight.”
My cheeks heat, thinking of the stories of wild sex rituals to honor the Divine of Pleasure that Aidia and I used to overhear when we snuck out to bars.
I rub my arms like I’m cold, hoping to distract from my embarrassment.
He clears his throat. “Let’s get you inside.”
We follow twists and turns through the trails until finally Havenwood House comes back into view.
Henry takes us in through a different door that dumps us into a long, quiet hallway.
We turn at the end of the hall and my eyes adjust to the dim room.
Shadows dance over three veiled statues in the half-light.
The white marble is stark against the black walls, giving them a spectral glow.
The beautiful intricacy of the carvings is apparent, even through the veils.
“Beautiful,” I whisper.
“The trio of Kennymyras and Stellarias. My great-great-grandfather made them. They are his life’s work.”
A subtle breeze shifts the red veil on the closest Kennymyra statue.
I step forward, expecting Henry to stop me.
When he doesn’t, I move so close that the toes of my boots nearly brush the base of the statue.
She’s life-size, a bit taller than me, and her face is carved with hooded eyes and a subtle smile.
“Why the veils?” I ask.
“It’s a feast tonight.”
“Can I go?” The question is born out of the childhood fascination of a sheltered girl, not the wise strategy of a grown woman who is here to spy and get critical information.
Between an inhale and exhale, Henry is right behind me. I didn’t even hear him move, but now his firm chest is pressed to my back and his breath ghosts over the shell of my ear.
“I’m not sure that would be appropriate for a woman of your delicate sensibilities.”
“I might get some ideas for our wedding night,” I counter.
I don’t know how I expected him to react, but it’s not by nipping at my neck. I jump, swatting him away as he grins.
The man slit someone’s throat earlier for touching me and now he nipped at mine for asking if I could go to a feast during which I assume there will be a lot of public sex.
I have made it my mission to know a man on sight—to understand what motivates him so I can use it—but Henry is so mercurial. The more he shifts and changes before my eyes, the less certain I am that I’ll be able to understand him enough to get what I need from him.
“I know you’re curious. You’ve been let out of your cage and now you want to see everything. But you are not, under any circumstances, to leave your room after dinner this evening,” Henry says firmly.
I arch a brow. “Will you slit my throat if I do?”
He chuckles darkly. “No. I’ll do worse.”
The words have menace, but his lustful smile promises something else entirely.
“There’s worse?”
“Perhaps I’ll drag you down into the dark with me. Abscond with you into some wild corner of the forest and have my way with you.”
The threat heats my blood, but I cross my arms. “Let’s get one thing straight.
This will not be the kind of marriage where you tell me to stay.
I will not be brought to heel, no matter what kind of monster you fancy yourself.
If you make yourself something to fear, I promise I’ll make myself worse. ”
His eyes light up at the challenge. “Is that what this is? A competition to be the bigger monster? Don’t threaten me with a good time. I have done things the likes of which you can’t imagine.”
“Then let’s hope you’re not foolish enough to find out that you’re wrong,” I say. “You were so judgmental about me killing in the city, but you slit the throat of a man you knew by name for trying to hurt me—a wife you don’t even want.”
“You have no idea what I want. If the difference between us is unclear, let me break it down for you. You kill drunk men as a hobby. I kill violent ones out of necessity. Every day, I make choices for the best of my people?—”
“So do I,” I say through gritted teeth.
His brows shoot up, and I realize the mistake. I’ve tipped my hand. Now he knows my murder spree is for more than just amusement. It was safer to let him believe that. Safer to keep him far from the things that he could use to hurt me.
He cocks his head to the side, assessing me with new interest. My mind races, searching for anything I can use to deflect from this topic.
A red splotch on the white stone floor catches my eye. “Is that blood?”
Henry’s head whips around, gaze narrowing on the spot instantly. He reaches a hand back to tuck me behind him.
I take a step back, toward the veiled statues, but my foot slips on something. I flail for purchase, but Henry is too far away and I land on my backside. I glance down at the floor. A bloody streak mars the wood where my boot dragged through the mess.
A low growl to my right makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
I turn my head slowly, and there, in the darkness, two cold blue eyes stare back at me.
I hold still as the beast steps out into the light.
A white wolf prowls from the shadows behind the statues.
As it emerges into the candlelight, I can see it’s not pure white; there’s ashy gray mixed into its coat.
It lets out a low, rumbling growl, lips peeling back over a row of sharp teeth.
“Henry,” I whisper.
The wolf sniffs the blood on my boot and nudges my right foot with its snout. I try not to flinch or make any sudden movements, but my hands tremble .
“What did you drag in here, Ky? You know better than to bring your prizes in the gallery,” Henry says. His voice is soft, torn between scolding and teasing.
The wolf chuffs and jumps excitedly, turning to glance at the dark before returning its attention to me.
“This thing is your pet?” I ask.
Henry frowns. “He’s not my pet.”
“But you named him.”
“Yes. Kyrin. It means ‘little mystery.’”
“And do you feed him?” I ask.
Henry rolls his eyes and gestures to the blood trail. “Sometimes. Often he feeds himself, as you can see. He just lives here and hunts with me.”
“But he’s not a pet. What is he, then? Your colleague?”
Henry blows out an irritated sigh.
I tense as the wolf prowls closer, bloody snout nudging my skirt. Its paws are huge. It must be nearly as big as me, with a lean, muscular body.
“He won’t hurt you,” Henry says.
“You just told me he’s not a pet, which means he is a wild beast and—” My mouth goes dry as the beast steps closer. The wolf’s coppery breath ghosts over my face. He stares at me like he can see into my soul.
I flinch as he flops onto the floor beside me and rolls onto his back, rocking from side to side, like a puppy. A startled laugh rushes out of me, but I’m still too afraid to do more than talk.
“Really, Ky? What a fierce protector! Showing a stranger your belly,” Henry grumbles behind me.
The wolf rolls onto its stomach and looks at me. Its eyes are bright with intelligence as it stares me down and then glances at Henry.
“I suppose I wasn’t so far off with your nickname,” I say.
Henry rolls his eyes. “I should get you back upstairs. The feast festivities will start at sundown and you should be tucked away in your room by then.”
“Are you going?”
He smirks. “Of course. I’m heir of Mountain Haven.”
I glance at the wolf, slowly pushing up to my feet.
“Why? Does that make you jealous? I’m happy to escort you, but I thought we’d ease you into our lifestyle. Unless you’re feeling up for it. You are going to be Mrs. Feral Wolf, after all.”
I glare at him, but he just laughs and presses a hand to my back to lead me to our room. I look over my shoulder at the statues.
“We’ll come back and see the rest soon, but I figured you’d want to clean off the rabbit blood,” Henry says.
I let him lead me upstairs and leave me in our room with the promise that I’ll stay put, knowing I have no intention of missing an opportunity to snoop.