Alban #2
Perhaps, I shouldn’t have been so averse to the idea of having a mobile phone.
My main job had asked after me getting a number they could reach me at several times.
And Magnus forced one of those satellite ones on me after he named me the Kingdom Defender.
But after he returned to Faoiltiarn for good, I’d tossed it into one of my office desk's drawers.
Then I'd pretty much forgotten it existed.
But I regretted leaving the phone behind as I reluctantly returned to the cottage for supper. I couldn’t ring the castle, but this situation had become untenable.
And unfortunately, simply taking Queen Elizabeth down the mountain wasn’t an option either, thanks to my truly crazed wolf.
I’d been forced to walk in wide circles because the beast wouldn’t allow me to let the cottage out of my sight.
It had obviously imprinted on the female without my agreement. There was no way I’d be able to travel even a kilometer from her in this state. Much less the many kilometers it would take to get back to the kingdom village to tell them the queen's sister was currently dozing in my bed.
I wanted to be alone. But to achieve that goal, I'd need one or both of our sovereigns to come here. That was the only way to safely remove the banrigh's dangerous sister from my chosen home.
Hence, my regret about not having that phone as I trudged up to the cottage.
“Oh, my goodness, where were you, Alban?”
To my surprise, Dorie came flying out of the house before I reached the porch.
But this time, instead of trying to run me through with a fire poker, she threw her arms around my waist and sobbed into my stomach.
A cold dread seized me. “What’s wrong? Is your mother al—”
“She’s fine,” Dorie answered, her voice watery with tears.
“But you weren’t here when I got back from visiting with Queen Elizabeth!
And I thought you left us alone as a reprimand for feeding her two carrots instead of one.
I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I know that was bad. Please don’t leave me alone again.”
Reprimand? Why would she assume I’d punish her?
I took the girl by her shoulders and crouched down to address her.
“Dorie, nae, nae. I only went for a walk. That’s all. Not even that far. I was within shouting distance this entire time.”
She sniffed. “Really? I’m not in trouble? You don’t hate me?”
Why would I hate her for feeding a horse too many carrots? Questions swirled in my head. But I didn’t want to upset the little girl any more than I already had.
“No, I don’t hate you. Of course, I don’t hate you.” I grumbled. But then, I sniffed the air and picked up a faint scent. “Not unless you ate all the stew while I was gone.”
Dorie screwed up her face defensively. But then admitted. “Just a teeny, tiny bowl. I was hungry!”
“Traitor!” I declared. I rolled the “r” dramatic-like as I used to when Magnus and I played Scots and Irish with our wooden swords as boys.
Dorie said, “Sorry!” again. But this time with a giggle. She was no longer upset.
A good thing, I decided as we walked in together. And I welcomed the return of the talkative and animated girl I let out of the small, reinforced stable she’d shared with Queen Elizabeth all night.
Over dinner at the small table, she talked my ear off about the life she’d left behind in Canada.
Her favorite and least favorite chore—cleaning her room.
Her former best friend—Ridiculous Ruthie—who'd turned on her when she became toothless.
How much she was looking forward to Christmas. Apparently, it was celebrated twice where she came from. Once on the twenty-fifth and then the next day too. "Maem always makes an extra big breakfast with all my favorite foods."
I grunted and nodded along. Aye, she talked too much. But I was happy to have her as a buffer between me and the dangerous she-wolf sleeping in my bed.
I couldn't help but notice, though, that she never brought up the male wolf I could smell on her—but not on her mother.
I didn't ask, though. I knew better than most that people usually had a good reason for not talking about things. Had a whole list of subjects that never crossed my mouth myself.
“Thank you,” she said after eating another bowl of stew with me. “I’ve never had food made by a male before. Did your mother teach you how to cook because you didn’t have a helpmate?”
I frowned. “Just the opposite, actually. I taught myself to cook. After I returned here from serving in the military. My ma had left my da by that point, so it was time to learn to take care of myself.”
She crooked her head to the side, her expression troubled and confused.
Ah, shite. I realized my mistake in an instant. She'd grown up ultra-sheltered from what I could tell. I supposed the concept of a mother leaving her family behind wasn't a thing she had ever heard of before.
But instead of inquiring about my mother, she asked, “Can you teach me how to do that?”
“How to do what?”
“How to take care of myself?” she answered. "Most Wolfennite kids get to help their parents all the time. But Maem does everything for me because she's a helpmate and I’m toothless. I want to learn how to cook and take care of the animals and all the things regular kids in Faoiltiarn do."
I frowned. But then I considered it.
Nae, I wasn’t much for company. But teaching Dorie a few things would be a better distraction than walking in circles around the cottage.
“Sure, I could do that,” I decided out loud. But then a counterdemand slipped out without any warning. “First, though, I’m going to need you to answer a question for me.”
Dorie nodded eagerly. Probably because she didn’t know the question yet.
“Who’s Joshua?”