14. Alban
Alban
And by command her, I meant, I mumbled something about her not needing to wake Dorie just yet or over hurry to set out for Dùn Faoiltiarn.
“I should pop over to the castle to put up those solar panels during the short time I actually have daylight to work in,” I somehow ended up telling her instead of my planned speech about her needing to leave. “When I get back in the late afternoon, I’ll take you to the castle.”
She clapped her hands together as if I were saving her, not delaying her. “Yes, that will give me time to redo Dorie’s hair and even wash her dress. Thank you!”
My wolf’s tail wagged so hard I could feel it in my stomach. But my human was still kicking himself as I headed to the castle to complete the solar panel project—today, not tomorrow, so as not to have any volunteers thrust upon me.
Fortunately, finding all the panels turned out to be easy-peasy. The delivery men had stacked them all in the old barn the royals used for staging castle projects.
I got the infernal things strapped on a trolley myself and pulled them out the structure’s double doors without any trouble—or assistance.
Because I didn’t need any help whatsoever.
Take that, Queen Tara! If I were the whistling type, I might have done so as I carted the panels over to the south side of the castle.
But then, the wind turned, and a new smell filled my nose. New … but familiar.
My head filled up with silent curses.
I’d forgotten what other building stood on the castle grounds. Right next to the barn.
The steepled schoolhouse where all Faoiltiarn children received their instruction until they decided if they wanted to take on additional education from the humans, train for a trade job, or join the service as I and my father before me did.
“Alban, is that you?” a voice asked behind me.
I stopped in my tracks. Then made myself turn around.
Gail. Gail Millerwolf, the daughter of the most beautiful woman in Faoiltiarn, stood there in a long tartan dress.
Her hair now swooped to a sharp stop right below her ears instead of hanging down her back as it used to when we were together. She also had a few fine lines around her formerly youthful eyes, but other than that, she looked exactly the same.
She also still smelled of another male—the same one I’d accused her of sleeping with before we parted.
“Hello, Alban,” she said with a careful look. As if she feared I might rocket at just the sight of her. “I heard you’d moved away. My mother must have gotten that wrong.”
Suppose I shouldn’t be surprised she’d heard about that.
I could imagine the whole of Faoiltiarn having a right good gossip about me pulling up stakes after I heard my ex-fiancée was moving back.
Gail’s mother probably couldn’t wait to tell her daughter all about it when she arrived with the city male she’d married shortly after leaving me.
“Only here for the day,” I answered.
“Oh, yes, of course, you came back for the big day.” She nodded her head as if that made complete sense.
By the loch, how many people had the banrigh yabbered on to about her special solar panel project?
Gail nodded toward my trolley. “Maybe you can put one of those on the school too. Remember how dreary and dark it used to get on rainy days?”
Her face softened with the memory. “You’d have to lend me your coat because my desk was so far from the fire …”
Aye, she was right. A system that allowed for electric heaters would solve that auld problem. But there was no way I’d be volunteering my services for this particular job—especially if Dorie wouldn’t be attending the castle school as Leora had said.
“You should talk to the queen about that,” I told her. “Or maybe ask your male.”
“Oh, he’s in IT. Completely useless when it comes to handy projects.
” Gail rolled her eyes. “He was actually between jobs when I saw the notice for a teacher here in Faoiltiarn. That’s pretty much the only reason he agreed to move here with me.
But it’s so expensive in Glasgow these days—especially if you’re hoping to start a family. ”
So, she was married but still unheated. I’d heard of such a thing going on in major cities—but I’d never met a couple with that dynamic.
Gail took my silence as an invitation to continue.
“I didn’t really appreciate Faoiltiarn when I left,” she told me in a confessional tone.
“Glasgow was so exciting at first, but then it turned out to be harsh and uncaring. You never really knew your neighbors, did you? And you had to be so careful because of all the humans. Was it a wonder I never went into heat?”
She shook her head regretfully. “This wee town truly was the ideal place for me to raise kids. Too bad I didn’t see that until now.”
Aye, Faoiltiarn was a grand place to live and start a family. Especially with someone who wasn’t me.
I thought of the she-wolf I’d left back at the house. The incredibly naive she-wolf, who didn’t even realize how bonnie she was. When she did, she’d run away from me, the same as Gail.
“Alban, I’m glad I ran into you,” Gail said, breaking into my thoughts of the she-wolf I couldn’t possess. “I heard … I heard you still don’t have a she-wolf. Is that true?”
I gritted my jaw.
“That’s not because of me, is it?” she asked.
I gripped the trolley, preparing to go.
But then she said, “I’ve moved on, Alban. Why haven’t you?”
“I’m not mate material, remember?" I reminded her before I could think better of it. "Did ye think I’d magically changed after you wrote me that letter?”
“Oh, that letter …” Gail’s face fell. “I’ve been wanting to apologize to you for years about how I left things.”
Her tone took on an awkward note. “I was so young. And defensive. Plus, I was scared you’d turn out like your father after he went mad. But I’ve wanted to apologize to you for years now. I shouldn’t have been so harsh. I didn’t understand—”
Nae. Nae. As we still say in Faoiltiarn, “Gonnae no’ dae that!” Not going to do that.
“Got a project to get on,” I said. Then, I strode away with the trolley before she could finish.
The last thing I wanted to do with my Saturday morning was to hear Gail explain again—this time gently—why I wasn’t good enough for any female. That letter of hers had already been swirling around in my head enough as of late.
Anyroad, I strapped three panels to my back and climbed up the side of the Dùn Faoiltiarn’s south-facing wall.
The castle roof was the highest point in Faoiltiarn, so I could easily see all the kingdom village along with New St. Ailbe. And wouldn’t you know it, those Brides were at that bat-and-ball game again.
Either they were nuts about the game, or they liked all the attention they got from the Faoiltiarn males when they played it.
A whole gang of lads had gathered at the edge of the diamond.
As if this North American game fielded by females in bulky dresses was as good a time for them as watching King Magnus play rugby on the town bar’s telly.
There was a Black woman on third base who stood taller and wider than all the other Brides playing the game.
However, Naomi, the queen’s younger sister, was conspicuously missing from the gameplay, I noticed.
The Prickly One, I’d heard her called by a few of the males when I’d been standing in that grocery line.
The rumor was she had no interest in matching with a Faoiltiarn male and had basically only come to visit with her sister.
Well, Leora wasn’t prickly like Naomi, I noted as I worked to install the panels.
And she also wasn’t cynical and glamorous like Queen Tara.
She went out of her way to be polite to me, despite my obvious social flaws.
She’d somehow held on to her sweet innocence, and there’d been nothing but gratitude and trust in her eyes when she looked up at me in the kitchen this morning.
Nae, Leora was nothing like her two sisters. She was her own unique person, and against the odds, she’d raised a bonnie daughter. I couldn’t think of too many other toothless she-wolves who would have come at me like that with a fire poker on a full moon night.
A warm pride stole over me as I returned my focus to the solar panels and got to work.
Below me, the baseball game broke up, and less than an hour later, the church bells rang out a wedding march. Then, what looked to be the entire town flooded into our old church dressed in their Sunday best.
One of the Faoiltiarn males must have already proposed then. Quick work.
I didn’t pay much attention to the nonsense going on below, though.
Just kept working, making double sure every panel was properly installed and positioned to catch the sun.
And aye, all my extra checks extended the number of hours it was taking me to get the job done, pushing back the time when I would have to escort Leora and Dorie to the castle.
But my need to adhere to exceptional quality standards wasn’t about that, I assured myself.
I just wanted to make sure that everything was done right so that I could return to my cottage tomorrow as pla—
The sound of bagpipers playing a grand march cut off all my rationalizations.
Because it wasn’t just any normal grand march ringing out for the whole town to hear—it was the one with the Faoiltiarn salute underlaid.
I froze in the middle of double-tightening the final panel’s last leg.
I’d heard that version of a grand march performed only one other time in my entire life—when my father’s older brother brought back an Italian she-wolf from university and married her in the traditional Faoiltiarn way—with the special version of the grand march—the one only royals used at their weddings.
In a flash, everything fell into place. Tara talking about “the big day” this morning while dressed in a traditional tartan over a poofy white dress. Gail’s easy acceptance of me being in town for only one day. Everyone showing up for a wedding at the church.
Nae, Queen Tara hadn’t told me to take a shower for the biggest day of her life because she was a glamorous city girl hell-bent on modernizing Faoiltiarn. She’d told me that because today was her official wedding to Magnus—and somehow, I’d missed it.
Even worse. My blood froze when I realized …
I’d also made Leora miss her younger sister’s wedding altogether.
Cursing myself, I threw my tool belt aside and scrambled down the castle wall.