Chapter Three #2
Kill them so that innocent little wolflets like this maid wouldn’t have to put their hope in a dangerous nobody like me.
I could taste that blood within the hour. I only had to start running.
Don’t be stupid. The Princess’ words echoed in my mind, reaching both me and my wolf, tamping down the instinct and poisoning it with reason and clarity.
If I went to them now, wolf-bound, with all the court there, I’d die.
If I stayed, they would.
Not today. But soon.
And it didn’t cost me much, in the end, to drink the damn vial and simply follow Greta out.
WE DIDN’T TAKE THE great corridors, where guards might still be posted.
Instead, Greta led me through back doors and servants’ passages, narrow stairwells that stank of damp stone and disuse.
All ways meant to keep those who labored unseen.
We hurried whenever we crossed a gaunt-faced male or two.
Hurried faster when a guard appeared. But the potion worked.
No one sniffed me out. And so, we carried on until we reached the far corner of the castle, where a tower loomed high over village and forest alike.
“These have been the Feuermeister’s chambers since the castle was built,” Greta explained, perhaps realizing I knew close to nothing of this place.
“Adelmar, the current Feuermeister, lives, teaches, and studies here, as his predecessors did. He is loyal to my lady, and his fire is strong.” She opened the heavy wooden door, revealing an old stairwell spiraling up.
“But not as great as Lady Elske’s,” the maid added proudly.
We climbed. Past doors. Past scents of old magic. Higher and higher until she knocked on the single door at the very top.
I didn’t know what to expect from the Feuermeister.
Not this.
Bushy grey eyebrows nearly swallowed a pair of sharp, clever brown eyes.
His beard reached his waist, singed in more than one place.
One of the highest, most respected figures in the pack wore only a simple blue tunic, not the silk and velvet gilded nonsense favored by the nobles.
His eyes bored into mine for a long moment.
Then he leaned in. And sniffed me. Deep and long.
A satisfied nod followed. “That was a good potion. Covers your scent completely.”
He ushered us into a clean but stark antechamber and shut the door. Greta bowed, and the old male smiled at her. “Thank you, Greta. Was he a good stray?”
Never in my life had I been spoken of like that, like an unruly pup who might or might not deserve a swat.
The maid nodded. “Yes, he was.”
“Perfect. Off you go, darling.”
Greta bowed again, gave me a tense, fleeting smile, and left.
I was alone with him.
“I’m Adelmar. Well, Feuermeister Adelmar, but you can drop the formalities. Elske said your name is Dierk. Come.”
He led me into a small living room, cozy but crowded–books, crystals, herbs hanging to dry next to a contraption that looked halfway between a weapon and a toy.
Then into another chamber that was clearly the most used, a den bursting with more books, potions in the making, and tools I couldn’t name.
He started rummaging through a drawer. “We need to deal with those shackles. Gerhard won’t be able to come here for a while longer, and we can’t keep you like that. Ah–there they are.” He pulled out a heavy iron pick, a tool meant to break any clasp or chain. “Sit,” he ordered.
I remained standing.
His enormous brows furrowed. “Sit,” he repeated, clipped.
Like I was a dog. My wolf liked that even less than I did.
“Oh, for the Mother’s sake, you stubborn pup,” he exclaimed, exasperation clear in his voice. “Stop growling and let me take care of them. Unless you’d rather wear them as jewelry?”
“I could snap your scrawny neck even with them on,” I snarled.
“Please,” he scoffed, utterly unimpressed. “You wouldn’t get close before I flattened you. A shame, really, that brute strength makes an Alpha more than fire and brains.” The last mutter was to himself, and he didn’t even flinch at my growl. “Sit down.”
I didn’t.
With a flick of his fingers, the air above me thickened with heat. It pressed down like invisible stone until it crashed me into the chair.
Adelmar strolled closer, utterly unbothered, and reached for my wrists. With a few twists of the tool, the wolfsbane shackles snapped free.
And the wolf under my skin was finally uncaged.
We surged in teeth, claws, and fur.
Relief. Strong. Sweet. Air after drowning. Blood thawed, rushing hot.
Not apart anymore.
We shook with it. Shuddered, fierce and alive.
The old male watched with serious eyes. But kind. He smelled of fire. Burned herbs and old magic.
A different scent drifted. Faint. Forest. Flowers.
Her.
She’d been here.
We wanted to follow it, to tear down every wall until we reached her.
But the old male did something no one had. Not since our mother.
His hand stretched toward us.
We snarled. Louder, the closer he came. He did not stop. His palm sat heavy on our head. His fingers scratched behind an ear.
Comfort.
We barely recalled the feeling.
We stilled, ears forward. We weren’t growling anymore.
But, no.
The forest. The wind. We needed them.
And we were locked in here. Between walls and keys. Caught.
“I can’t let you run,” he said, his voice gentle. “For now, this is all I can allow. Soon, though.”
Never trust.
But she’d promised.
We could trust her. Had to.
We paced away from him.
Scents were all around. The tang of the males who dragged me here. Ink, smoke, herbs, wood.
The man left. Returned with food. Stew. Bread. Ale. More food than we often had in weeks. He set down the bowl.
“Shift back. Elske won’t return for some time. Eat. Then bathe.”
We paced around. Hungry.
“I won’t let you eat like a wolf,” the old male said. “Shift and eat. I promise, Elske will take you to the forest soon.”
Food, freedom, and the Princess. It was for those promises that I shifted back.
I sat and took the first spoonful of stew. Rich, hot, it settled deep into the hollows of me, warmth spreading where doubt still lived. Too easy. Too kind. But I swallowed another spoonful anyway. “Where is she?” I asked in a growl as I shoveled meat in my mouth.
“Come.”
He led me into another room, tidier than the rest. A teaching hall, possibly, lined with more books and a few benches. He stopped at a window. “Look.”
The courtyard stretched below, dressed like a feast. Bright cloth and banners strung across stone; garlands dripped from posts.
All of it wrapped around a stage built for pain.
A raised platform stood at its center. Where wolves bled.
Ten of them. Still bound upright by the wrists, their bloodied bodies were wrecked by flogging, their heads low.
In front of it, a wide carpet rolled out like a theater floor, and cushioned chairs set in neat rows.
In the first one, the Alpha and his son. Nobles in silk. Then the two males who were with Elske. Gerhard and Matthis, I remembered. Their jaws were clenched, their hands fisted on their knees.
And at the far end, her.
She sat in the last chair, her back ramrod straight, her eyes fixed on the ten males. Rage and unshed tears. I didn’t need to be closer to feel it all. It thrummed through me, fierce and nerve-deep, my wolf drinking it in as if it were our own.
“She will go to them,” Adelmar said, his voice heavy and quiet.
“While her father and brother are distracted with feasting and gloating, she’ll help tend their wounds.
She’ll go to their families, make sure they have food, that they're safe, as much as safety exists here. Sometimes Gerhard will go with her. Sometimes Matthis will. Most of the time, she’ll go alone. ”
“Why?”
“Because she loves this pack. And because justice drives her.” He turned to me. “What drives you, Dierk?”
“Blood.”
He nodded. “Then blood is what you’ll have.”
He sighed and went back to the table. I followed, resuming my meal.
“You’re impressive as a male,” he said, filling a cup with tea and sitting in front of me. “But as a wolf, you’re majestic.”
My wolf went still. He observed Adelmar in the way he only did when something bigger moved beneath the surface. I only nodded. “Thank you.”
“And you both stink clear through until next Samhain. Finish your food, Dierk the Stray. Then I’ll call for a bath and clothes that haven’t mopped dungeon floors. By then, Elske should be done.”
ELSKE
I WASN’T EXHAUSTED, or not in a physical way. But I was drained. My heart bled for the males who’d paid such a steep price for defiance–either levies they couldn’t meet, or for whispering against the Alpha or his son. My own blood.
So they brought them out like beasts for sport.
Ten males hauled onto the platform, shirts ripped, flesh marked with old cords or new weals.
The flogger walked slowly, the whip at his whip coiled like a hungry snake.
The lash was thick leather braided with metal wire, so each strike shredded deeper. Crueler.
And then it began.
Every crack threw up a spray of red that startled the pretty morning light.
The males tried to curl away but were held upright with ropes and shackled in wolfsbane to stop their wolves.
Some leaned on the bodies of others, their fists white where they gripped the ropes to stop themselves from collapsing.
The air tasted like iron and sweat and the ugly tang of fear.
Children pressed at railings farther back, hands over their mouths. Wives knelt on the flagstones, cheeks wet. Not even a prayer was left on their lips.