Blood for Wolves (28 page)

“And my hart?”

The Sentry looked long and hard at
Alex. Alex stared back. Finally the Sentry gave a flick of his wrist. “He can
come too if he is yours.”

We crossed a courtyard of stone
paths and flower gardens. I eyed them. For spring to be in full swing, the
flowers and plant life drooped, untended and wilting, their colors muted by the
cloudy day. Unease wound its way through me. The Sentries followed behind us. I
imagined Alex itching to kick one of them. Something was seriously wrong in
this place. Was it because Marianne wasn’t here when she needed to be? The key
was hard and cold against my ankle. I didn’t intend to tell them about her. Not
until absolutely necessary. I wanted to find out what the hell was going on
first.

I followed the lead Sentry through
a door to the inside of the castle. Gray stone surrounded us on all sides of
the arched hallway. Alex ducked his head to keep from scraping his antlers on
the ceiling. Eventually, after a few twists and turns, we came to an open room
with a vaulted ceiling. It made me think of a cathedral, with stained glass
windows on the far wall and immaculate stonework. I peeked around the lead
Sentry’s shoulder. An elaborate throne sat upon a platform, several steps leading
up to it. But it was empty. A man with graying hair sat in a chair that only
half-echoed the throne, the seat placed a few steps down from the top of the
platform. The Steward Dunstan Hood. The setup threw me off a bit. Pretty
elaborate for someone ruling over a chunk of forest with a wolf problem.

“Sentry Martock with a report,
sir,” the lead Sentry said with a short bow.

Dunstan gestured for Martock to
come forward. “Come in, come in. I hear you’ve brought us some visitors.”

“Yes, sir.”

Martock moved into the room, Alex
and I following. Dunstan Hood dressed similarly to his men; all black, but with
no hat. He could have been in his late forties, early fifties. His face was
etched with a few lines, and he hunched in a way that made him look more tired
than he should have been for a guy who sat on a throne and did nothing for his
people and their werewolf problem.

Stop it,
I reprimanded
myself.
He might not know.
Though I still considered that to be odd. Wasn’t
it his job to know?

“This is Caroline McKenna,” Martock
introduced me. He glanced at Alex and then decided not to try introducing a
fully grown buck to his lord. “She claims to have important information about
werewolves in the land and a prophecy that concerns them.”

I gave him a sharp look for a split
second. That was
not
what I had said.

“Ah,” Dunstan said, sounding as if
this were old news. His gaze focused on me, sharp and strong like a hawk’s. Impressive.

“Werewolves are exiled young lady.”

I bristled at being looked at as
though I were nothing but an ignorant five-year old. “I beg your pardon, sir,
but they are not.”

An amused smile played over his
face. “Is that so?”

“They are back, and they intend to
overrun this kingdom.”

Behind me, the Sentries shifted
restlessly. Dunstan still didn’t look impressed.

“And how do you know this?”

“Because I’ve
seen
them,” I
exploded. Werewolves were running amok and killing cattle and people and this
guy just looked at me like I was the newest entertainment. “I’ve fought with
them. There’s a powerful sorceress controlling them. She tried to put me into a
holding spell and succeeded with my brother here.”

I’d slipped, but decided to use it
to my advantage. They had to see how dangerous the woman was.

“You mean,” Martock said, pointing
at Alex, “that is a person?”

“Yes,” I snapped. “And I can’t
change him back, so I would appreciate it if you brought out some of your
magicians to help me.”

“We can’t do that,” Dunstan
interrupted.

“Why not?”

“Because we have no magicians
here.”

Alex huffed and I went silent. Was that
normal? Why would a king—or Steward—not keep any magic users around? I cursed
to myself, wishing I knew. Then I realized there weren’t any servants nearby
either. We were the only people in the throne room. For a big castle, it
certainly was empty. Scary empty. Not normal empty.

“Why don’t you tell us about this
prophecy?” Dunstan said, standing. He clasped his hands behind his back.

“It concerns a young girl. She is
to be the one that breaks the curse on all wolves.”

He said nothing.

“You were waiting for her, weren’t
you?” I pressed. “Marianne. She was coming to this place, wasn’t she?”

A look of recognition flashed
across his face. “You know where she is?”

Oh ho, there we are
. “Of
course I do.” I decided to give them a bit more to chew on. “I’m her Guardian.”

That elicited a few whispers from
the Sentries. I glanced at Martock, but his face remained impassive. The
Steward, however, stepped forward more eagerly.

“Where is she?”

“Safe.”

“Where?”

“
Safe
.”

As if I would tell them. He and the
entire castle gave me the creeps. Just like the red in Wolf’s eyes, something
in this place was
wrong
. Dunstan was way too interested in knowing where
Marianne was, and not in a good way. He looked…greedy.

“You have to do something about the
werewolves,” I said, trying to shift the conversation back to action.

“Yes, yes, of course. But for now,
you look as though you could use a nice room and a bath.”

I blinked. Not what I expected. Wasn’t
this guy even concerned? Was he senile? “But the werewolves—”

“Yes, my dear, I know. We’ll talk
about this more later. I’ll have a full dinner prepared. We can discuss it
then. For now, allow Martock to show you to a room where you can clean up and
pick out something more suitable to wear.”

With that, he turned and went back
to his chair. I stared after him, dumbstruck.

“Are you serious?”

“Miss,” he said, his voice loud and
stern. I jumped in surprise. “This matter is well under my scrutiny. We will
discuss it further in the future.”

Whether by order of the Steward or
to keep me from saying anything else, Martock took hold of my arm and
half-dragged me off toward another hallway. Alex grunted and nipped at his
hand. Martock swore and released me, but made sure I followed after him.

“This whole place is screwed up,” I
muttered, keeping pace with Martock. I glanced at him. “Is he always like
that?”

“The Steward is a very decisive
man,” he said.

“Yeah, well, there is something
serious going on in your lands, and he wants to wait for dinner to assess it?”

“We’ve been aware of the werewolves’
reemergence for some time.” He kept his voice low. Why?

“And you’ve done nothing?”

Martock said nothing, but his face
was hard, as though he were thinking of something he’d rather not have on his
mind.

“What about Marianne?” I prodded.

He glanced at me. “Do you really
know where she is?”

“Yes.”

“Then why won’t you tell us?”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “And
trust any of you? Look, ever since I stepped foot in these lands, I’ve almost
been stabbed, roasted by giants, killed by slave traders, eaten by harpies,
burned at the stake, attacked by werewolves, and locked away in some soul
trapping spell,”
and died from a broken heart
, I added silently, “and
you expect me to trust him or you when you take away my weapons and he wants to
chat about a threat to his kingdom over pot roast? I don’t think so.”

He narrowed his eyes, trying to
assess me. “And where are you from?”

“Not from here,” I said, and then
clamped my mouth shut.

We were silent the rest of the way,
our footsteps faintly echoing in the stone halls, Alex’s hooves clacking much
louder. Martock opened a door and gestured I should go inside.

A lavish bedroom awaited me, the
four-poster bed draped in sheets that looked like a mix of satin and silk with
plump pillows at the head. A table and a clothes chest glossed to a fine sheen
were tucked into corners, sundry items sitting atop them awaiting use. A large
three-pane mirror sat beside the clothes chest. I feared what I might see when
I looked in it. The room was nice and warm thanks to the fire. It crackled away
in its hearth, a bit of merriment amidst this gloomy palace as the light caused
the metallic accents on the furniture to gleam. A glass window was set in the
opposite wall, etched with intricate designs as though Jack Frost had made a
specific stop to decorate it. Another doorway was open at the far wall, but it
was too dark for me to see where it led.

“I’ll send some men up with warm
water for you,” Martock said. He lingered at the door. “Is she really safe?”

I took a second to mull over my
response before saying, “She is. I’ve killed to keep her that way.”

Not exactly true, but not entirely
false either. I figured I might as well go all the way and at least look badass
to these guys.

Martock nodded, satisfied, and
closed the door behind him. I waited a few minutes before heaving a sigh and
leaning against Alex’s side. He touched his nose to my temple, leaving a small
damp spot. I patted his face before shuffling over to the dresser and plucking
a hairbrush from its surface. Then I began the long, arduous task of brushing
the tangles out of my hair.

I kept a wary eye on the men when
they brought up the buckets of hot water. The bathtub sat in the room I hadn’t
been able to see before. I found it interesting that bathrooms were their own
separate spots in this castle considering what little I knew of medieval-style
fortresses. By the time they showed up, I’d managed to get my hair straight
again, though not without several painful yanks and a lot of patience. Alex was
a gentleman while I undressed, looking out the window the entire time. I
pondered what to do about Marianne at my ankle. I held a towel to my front.

“Hey, come here.”

Alex glanced back. I beckoned to
him.

“Keep an eye on this while I wash.”
I took the key from my ankle and secured it around Alex’s neck. On my way to
the bath, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Grungy, scarred by
harpies and wolves and the glass from the cottage window. I ducked away from
the image.

I soaked for a long time,
formulating ideas, throwing others out, making plans and revising them. How to
attack. Where to find weaponry if I needed it. How to escape. Where the hell
the magic I felt was coming from. It seemed to be everywhere. Pervading the
stones somehow. It felt…protective. But not in a good way. I tried to figure
out how to get the Steward to take the Mistress’s threat seriously. Wondered
what Martock’s deal was.

The warm water soothed my aching
muscles, thawed my chilled skin, seemed to ooze into my very bones and melt the
marrow in them. Finally I grabbed some soap off an ornately fashioned metal
side table and scrubbed furiously at my hair and skin, sloughing off the sweat,
blood, and dirt I’d accumulated since my dip in the lake. I almost laughed when
the thought popped into my head; how long would it be before I was covered in
blood and grime again? At length the tub became a pool of dirty water and I
stood, rinsed myself with one last bucket of steamy water, and stepped out.

Once I dried off, I spied the extra
bucket of water and after a few more moments, emptied Wolf’s coat pockets and
gave the garment a thorough scrubbing. When it was clean enough to my liking, I
wrung it out and hung it near the fire to dry. I hoped when I came back from
dinner, it would no longer smell like him.

I dried my hair by the fire,
brushing it thoroughly again, before rifling through the dresser drawers. I
scoffed at all the dresses. Did women not wear pants at all here? I glanced at
the mirror again and considered my options. I settled on a forest green dress
that shimmered gold in the light. The dress was simple, sleek, with thin
shoulder straps and made of a silky material without any embellishments. Though
I wasn’t too fond of my scars, wearing a dress that presented them would show
others that I’d been in my share of fights. In my search for undergarments, I
found a golden belt. I set it aside.

Once I dressed, my feet in
knee-high boots of soft gray leather, I called to Alex again. He got up from
his spot where he’d been laying at the window. I carried the golden belt over
to him.

“Trade you.” I took the key from
him and tied it around my leg, letting it slide into the boot and back into
place over my ankle. I fastened the belt around Alex’s neck.

“I remember this from a story,” I
told him. “The sister put a gold collar around her deer so she’d know it was
him and no one would hunt him. Something like that. Just in case you have to go
outside, they’ll know not to hurt you. You never know.” I patted his neck. “All
right. You ready to do this?”

He nodded his big antlered head.

“Then let’s go.”

I opened my door and shouted in
surprise. Martock stood there, his hand up to knock.

“My apologies,” he said.

“It’s okay,” I said. Then I pointed
at him. “I could use some pants in here, by the way. There’s nothing but
dresses, and I don’t like it.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ll
see if I can find something to suit you.”

“Good.”

He gazed at me for a minute, his
eyes traveling up and down my body, gauging me in some way. His focus settled
on the scars on my arm and shoulder for a moment before he finally turned and
strode through the halls.

Alex and I followed him back to the
throne room. We emerged into the vacant throne room, out of the darkened halls
and back into the light. I thought I heard a faint gasp behind me and paused,
looking over my shoulder. But I heard nothing else and Alex hadn’t reacted to
anything. I started forward again, keeping my senses open to everything. I
hadn’t noticed before, but the throne room and the dining hall were actually
together in one huge chamber. One long table was positioned near a massive
fireplace open on four sides with the flue rising in the center. Heat radiated
out into the room. But my gaze fixated on the food on the table. The scent of
roasted meat, buttered vegetables, and freshly baked bread made my mouth water.
A feast set in silver dishes awaited us, sliced fruits glistening with juices,
creamy orange soup with steam floating lazily toward the ceiling, and bronze
mugs with etched designs filled to the brim with foamy drinks. My stomach
growled in anticipation. God, how long had it been since I’d eaten a real meal?
I resisted the urge to leap into my chair and shove handfuls of food into my
mouth.