“You think it’s real?”
“Aye, we do. Of course, the story is steeped in myth—but there is evidence throughout history of a relic that has passed between hands. A type of rock, we think.” He swallows. “And there is evidence it holds the power for us to shift whenever we choose, to be free.”
His longing for freedom stirs something inside me as I finally understand.
“You think Sebastian has it. That’s why you planned the siege at his castle. That’s why you took me. That’s what you want to trade me for.”
“Aye,” he says, his voice dark as shadow and laced with intent. “We’re searching for the Cridhe na Ghealach—the Heart of the Moon. Because with it, we’ll have the power to shift when we want. With it, we’ll have the power to win this war.”
Chapter Nine
We’ll have the power to win this war.
We ride onward.
The night is quiet except for the sound of the horse’s hooves and the whisper of the wind in the trees. It emphasizes how alone we are out here. How alone I am—with a man who is plotting against my father.
His chest rises and falls steadily against my back.
“What makes you so sure Sebastian has what you’re looking for?” I ask.
I sense him deciding whether or not to answer. “I have my sources.”
“You have spies in Sebastian’s castle, you mean.” I recall his certainty that he was going to escape when I tended to Ryan’s wounds. “They let you out of the kennels, I presume?”
“Aye. And they confirm what . . . what someone from the Lowfell Clan has been telling us.” His tone darkens and I get the impression that whoever this someone is, the alpha doesn’t care too much for them.
“But you didn’t find it.”
“It wasn’t where we thought it would be.”
I think of the carnage we left behind at Sebastian’s castle; the dead guards in the entrance hall, the flames in the courtyard, the shouting and the cries of death. “Your siege was pointless, then.”
His arm tightens around my waist. “I wouldn’t say that.”
My heart thuds faster as I realize I may be out of my depth.
I have no doubt Sebastian will wage war to get me back. I am his property, and I have been stolen from him. He will not let that go unanswered. But he does not care whether I live or die. Not really.
And the alpha is naïve if he thinks Sebastian will trade this powerful relic for me.
I am worth nothing.
I wonder what will happen to me when the Wolves finally figure that out.
***
We stop in a clearing by the bank of the loch, and the alpha dismounts.
It’s so dark all I can make out is his shadowy form. The air is thick with the scent of pine and grass, and water moves and ripples somewhere behind him.
“We’re resting here until morning. Come,” he says.
I fold my arms. “You do realize both Sebastian and my father will send their armies north to find me? They’ll ride day and night to capture my kidnapper. It won’t end well for you if they do.”
It won’t end well for me, either.
“People really don’t talk to me that way.”
“Yes, you said.”
“They call this place Glen Marb—the Valley of Death,” says the alpha. “It was a battleground, centuries go. They say the souls of the Wolves who died here haunt the valley, seeking vengeance. If you listen carefully, you can hear them howling.”
My insides tighten when I hear hollow wails in the distance. I snap my head toward him, alarmed.
He grins. “Just the wind. A silly superstition, but Sebastian believes it. He won’t send his men here. We’re safe until morning. Come.”
This time, when he puts his hands around my waist and lowers me to the ground, I don’t fight him.
I am a princess, and he stole me from my bed and brought me here. He should be serving me. That’s what I tell myself, anyway. I am fed up of feeling weak.
If we were in the palace, and I was dressed up in one of my favorite dresses at one of the balls, things would be quite different, I’m sure.
I wince when my feet touch the sodden earth. The alpha’s big hands tighten around my hips, the heat seeping through my nightdress. My cheeks flush. Men are not supposed to stand this close to me. Especially big alpha warrior men who are plotting against my father.
“Ghealach,” he curses under his breath. “Your feet.”
Above, the clouds shift, illuminating the valley and the moonlit loch. My gaze is fixed on the alpha. He’s looking at my bare feet and a flicker of something. . . shame, perhaps. . . crosses his face.
“You’re hurt.” He swallows, shaking his head. “Forgive me, Princess. I forget sometimes, how fragile humans are.”
“Fragile?” I slap his wrists and he finally releases me. “We may not all be big oafs like you, but that doesn’t make us fragile.”
One of my soles hurts from running barefoot out of the Borderlands castle. I must have cut it on a stone or twig when we escaped. I want to take a look, but not with the alpha looming over me.
“Let me see.” He steps forward.
“I’ll be fine, it’s just a cut.”
His nostrils flare. “You’re not fine. I can smell blood.”
“Firstly, that’s horrifying,” I tell him, folding my arms. “And secondly, if it bothers you so much, then next time you come crashing into a lady’s bedchambers, let her get dressed before you kidnap her.”
His face falls. “Aye. I should’ve done that. I’m sorry. . . I truly am.” The sight of a big bloodthirsty warrior sheepishly apologizing causes a strange feeling of power to surge through me. Until he steps forward. “Now, if you’ll just let me take a look—”
“No.”
“Let me see!”
“If you come any closer, I will. . . I will take my leave of you!”
He stills and I think I’ve won, but the corner of his lip twitches. Slowly, he raises his hands.
“Okay.” His tone is placating, at odds with his large physique. “Okay. At least sit down. I’ll water the horse, light us a fire. Okay?”
He leads the horse down to the loch.
I shiver, and pull my furs closer. It is never this cold in the King’s City.
There’s a copse of fir trees nearby, so while he’s fussing with the horse, I select some dry twigs and branches, and a flint rock. By the time he returns with a flask, I’m sitting and warming my hands by a small fire. The crackle of flames adds to the sound of the wind and the water.
He looks at me curiously.
“I didn’t think you’d know how to do that,” he says.
I tuck my knees beneath my chin, basking in the heat that washes over my face. “Do you know a lot about princesses, wolf?”
“It seems not.” He sits down beside me, and nods at the flames. “Did your father teach you?”
He sounds skeptical, and he’s right to be. The only thing my father taught me was how to act like a lady so that he could parade me around in front of suitors.
“My mother.” I chew my bottom lip. I’m unused to people asking me questions about myself, and it feels strange. “She was from the Snowlands, originally.”
“Ah, well, I hear it’s pretty cold over there.”