The Wolf Lord

by Ann Aguirre

  “Right.”

  There was one important task left, anyway—something she’d sworn before she knew who the traitor was. Without hesitation, Thalia snatched up Tirael’s head by the streaming hair and impaled it on a spike jutting from the front ramparts, a message to the enemies who were surely watching.

  You’re next.

  Raff had rarely wanted a hot shower so badly, but he had to see to his fallen first. None of Korin’s people had been lost in the taking of Daruvar, but Sky had just informed him of Janek’s death. His knees nearly buckled when she led him to the old wolf’s corpse, carelessly stashed in a storage room like Janek was a sack of rice.

  “He wouldn’t kneel,” Sky whispered from somewhere behind him. “I did. I’m sorry.”

  Tears thickened her voice, and he turned, wrapping an arm about the little wolf as she broke down. He whispered words that were meant to comfort but not quell. She shouldn’t feel guilty about surviving, but he understood why she did.

  “You did nothing wrong, pup.”

  “They were going to ask for ransom from Korin, more drones and mines,” she went on. “I didn’t expect her to pay, not for someone like me, but…I didn’t want to die. I’m sorry.”

  “Stop. I only wish Janek had bent with you. There’s no shame in bowing your head, if it meant your life, and I know damn well that your heart never strayed from Pine Ridge.”

  From her fresh injuries, it looked as if Sky had been tortured repeatedly. Animari healed so fast that the last session couldn’t have been long ago, as she still carried stripes on her back and fresh bruises on her face. What the hell was that awful bitch trying to learn? Sky had no access to the inner workings of Pine Ridge security. If Tirael had known that and still hurt the little one, then the quick end she got with Thalia’s sword was too fucking good for her. Janek had known more, and maybe that was why he’d chosen to die as he did, no risk of betraying the pack.

  He knelt and closed Janek’s eyes. The old wolf had been left to stare at the cold ceiling in death, and that gnawed at him. Ignoring the bullet in his back, he swung Janek up in his arms and carried him out of the dark. Korin was waiting for him in the courtyard, their vehicles newly parked beside the mound of Eldritch. These had to be the traitors who would be buried without ceremony, no burning to ease their passage to the next world, no songs or candles to guide the way.

  “The cavalry came just in time,” he said to his second.

  Korin might have smiled, except her gaze locked on Janek. “Not soon enough for some. Seems like you’ve seen some shit, packmaster.”

  “Don’t call me that. We run this joint fifty-fifty.”

  “So you keep telling me. Give Janek to me. I have to get back to Pine Ridge and kick some Golgoth ass.”

  Raff froze. “There’s been an incursion?”

  “Nothing serious. Yet. They’re testing our defenses. Mines took out an entire platoon, and I don’t think there are many more nearby, but I should be there since you can’t be.”

  So much shit had happened so fast, he didn’t even know how much longer he’d promised to remain in Eldritch territory. Two months, maybe? Whatever, Korin was right; she had to defend the pack holding in his stead. And he completely trusted her to do it.

  In response, he carried Janek’s body to Korin’s personal vehicle. “Get me some blankets. He’s been cold long enough.”

  Fucking irrational, but those measures might restore some of the respect that the old wolf had earned through a long and worthy life. With reverent hands, Raff wrapped him up, head to toe. He’d probably never be able to forget the awful angle of his head or the color of Janek’s throat. They broke his neck and kept twisting. With Animari healing, it must have taken ages to die, and it would’ve been excruciating.

  I’m sorry, old friend. I failed you.

  Part of him wanted to ask Sky exactly when but knowing wouldn’t help or reduce his complicity. It wasn’t like he could go back and save him, so he stepped back and closed the Rover’s rear doors. He faced Korin with a neutral expression, he hoped.

  “Give him full warrior honors at the service. I wish I could be there, but I’ll have to settle for visiting his ossuary when we come home.”

  “We,” Korin repeated. Her eyes held questions that he couldn’t answer.

  Raff resorted to an obvious truth. “It’s in the marital agreement. Thalia will spend three months at Pine Ridge once we finish here.”

  Thankfully, Korin didn’t pursue whatever curiosity she might be nursing, and she was way too smart not to realize this wasn’t the time to roast him. “We’ll be waiting. Unless you need me to stick around, I’m taking most of the troops back with me. Do you have enough forces with the quarter I’m leaving and the Eldritch still loyal to Thalia?”

  “It should be. If a full unit comes at us, the mines will decimate them. You only got to the fortress because you know where they’re placed.”

  “True,” Korin said. “Take care of yourself.”

  He glanced at Sky, hovering like a shadow near the walls. “I’m not sure what to do with her. She’s not all right.”

  Korin sighed. “If I take her home now, she’ll read it as a vote of no confidence. I’m not sure she’ll recover from that.”

  “Then she stays. I’ll ask her to read up on Eldritch customs, so she can take Janek’s place as my closest personal advisor.”

  For a second, surprise flashed in his second’s expression, revealed in the arch of her brows and the tilt of her head. “That’s…unexpectedly wise. And thoughtful.”

  He made an obscene gesture. “What, like I never came up with a good idea before?”

  “You want an honest answer here, Raff?”

  “I don’t know, do I?”

  “Well, I’m giving one. It’s not that you couldn’t come up with good solutions before, more that you didn’t try. I’m not sure if it was because your old man brainwashed you into believing your head’s full of sawdust, but before you came to Daruvar, you seemed content to let me do the thinking, so you could keep drinking.”

  “Ouch.” He wasn’t even pretending; that fucking did sting.

  “Don’t look at me like that. It’s a compliment, I’m saying you’ve changed. You’re stepping up…and I like it. Responsibility looks good on you, wolf lord.”

  Raff mumbled something, stepping away from the Rover. “Get clear of the woods before nightfall. The mines can only protect you so far, so I’ll have a drone keeping watch until you get back to Pine Ridge.”

  “Understood. Take care of yourself…and your new wife. I haven’t spent much time with her, but I can tell she’s a force to be reckoned with by the way she swings a sword.”

  At Korin’s signal, the bulk of the wolf forces mounted up. The gates slammed shut behind the convoy, and he kept watch from the walls until the vehicles vanished from sight. Sky stood behind him silently, probably still stewing in her guilt.

  “I have a new assignment for you,” he said.

  Surprise lit her delicate features before she nodded. “Anything. I’m ready.”

  As soon she heard, Sky headed to the library, where she should be safely immersed in Eldritch lore. Weariness set in, making Raff aware of all his aches and pains. He still wanted that shower, but he needed to talk to Titus, see what the great cat had in mind. If he didn’t have any plans, Raff had an idea there, too. Seemed like maybe Korin was right, and he was suddenly full of plans and schemes.

  It’s because of Lady Silver. I’m trying to keep up.

  If Raff was completely honest, he was trying to please her and make her proud, and never fucking give a reason to regret choosing him.

  22.

  Thalia found Raff in the makeshift field hospital, having Dr. Wyeth cut yet another bullet out of him. She flinched as the scalpel dug into him, as the red trickled out. The wolf lord didn’t know she was watching, but he still refused all anesthetic, though he did accept a unit of Eldritch universal donor blood. Who knew how that would turn out? Mos
t of what they did together was unprecedented.

  When he finally noticed her, he pinned a smile on immediately, no matter how unconvincing. She returned it, trying not to think of that terrible moment on the wall. He almost died. Again. If I’d been even a second later—

  No. There was no gain to be had by obsessing over tragedies that didn’t happen. Still, her insides churned with fear and adrenaline. It took all her self-control not to run to him and pull his messy head to her chest and slap the doctor’s hands away. Those impulses were both fierce and foreign, giving her no inner peace.

  “Seems like you survived,” she said then.

  “Not trying to brag, but I’m bloody good at it.”

  Frustration rose like a stormy wave, but she quelled it. He wouldn’t appreciate being chided in front of the physician. Thalia wrapped that concern up and packed it tight and deep, along with her sorrow over Tirael. Layers of sadness and grief, hardly acknowledged, trembled within her, along with feelings she could scarcely name. The other Eldritch couldn’t see her weakness or uncertainty, however. They followed an icy, confident woman, one worthy to be queen.

  Rather than quarrel with Raff, she turned to the doctor. “Is his treatment finished?”

  “For now. He needs rest, though, and to stop taking terrible wounds.”

  “Understood. I’ll try to keep him out of trouble,” she said.

  “I’d appreciate it if you could extend that claim to the rest of us. Daruvar has seen sufficient excitement.”

  It wasn’t quite a reproach—Wyeth wouldn’t dare—but the words held a similar shape. Thalia inclined her head. “I’ll do my best.”

  Raff stood on his own. “I’ve been fantasizing about warm food and a hot shower, or vice versa, for what feels like forever. Any chance that a war hero could get some recognition around here?”

  “A war hero? Really?” But she took the hand he held out to her. “Thank you, doctor. We’ll get out of your way now.”

  She had no idea who to ask in the current hierarchy, who had been just below Lileth, so she stopped a random Eldritch staffer in the hallway. “Who’s been running the keep since…” There was no way to finish the question, not physically possible.

  The woman knew, though, her eyes soft and kind. “Madam Isoline. Do you need her for something?”

  “Not right now. We only require some food, as fast as you can prepare it.”

  The worker nodded, glancing between her and the dirty wolf warrior at her side. I probably don’t look much better.

  “Right away, Your Highness.”

  “Oh, and if there’s venison left from Raff’s hunt, please give him a generous portion.” She suspected that the additional protein would help mend his injuries faster, though she was no expert in Animari care.

  I need to become one.

  As the staffer left, Raff brushed Thalia’s tangled hair away from her face. “Let’s take a break, shall we? It’s been rough.”

  “Agreed.”

  At her urging, he took the first shower and while he was safely out of earshot, she cried. For Tirael, the secrets she’d kept, hatred nursed furtively and kept alive through years of conspiracy and secret violence. She must have wanted vengeance for her mother and to stand proudly at their father’s side. Now she shared her mother’s ill-starred fate, a head on a pike, hair streaming in the bitter wind.

  Thalia wiped her face as Raff stepped out of the bath in a whorl of steam. She’d hoped he take long enough in luxuriant scrubbing that he wouldn’t catch her, but he zeroed in on her tears straight away. Wearing only a towel—and that in the most cursory fashion—he dropped down beside her, water still beaded on his chest and shoulders.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  “You’re not. Come here.”

  When he opened his arms, she went. Before she met Raff, before Lil died, Thalia had always cried alone. Always. Lileth had hammered it into her head almost from birth that she couldn’t trust anyone with her vulnerable moments; she had to hide them, deny them, pretend she was nothing but a suit of armor filled with endless courage.

  She’d meant to stop, dam up the waterworks, but with his arms around her, the tears fell faster, and her sobs came loud and harsh, until she feared she might choke or pass out. He took it all while stroking her back and whispering nonsense words into the tangled mass of her grungy hair. Thalia didn’t even know why he would; none of this was covered in their agreement, but she held onto him with all her strength, her face against his warm, hairy chest. Unexpectedly comforting.

  Who knew what else she might have said or done, if a knock hadn’t sounded. Raff released her gently and stood. “That’ll be our dinner. I’ll take care of it. You get cleaned up.”

  Thalia retreated to the bathroom, conscious that he was shielding her. The room was still steamy, and the mirror blurred, but that made it easier to strip without minding how much weakness she’d revealed. Trust didn’t come easily to her, but he’d had so many chances to betray her that she couldn’t imagine him turning now. No matter why, Raff continued to honor their agreement and offer perplexing extra services.

  Like holding me while I wept.

  He’d probably object if she told him that the three words that sprang to her mind to describe him were sweet, generous, and gentle. Smiling, she stepped into the hot trickle of water that was the best Daruvar’s ancient pipes could provide. Because of the low pressure, it took a long time to scrub herself clean and rinse her hair properly, a delay sufficient to get her emotions in order, as Raff had doubtless known. She put her hair up in a towel and wrapped another around her body. For Thalia, that wasn’t an oversight but an intentional choice to respond to the intimacy of his dishevelment in kind.

  When she stepped out of the bathroom, he had the food laid out on a low table, the fire built up in the hearth just beyond. “We dine by firelight?”

  That, too, was kind, as the flickering shadows were forgiving of her red and swollen eyes.

  Raff beckoned, patting the place next to him. “You have bread and a bubbling vegetable soup. I have a slab of venison in gravy over a bed of roasted potatoes.”

  “Have you been charming the kitchen staff again?”

  “Guilty,” he said, taking up his spoon.

  Their meal was mostly silent, punctuated by the crackle of the fire. The flames gilded his skin and lent him a startling allure, so much that she kept sneaking looks, veiled through her lashes. One wasn’t enough, so her gaze returned to him repeatedly while she tried to decide when he’d become so beautiful. It wasn’t any single feature, but she loved the long spill of his dark curls now, and the breadth of his shoulders, the tight-coiled springs of his beard, and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled.

  As he was doing now. At her.

  “What?” she mumbled.

  “You’re staring. Do I have stew on my face?”

  “No.” It was an awkward wedge of an answer, stuck in the intangible door between them, but her sudden curtness didn’t dim the twinkle in his night-dark eyes. They were beautiful too, the deepest brown, fringed in ridiculous lashes and topped with thick, slightly intimidating brows.

  “Hardly.”

  Using the edge of his spoon, he scraped his bowl clean, seeming untroubled by Thalia’s scrutiny. “Then what is it? And if you can’t tell me this, tell me something else, a secret nobody else knows.”

  Raff didn’t think Thalia would respond with a real answer. He expected a joke or a quick dismissal, but to his surprise, she bit her lip, deeply pensive. Then she scooted closer, as if the walls might seriously have ears. In this place, maybe he shouldn’t rule out the idea.

  Eldritch politics were a lot deadlier and more convoluted than he’d bargained for. Raff still hadn’t completely wrapped his head around the fact that her half-sister had been hiding in plain sight and plotting Thalia’s downfall for how many years? Unheard of among the Animari—tempers ran too hot for that sort of treachery. In Pine Ridge, if you pissed someone off, t
he two of you fought it out and let it go.

  “I’ve been wanting to tell you this anyway,” she whispered. “But I couldn’t figure out how…and maybe it won’t matter to you—”

  “Just spill it,” he cut in.

  Must be something major if she’s this nervous.

  “I don’t have a gift,” she said, low.

  Holy shit.

  From what he’d gathered about Eldritch culture, this would be akin to revealing that she was Latent. Raff knew that gifts developed in early adulthood and that using the preternatural ability too much equated to burning life force. Korin had briefed him about the Eldritch Noxblade, Zan, who sacrificed himself for the Golgoth Prince during the Battle of Hallowell. His mind raced, weighing the implications. If her people knew, would they still support her push for the throne?

  “That’s why you use the bracers,” he guessed.

  She nodded, staring pointedly away from him into the fire. “I do have a certain mechanical aptitude that lets me design and build unusual things, but no innate power.”

  “Did Lileth know?”

  “She was the only one, until you.”

  “Why’d you tell me?” Raff had asked for a secret, but he never could’ve predicted she’d share something so momentous.

  The level of trust it indicated stole his breath. Right then and there, he decided it didn’t matter whether her people would still back her; they’d never hear of it from him. Plus, if she’d come all this way on sheer determination and charisma, then in his book, she’d more than earned the dubious benefit of an antiquated Eldritch title.

  “You asked.”

  “That’s an excuse, Lady Silver. You could’ve shared something else, like a little story about stealing cookies as a kid.”

  A fleeting, wistful smile flickered at the edges of her mouth. “Lileth never let me get away with anything like that.”

  “Sounds like she ruled your childhood with an iron fist.”