Heart of the Wolf

by Saranne Dawson

  Rina’s gray kitten crawled up onto his leg and he picked up a ball of yam, then unwound some and dangled it before the kitten, who immediately began to leap at it.

  Jocelyn thought about her behavior this afternoon. What must he think of her? How could he take her seriously when she’d behaved like a child? She’d been mortified to find him there.

  He tossed the yam ball in her direction, letting it unwind as it rolled. The kitten quickly became entangled in the yam as it scrambled after it, and before she could reach down to help it, Daken got up and came over to pick it up, holding it in one big hand as he freed it from its temporary prison. Jocelyn watched him, thinking how gentle he was. Then, just as her thoughts began to veer off into disturbing fantasies, he set the kitten down and looked up at her.

  "You enjoyed yourself this afternoon—but now you’re regretting it.”

  She was once again shocked and a bit fearful at his uncanny ability to read her thoughts. Whenever it happened, she told herself that her thoughts merely happened to be transparent—but that deep fear of sorcery lingered.

  "Yes, I did enjoy it—but I fear that I behaved like a child."

  “You did,” he acknowledged with a smile. "But what was the harm in that?"

  "The harm” she stated candidly, "is that such behavior could make it difficult for you and your people to take me seriously.”

  "Ahh,” he said as he once again lifted the kitten to disentangle it from the yam, "and you struggle always to be taken very seriously.”

  "Well, of course I do. When I was a child, I was the pampered pet of my father's court. No one ever took me seriously. But since my brother’s death, I’ve worked hard to change that. And now that I’m empress, it’s even more important.”

  "Do you take yourself seriously?" he asked, his pale eyes boring into her.

  "Yes, of course, but . . .”

  "Then that is all that is necessary. The rest will follow in time."

  "Do you take me seriously, Daken?" She asked, meeting his level gaze with one of her own.

  "I take you very seriously—although I enjoy the other side of you as well, when you permit it to be seen."

  "Sometimes I fear that you think of me as a child,” she persisted, though she knew she was treading close to dangerous territory

  He nodded slowly, his gaze shifting to the kitten again, creating the momentary impression for her that he was embarrassed.

  "Yes, I think I do—and I shouldn’t. But those feelings play no part in my decision to ally my people with yours—and that is what’s important to you, isn’t it?”

  With his final words, spoken after the briefest of hesitations, he turned back to her again—and she was sure she saw a subtle challenge in his eyes.

  Once again, as during those moments at the market, Jocelyn felt something shift within their relationship. That quiet challenge, his slightly lowered voice, even the way they seemed to lean closer to each other without actually moving—Jocelyn felt and saw and heard it all as that liquid heat stole through her. The conversations of the others in the room faded to an indistinct murmur as they stared at each other for what could not have been more than a second but seemed forever.

  The kitten had lost interest in the ball of yam and began to dig its tiny claws into the hem of her gown. Just as she bent to pick it up, he leaned forward to reach for it, too. His hand covered hers, and his head brushed lightly against her arm. They both stopped—and their eyes met again.

  Carefully erected guards fell away. In his clear, pale eyes, she saw a desire so powerful that she could only respond with the truth—a confused truth of inchoate longings and fears.

  The moment passed, and they joined in the conversation of the others. Daken avoided her glance, but she wasn’t aware of it because she was carefully avoiding his as well. They both knew that an invisible barrier had been breached, however briefly, and that it would happen again.

  Chapter Five

  Days and then weeks passed. The snows grew ever deeper and the weather colder still. Jocelyn fitted herself into the winter life of the Kassid as best she could, and they were unfailingly kind and gracious to her, although she continued to find their informality disconcerting.

  As she stared out from the warmth of the fortress into the bitter cold of the mountains, Jocelyn worried about her people. Was there enough coal in the storehouses to see them through the winter? Certainly, Ertrian winters were mild by comparison with what she saw here, but they were still cold and damp enough to cause great suffering.

  And despite the Kassid’s kindness, she felt out of place here, without any purpose. There seemed to be nothing more she could do to affect the decision the Kassid would make regarding an alliance, and this powerlessness frustrated her, making her long for her life at the palace, where she could indeed influence events.

  She attended some of Rina's classes, where she saw first-hand how Kassid children were educated to their responsibilities in this strange society. She was surprised to see Daken appear in one of the classes she attended. He was there for more than an hour, patiently answering questions the children put to him and encouraging them to give their opinions regarding matters before his council.

  A few times, when she could no longer stand being confined inside the fortress, Jocelyn dressed in the warmest clothes Rina could provide, then went out to walk along the covered walkway that ran most of the length of the courtyard. The cold truly astonished her. Within moments, her face felt numb, and not even Rina’s warm mittens could prevent her fingers from turning icy. When she hastily returned to the warmth of the fortress, Tassa saw her reddened face and brought her an ointment, telling her that she must begin to use it regularly to protect her fair skin.

  Tassa also began to instruct her in the complicated craft of knitting the beautiful sweaters Jocelyn so much admired. She’d never been much interested in knitting, although her mother had tried to teach her many years ago. Furthermore, this yam was far more difficult to work with because of its slippery texture. Nevertheless, Jocelyn saw it as a task to help her wile away her time until the arrival of spring.

  She both longed for spring and dreaded its ar-

  rival. She would be able to return to Ertria—but she would be returning to war.

  Despite her attempts to keep herself busy, Jocelyn grew increasingly frustrated by her lack of a place in the scheme of things here. It was definitely a new experience for her. Even before her brother’s death had elevated her into the position of heir to the throne, she had been important, if only as the darling of the court. And since that time, she’d always been at the very center of everything in that bustling court.

  Added to this frustration was her relationship with Daken. She saw him constantly, but they were never alone, and she suspected that he was going to some pains to keep it that way.

  She knew she should be grateful for what must surely be his attempt to maintain a proper distance between them—but she wasn’t. Daken had aroused something within her—a curiosity? a need?—and now he was leaving it unsatisfied. Besides, she was the one accustomed to drawing such lines, and it rankled that that decision had been taken from her.

  Jocelyn refused to examine too closely her feelings toward Daken. When they were together, she would find herself concentrating on some detail about him—his big, but surprisingly graceful longfingered hands, his wide mouth, the sheer size of the man. And then she would begin to drift off into vague fantasies that often ended only when their eyes met.

  She could not look into those pale eyes without remembering that wolf and shuddering inwardly over those old stories about the Kassid. Surely they

  could not be true. She’d seen not a single scrap of evidence that they had magic of any sort—except, of course, for the fortress itself. And even Daken claimed not to have seen their magic, but only heard tales of it—tales he believed implicitly.

  Daken, she’d noticed, wasn’t the only one to have those eerie pale blue, nearly colorless eyes, although they
didn’t appear to be common among the Kassid, who for the most part were dark-haired and dark-eyed. Still, some time had passed before it occurred to her that she saw those strange eyes only among some of the men. There were a few blue-eyed women, but theirs were a much deeper blue.

  She considered mentioning this observation to Rina, but decided against it. After all, even though she had gotten to see and meet many residents of the vast fortress, her observations were still limited to no more than a fraction of its population. Besides, she could think of no acceptable explanation for her interest.

  And yet, she could not forget that wolf—or the guide Tanner’s tale. In her dreams, she would see it standing there on the ledge, staring at her with that uncannily human gaze—and then it would be transformed into Daken’s figure, watching her through those same eyes.

  If anyone had asked her whether or not she believed in Kassid magic, Jocelyn would certainly have said no, despite her dreams and despite that lingering sense of their differentness. But a discussion one evening with Daken left her once again

  with the certainty that there were secrets she had not yet learned—and perhaps would never learn.

  It began out of her frustration over the lengthy process of reaching a decision regarding her request for an alliance. Jocelyn asked him how he could tolerate such a situation, how he could rule without power.

  “But I do have power, Jocelyn,” he insisted with a smile. "The best form of power is that which is rarely and lightly used.”

  “Are you saying that you could overrule your council, or your people?”

  He nodded. "I could. And I have done so a few times. But I choose those times carefully and examine my reasons closely."

  “Then even if your people decide not to ally themselves with Ertria, you could overrule them?"

  “No, I would not overrule them on that."

  "You wouldn’t—or you couldn’t?" she persisted, becoming ever more frustrated at their confusing system of government.

  He shrugged. “It is much the same."

  "I will never understand you, Daken. I’ve never met a man who seems so powerful and yet behaves like the weakest of peasants.”

  She had spoken without forethought and immediately regretted it. But he merely smiled.

  "Perhaps that is because I am both. That is the difference you cannot understand, Jocelyn. I do have great power, but only because it was freely given to me by my equals."

  She turned away, having heard his unspoken

  condemnation. She had gained her power only because she was descended from generations of unlimited power.

  "I was not suggesting that you have power only because of your family’s history. Your way is different, that’s all. And there is great power in you, Jocelyn—more, perhaps, than you think."

  She made a dismissive sound. "You’re wrong, Daken. I have power only as a result of birth. Without that, I would be nothing—because I’m a woman.”

  “Do you dislike being a woman?" he asked quietly.

  "What point would there be in that?" she asked with a frown. "I can’t very well change it."

  “But I think you would do so if you could, and that must make you very unhappy with yourself."

  He paused briefly, then went on. “I think you probably feel the need to wield power too often and too strongly, to compensate for what you believe to be your female weakness."

  She stared at him, coming dangerously close to hating him in that moment. But she managed to keep her voice level.

  "You couldn’t possibly understand, Daken. You don’t know what it is to be a woman—and you don't understand the world I live in.”

  "I think I do understand what it is to be a woman,” he said in that same low tone. "At least to the extent any man can understand. My wife and I were very close, and I came to value her often very different way of seeing things. That is why I've chosen to have female advisors.

  "And I was present at the birth of both my children—Rina and our son who died. So I have some understanding of that part of being a woman as well."

  “You were present at birthings?" she asked, too shocked to even think of hiding it.

  He nodded, his amusement over her consternation very plain. “It is our custom. A father cannot give birth to his children, but he can at least provide comfort and support to the mother."

  "But . .. but that’s horrible!" She herself had never seen a birthing, but she’d certainly heard the women talking about it. For a man to actually see such a thing. .. . She was quite simply beyond imagining that.

  "I thought it was beautiful," he said in that simple, honest way that still surprised her.

  Beautiful? From what she’d overheard, it was anything but that! The women of her court spent hours complaining in great detail about their travails.

  "Well, perhaps it is—but it doesn’t matter to me, since I will never have children.”

  She thought it politic to change the subject, so when he made no further comment, she asked him why he hadn't remarried—a matter of some considerable curiosity to her, but one she’d never felt comfortable about raising with Rina.

  He shrugged. "I've found no one I want to marry."

  "But don’t you want a son?"

  "I have a daughter. If Erina had lived, we would certainly have had more children.”

  "All men want sons," she stated.

  "Only in a world where women are valued less."

  She was convinced he was being dishonest with her and it made her angry. "Don’t try to tell me that women aren’t valued less here, Daken," she scoffed. "You suggested once that a woman could become leader of your people—and yet none ever has, and Rina told me they can’t.”

  “It's true that none has yet, and it’s also true that there are at present certain requirements that women cannot meet. But I think that will change."

  "What are those requirements?” she demanded, recalling how Rina had deftly sidestepped that question.

  He stared at her in silence for a very long time, then slowly shook his head.

  "There are things about us that you could not understand, Jocelyn—and I think you would not want to understand them."

  He got up then to tend the fire, and she knew he would say no more. Had it been her imagination, or had he actually sounded regretful? She wasn't sure.

  She shivered, even though the room was comfortably warm. It was clear to her that he was referring to sorcery, that he hadn’t told her all the truth about himself and his people.

  Perhaps, she thought, only the men are sorcerers, since they use their power in war—and perhaps one must be a sorcerer to become leader.

  The Kassid had once again become a dark mystery to her—unknown and unknowable.

  * * *

  More days and nights of snow and bitter cold passed. The Dark Mountains were now deep in winter. Jocelyn began to doubt that spring would ever come, and her dreams turned into nightmares of being locked away in the black fortress forever.

  She began to lead two very separate lives. Outwardly, she remained the same, but inwardly, she lived in a hidden world of fears where seemingly normal, pleasant people transformed themselves into wolves or called down lightning or cast spells upon her.

  But not even those dark imaginings could quell her fascination with Daken. She would lie in bed at night reliving some incident during the day—a certain look he’d given her, a tone of voice, a casual gesture.

  Daken wore his affections openly, unlike any other man she’d ever known. From a kiss on Tassa’s cheek to thank her for some special favor to hugs for Rina to an arm draped across the shoulder of his young aide who was worried about his father’s health—Daken showed affection to everyone.

  And she too was included in this. He was extraordinarily sensitive to her moods, knowing when to suggest a walk outside or how to draw her out of the bleakness that would come over her as she thought about her home or the loss of her father.

  Was there anything different in the way he treated h
er? This was a question she asked herself endlessly.

  It seemed to her that there was a difference, that he was at the same time both more restrained and

  more intense with her. Or was she merely confused by her own feelings?

  She became more and more frustrated over the failure of the Kassid to reach a decision regarding an alliance. It occurred to her at this point that since the other fortresses were now unreachable until spring, she would have to wait until then for a decision.

  She asked Daken about this, not even bothering to hide her impatience. She’d long since given up on the art of diplomacy.

  “There will be an answer before spring,” he told her. “The matter is being debated among them now.”

  "But how can those in the other fortresses let you know their decisions when the trails are closed?”

  "We have magic for that," he replied with a smile, letting her know by his intonation that it wasn’t really magic.

  "What magic?” she inquired, unable to think of any way such a thing could be accomplished.

  "I will show you,” he said, turning away from the window where he’d been gazing at the snow that appeared to be letting up after two full days. "That is, if you’re willing to walk a long distance.”

  She walked to the window and peered out at the courtyard that was buried beneath several feet of snow. “How could we walk through that?”

  "We won’t. The walk is inside the fortress, although part of it might feel like the outside."

  Despite the many hours she had spent roaming about the huge fortress, Jocelyn knew that she had

  yet to see all of it. The hallways were endless and there were many levels.

  So they set out, after she had gathered up a cloak to wear over her gown. She’d recently gone back to wearing the gowns she’d brought with her, after realizing that she was becoming entirely too comfortable in trousers. Most of the younger women here wore them regularly, but she knew she could not dress in such an outrageous manner when she returned to court. There were some things not even an empress would dare to do.