The Wolf and the Highlander (Highland Wishes)

by Jessi Gage

  A growl rumbled in his chest at the injustice of another man dictating how he loved his mate. He’d thought Magnus fair and wise, but the man had refused to listen to sense. Riggs had done nothing wrong, and yet the king punished him—and Anya—for becoming lifemates. He’d tried to shame Riggs with the implication that he lacked faith in Danu by believing Anya barren when, in fact, it was spending time with Anya that had restored his faith in the goddess. It was the king who lacked faith by assuming one chestnut haired miracle was all Danu was capable of.

  He expected Neil to comment on his mood, but either his uncle didn’t hear his growl, or his mind was elsewhere. Yeah, that made sense. As Magnus’s war chieftain, Neil would have his hands full with the news Riggs had shared with him on the journey.

  Riggs had taken his uncle away from the camp and shared how the Larnians Anya first ran into had assumed she had escaped from Bantus’s harem. Then he’d told him everything he and Anya had overheard from the trackers. His uncle had frowned. “I wish you hadn’t discovered such things,” he’d said. Riggs wished he hadn’t discovered them, either. He wished there had been nothing to be discovered.

  “What did the king say when you passed along my news?” Riggs asked as Neil nodded a greeting to two soldiers standing guard over a heavy iron door.

  One soldier pulled a key from his shirt and unlocked the door. It squeaked on its hinges as Neil pushed it open and motioned Riggs through ahead of him. He had to duck and remain ducking since the ceilings were low beyond the door. He and Neil both had to bend their necks to keep from hitting their heads on the stones above. Behind them, the door shut with an echoing clang.

  “Hm?” Neil grunted, as if he weren’t really listening.

  Riggs followed him down a narrow passage and around a corner. “When you told the king, what did he say? Will he send spies to Saroc to confirm there are women there? Will he invade? What will he do with the women?” He couldn’t imagine how the Larnians had managed to obtain human women. He ached for the human fathers missing their daughters.

  “Oh. I haven’t told him yet,” Neil said as they approached another guarded door.

  “What? Why not?” Wouldn’t he and king Magnus want to start strategizing immediately?

  The guards opened the door, and when Neil and Riggs went through, the other two men followed. It took Riggs a moment to make sense of what he saw. He’d never been in the dungeon before and had expected cramped stone chambers with damp floors and dark interiors. But when they’d stepped through that second iron door, the room he found himself in couldn’t have been more different.

  Fine furs covered the floor. Tapestries dressed up the stone walls. Warm light and the scent of burning oil came from lamps set around the large room on well-crafted pieces of furniture. The two side walls were lined with half a dozen stone arches each. Bars ran from the tops of the arches to the floor. These were the cells for holding prisoners, but from the open doors and the contents of the cells, Riggs could tell no prisoners had been kept here for some time. The cells contained couches or beds made up with fine pillows and luxurious furs.

  Each cell had a curtain hanging from a rod above it. Most of the curtains were swept to the side and held open by braided ties. Some cells had their curtains drawn. From these came the sounds of men groaning, women moaning, and of flesh slapping flesh.

  His stomach clenched. Those sounds plus the scent of mating musk in the air made it all too obvious what this room was used for.

  “What in the low realm?” he started to ask, but the guards who’d followed him and Neil inside grabbed him. He reached for his axe, remembering too late it had been taken from him.

  One of the guards put a dagger at his throat, effectively immobilizing him. The other used a length of rope to bind his wrists behind his back. Shock made him slow to react. Shite. Neil wasn’t the ally he’d assumed. Shite.

  “I’ll have to have a talk with the Larnians about keeping their mouths shut. In the meantime…” Neil shook his head. “I wish you hadn’t overheard all that, son. I really do. But there’s too much at stake to let you blab to the king.”

  Riggs strained against the guard’s grips, but the dagger cut into his skin, drawing blood, stopping shy of slicing his jugular. He stilled. “What do you mean, too much at stake?”

  “The revolution is imminent,” Neil said. “We’ve nearly got enough men to overthrow King Magnus. And not a minute too soon. His conservative ways will be the death of us. Can’t have you cluing him in to the bribes that brought Bantus on board and ruining all our plans, now can I?”

  “You’re Breeding First,” Riggs concluded. Breeding First was the political party that opposed the king at every opportunity. While Magnus held firmly that sires must be known, and thus women should mate with only one man per season, Breeding First held that women should mate with as many men as possible in a season to increase their chances of breeding. They must be bringing women to this chamber to mate with men other than those they were contracted to. And doing it behind Magnus’s back.

  He’d heard his uncle mildly criticize the king in private, but he never suspected him of being disloyal. Not only was he breaking the king’s laws, he was also committing the worst kind of treason. “You’re working with the Larnians,” he said, disgusted. Riggs would rather his people perished than align themselves with a king who condoned the vilest abuse of women and animals.

  “Only out of necessity,” Neil said. “Don’t worry. We’ve bribed them with women, but like you suspected, not our women. Women from another realm.”

  “That makes it right? They’re women like Anya. You trusted women like my lifemate to that perverted piece of shite and his lackeys?”

  By the moon, Anya had almost known the same fate. If he hadn’t chased that marbled boar into Larna, she’d be in Bantus’s harem too. The thought made him sick.

  “Out of necessity,” his uncle said with his hands spread, as if the violation of human women were a reasonable price to pay to secure Larna as an ally.

  “There’s no excuse for working with that disgrace of a king,” he said. “No need is that great. How do you plan to overthrow Magnus? By having the Larnians march here? Into Chroina? Shite, Neil, are you out of your mind? Our women are here. How do you know the Larnians will keep to Glendall and not make a run for the Fiona Blath?”

  “Protecting our women is our first priority. We have a deal with Bantus. Ari provides him with the women from the other realm. If he follows through with his commitment to lend soldiers to the revolution, he’ll earn the right to keep the women he has. If he fails us in any way, including harming any of Marann’s ladies, Ari sends all the women back to the realm they came from.”

  Riggs shook his head. First off, he doubted the human women would be returned for any reason. Second, Neil was talking about the use of powerful magic as if it were an everyday occurrence. Magic came from the immortal realm, and legend held that immortals never shared their magic cheaply. What price did Ari pay for this power to take human women from Anya’s world? What price would Marann pay?

  “You’re making a mistake,” Riggs said. “How can you betray Magnus like this? He’s been a good king. His family has always ruled fairly.”

  Behind Neil, beyond the fall of a drawn velvet curtain, male and female sounds of pleasure reached a crescendo that set Riggs’s teeth on edge. Neil curled his lip and said, “This from the man who’s being forced to enter a pact and share his lifemate? Most men in your position would be looking to help the rebels. But no. You’re still loyal to Magnus, even though he’d just as soon toss you in the dungeon as look at you.”

  The curtain behind Neil opened, revealing an open cell door and a naked woman sprawled on a bed. Her hair-covered breasts rose and fell with panting breaths. Her face was flushed. A smile curved her lips. Her blond coat gave away who the woman was. Diana. The youngest female and the only one with hair so fair.

  A man strode from the cell, wrapping his crimson war kilt to cover his spe
nt prick. Sweat beaded his forehead, which was prominent due to him wearing his straight black hair swept back into a club. Ari. Magnus’s second, who should be in Saroc keeping Bantus in line. Riggs knew him by sight, but had never met him.

  Ari straightened his commander’s sash and fastened his belt as he approached, coolly appraising Riggs. “Pacts and lifemates?” he said, inclining his head to Neil in greeting. “It seems I’ve missed quite a bit. I see Magnus’s party has returned. Is this the one Bilkes warned us about?”

  Bilkes. The messenger. So he was Breeding First too.

  “Yeah,” Neil said. He met Riggs’s eyes with a sad shake of his head. “I can’t say enough how badly I wish you’d minded your business out at your cabin. I would have made sure you got a chance to breed once the new regime was in place. Now…” He spread his hands again.

  Cold dread made a fist around his bowels.

  “Enough talking,” Ari said. “Kill him.”

  Neil growled at Ari. “He’s my nephew. No one’s killing him. Use your magic stone. Send him to Saroc to be held with the resisting soldiers.” Facing Riggs, he said, “When the revolution is over, we’ll sort out the prisoners and release those not deemed to be a threat to the new regime. If you’re smart, you’ll keep your head down and not stir up trouble.” His gaze became intense, as if he were warning Riggs about something.

  He wasn’t the one who needed to be warned. Neil and Ari, the two men Magnus held in closest confidence, were traitors. They planned a coup. Riggs had to get out of here and warn the king. He had to protect Anya. She wouldn’t be kept out of harm’s way in the Fiona Blath with the other women. She’d be in Glendall, where the coup would take place.

  Ignoring the dagger at his throat, he reared forward, taking the guards holding him by surprise. At the same time, he kicked back, knocking the legs out from one of the guards. The blade bit further into his neck, but he let himself fall to the side and away from the dagger before it cut too deep.

  “Disable him,” Ari said.

  The guards didn’t give him a chance to regain his feet. One of them clouted him over the head with something heavy. Pain struck like lightning. He lost command of his body. He was yanked to his knees, but only remained upright because of the guards holding him. If they let go, he’d fall to the floor like a bag of sand.

  “I’ll send him to Saroc because he’s your sister’s son. But I make no guarantees of his safety,” Ari said. “Bantus has an interesting idea of fun.” He drew a jagged red stone from the pouch at his hip. “By the power of Hyrk, god of darkness, and for his glory, I call forth a door to the holding cell.”

  A glowing, swirling red light seeped from the stone and grew in size until a miniature storm churned in the middle of the room. “Give my regards to Bantus,” Ari said, and the guards shoved him into the eerie light.

  Chapter 21

  “And here is the great hall.” Magnus led Anya through two towering doors to a long room with vaulted ceilings and mahogany-lined balconies. Tables lined the walls, as if they’d been pushed aside for sweeping. At the far end by two fireplaces large enough for a man to walk into, male servants were laying rushes over the spotless flagstone floor. One of the servants was thin and fresh-faced. Unlike his fellow servants, he looked up and fixed innocently curious eyes on her. He smiled, and his cheeks turned pink. Aye, just as she’d expected. He was quite young, a lad not quite into manhood.

  He’d be rare, this young man, if the birth rate was so low. Yet he served. Interesting.

  Oblivious to the servants, Magnus strode ahead of her and spun in a circle, arms spread. “The oldest part of Glendall. In the old days, this served as throne room, kitchen, dining room, and dance hall, and the balconies served as sleeping quarters. Today, it’s used for dining and entertaining only.”

  He looked at her with eyebrows raised in expectation, as if to say, Go on, tell me how wondrous you find it all.

  “It’s lovely,” she said without enthusiasm, wondering when the tour would come to an end. She didn’t mind the walking after days of riding, but she was eager to reunite with her pledgemate. Riggs’s promise of soon was turning to an interminable delay. How furious would Magnus be with her if she requested to skip the bath he had planned for her so she could find Riggs instead? Or if she asked to share the bath with Riggs? Och, she kent better than to ask for the latter. Judging by Magnus’s tenuous smile, she’d do well not to mention Riggs’s name at all. Standing before her was a man who was working hard to be content with his lot.

  “I’ve saved the best for last. This way, Lady Anya.” He led her out of the great hall.

  She cast a last look at the young servant before Magnus’s guards closed in behind them and blocked her view. “That one servant,” she said. “He looks quite young.”

  Magnus beamed at her, the most genuine smile she’d received from him. “That’s Julian,” he said with a proud puff of his chest. “He’s twenty-two. Many of my servants are young men. I honor the youngest citizens of Marann by giving them prized positions in my household. The very youngest receive the greatest honor of all. They serve in the Fiona Blath. You know of the common house?”

  She nodded. Riggs had told her all about the building that housed Marann’s women of breeding age. It was the most secure place in Chroina.

  “All except Travis, that is,” Magnus said. “You’ll meet Travis soon.” His lips twitched with a secretive smile as he threw open the doors to a vast room.

  There was marble everywhere. The floors were marble. The walls were marble interleaved with tapestries. Marble columns ran the length of both sides of the room. A marble dais occupied the far end. Upon the dais were two thrones, a large one and a smaller, less ornate one. Fascinated with the opulent room, all thoughts of children and servants flitted from her mind.

  Magnus walked her down a crimson carpet. “The throne room.” His voice echoed off the marble as he gestured grandly. When they neared the dais, he left her facing the thrones and walked to the side of the room. There he pulled on a long braided cord. The crimson curtains behind the thrones parted to reveal two portraits.

  The one over the large throne depicted Magnus in what must have been his finest clothing. He held a bloodied spear and posed over the carcass of an enormous boar with mottled hide, like the one she’d seen when she’d first arrived in this place. With his chest puffed up and his eyes ablaze with pride, he reminded her of Laird Steafan. Thinking of her former laird and would-be conquest no longer thrilled her deep in that place of womanly longing. That place was now filled to overflowing with love for her humble wolf-man, a man who killed beasts like the one shown in Magnus’s portrait with his bare hands instead of a spear because he wouldn’t want to mar the hide, a man whose most prized possession wasn’t a throne but a ring given him by his mother.

  Her gaze wandered to the portrait over the smaller throne. Recognition plowed over her. Her face went cold. Her whole body went cold. Ringing filled her ears.

  She felt Magnus’s attention rooted on her. She couldn’t look away from the portrait.

  “I dreamt of you the first time when I was a young man,” he said, his voice punching through the ringing even though he spoke quietly. “Newly crowned after my mother, the queen, went to Danu’s breast, I had this commissioned to restore faith to my people. The paw print is wrong. And I see the dream misled me in a few other details as well. But still, the likeness is quite good. You see now why I believe you will give me an heir.”

  The weight of his gaze pressed too close. It was too intimate. He gave a single slow stroke down the length of her unbound, wind-tangled hair, and the warmth from his hand left a trail down her scalp and the space between her shoulder blades.

  Only her pledgemate should touch her like this. Still, she couldn’t look away from the portrait.

  “This wasn’t just any dream,” he went on. Another slow stroke. He was standing so near. “It was from the goddess. The high priest confirmed it. Danu gave me a vision of what was to
come. She gave me a vision of you as my queen—or at my side, at any rate, holding my child. Our child.”

  In the silence that followed, the ringing finally began to fade. She tore her gaze from the portrait. “It’s no’ me,” she said. Her voice sounded far away, as if the ringing had left wads of wool in its place. “It’s no’ me.” Her knees felt like water. She collapsed, and Magnus caught her.

  He laid her gently on the crimson carpet. “Lady? Lady Anya?” He patted her cheek.

  A commotion at the entrance made them both look that way. Neil was rushing toward them shouting somat she didn’t understand. Bloody Magnus thieving her bloody gemstone! “Stop slapping me.” She shoved his hand away and sat up, reluctantly accepting the help of his arm behind her shoulders.

  He squatted at her side, new tension pulsating from him. He frowned past her. “How? When?” he asked Neil.

  Neil sucked air. His chest heaved and sweat dampened his hair, as if he’d run a great distance to tell the king whatever news this was.

  “What’s he blethering about?” she demanded. “And help me stand, will you?” Bloody undignified being laid out on the floor.

  A pleat of concern formed between Magnus’s brows. “Perhaps you should remain sitting for the moment. He says your trapper has fled.”

  “Fled?”

  “He says they were interviewing him when he suddenly became violent, disabled a guard, and ran away.”

  Ran away? She’d never witnessed Riggs run from anything. No, her courageous and capable wolf-man always ran toward trouble, facing it head-on with honor. Besides, he’d promised, “Hinatha.” ’Twas not the sort of promise a man would make if he planned on running away.

  “He wouldn’t,” she said, but the men went on talking in urgent tones, not listening.