"We're back. Tobrytan sauntered in with Eanruig trailing. We took her for a walk and she was a holy terror the entire time."
"Did you find out anything? Or are we going to have to suffer through another walk with Darcy. Eanruig dropped into a chair and poured a whiskey.
Artair's eyes went thoughtful and somewhat crafty. Love letters."
"From MacIver to Darcy? Tobrytan propped his elbows on the table, looking mildly interested.
"They're sleeping together."
"Gaah! Tobrytan smacked the table with his palm. Anyone with the balls to stick it to Darcy has got to be mad."
"Or very good at what he does. For one thing he's educated. Artair began ticking off Finn's virtues on his fingers. He's the prince's spiritbrother. He killed Jondries in single combat. So he's good with his weapons. Sinclair trained him. So if Darcy needed a paddling, he could give it to her. And I think Darcy's sweet on him."
"If he got her up the stick... Eanruig suggested.
Tobrytan shook his head with a snort. Darcy's too smart to end up with a bun in the oven."
"I don't know ... have you seen that moony look she gets when one of his letters arrive? Eanruig got that hopeful look in his eyes. Love makes a bitch forgetful of some things."
"Not Darcy. She's not the cubs and cookies type. It would never happen, scoffed Tobrytan.
"I say we talk him up to her. The fight with Jondries impressed her."
Artair took another drink from his glass, tapped his chin, and thought. Let's take a ride over to Wolffgard and have a talk with him."
"Have to come up with a good reason for going, or Darcy will get suspicious. Tobrytan scanned their faces.
"Cahira. Artair's eyes lit up. She has a store and sells books. Darcy knows how I am about books. I'll go talk to Finn."
CHAPTER SIX
HOSTILITY
Slouched in a comfortable chair in the Great Hall, Kynyr studied the signet ring on his finger that had turned his life inside out. Tarrant Redhand had worn that ring when he made love to Cahira. He had promised to marry Cahira and give their son his name when he returned from a meeting with Romney Silverpaw about the direction of the war called the Lycan Rebellion. But Tarrant had never returned. The sa'necari ambushed, captured, and executed him; thus breaking Cahira's heart.
Kynyr had house duty that day. He had insisted upon retaining control of his special units despite his changed status. Where the other guardsmyn had once called them the Bitch Brigade because their primary responsibility was to guard Aisha, Searlait, and Fianait, they now called them the Prince's Guard. The change amused Kynyr.
Since all the troubles began, Claw wanted at least one male at large in the family sections of the manor, watching over his sisters. Frequently there was more than one, depending upon Claw's mood, and the gardens and grounds were patrolled constantly.
Having grown up with so many sisters, Kynyr enjoyed it; and his spiritbrother Finn did also. That often led to the two of them getting paired for the duty as they were that day.
Kynyr sat next to Fianait with just enough distance between them that he did not get in her way as she wove the delicate kazamerie wool on her big loom. Fianait had always responded well to his questions about the history of their family even before learning that he was her nephew. His favorite stories involved Tarrant Redhand and now she knew why.
Fianait took out her scissors and clipped a strand of brown wool before tying on a green strand for the next row. Kynyr noticed that the ends of the scissors were blunt and rounded like children's scissors. On impulse, he glanced at her waist and saw that she carried pouches on her belt, but no knife. Bitches usually carried a small utility knife, and some of themthose that had to travel alone for any amount of timecarried a single fighting knife. The absence of a blade and the blunted scissors increased the air of fragility that clung to the elderly bitch in a way that Kynyr found difficult to define.
Searlait occupied the sofa with Malthus two nieces. Finn sat nearby watching them.
A basket of wool rested between Searlait's knees and two smaller ones rested on the floor beside the girls. Each of them had a drop spindle. Ros reacted to her attempts to teach them how to spin the wool into yarn with sulky boredom.
"I don't want to learn this. Ros lips bunched into a tight pout.
Searlait frowned. You must start learning the womanly arts if you're going to be part of this household."
Finn perked up at the generic human word womanly and he grinned. All the little bitches learn this stuff. My sisters did."
Ros snarled at him. I'm not a bitch. I'm sa'necari."
Kynyr tensed. It was not the first time Ros had shoved her nature in their faces. Until he met those two little girls, he would have said he had never met a child he disliked. They rubbed him the wrong way. His grandmother had spoken to him of sa'necari prodigies, children born with their fangs and appetites instead of gaining them at puberty. If he dared to simply grab the girl and look, he would have checked Ros mouth for fangs. The uproar that would have resulted if Ros did not have fangs made Kynyr decide that it was not worth it to harass a child.
"I want to go to the playroom. Ros glanced from face to face as if looking for a victim.
Kynyr shook his head. Cubs should do as they're told."
"I'm not a cub, you stupid wolf!"
Searlait's eyes widened and she slapped Ros. You'll go to your room and stay there."
Ros folded her arms and did not move.
"What's going on? Malthus strode into the room.
"She's trying to make a slave of me. Ros flounced in her seat with an angry tilt to her head.
Malthus turned to Searlait. What are you doing?"
Searlait explained and Malthus expression darkened.
Finn and Kynyr exchanged glances. As Claw's health worsened, they saw more displays of temper from Malthus and it put them on edge.
"My nieces are not destined for the kind of life you live. There will be no more of this."
"Don't talk to my aunts that way. Kynyr stepped between Malthus and Searlait.
"Your aunts? What proof have you given anyone that you're really family? Malthus extended his hands to his nieces, and the two girls left with him.
Kynyr had not realized how charged the air had become until he became aware that his hand had gone to his knife. He's an asshole."
Fianait let out a low moan. He frightens me."
Kynyr wrapped his arm protectively around the old bitch's shoulders. Don't be, Aunt Fianait. I'm here."
"Malthus has a point, Kynyr. Searlait adjusted her skirts. We should have Sheradyn Read your genes and make a public proclamation of it. Better to quash trouble before it starts."
"Can you arrange it?"
"I'll talk to Claw."
* * * *
Raonul hung the help wanted sign in the window of his shop. There were two parts to the smithy and he lived above it. One part was the actual working area where he forged steel and shoed horses. The other was the shop where he sold what he made and from time to time purchased acceptable inventory from merchants passing through. He liked Iradrim steel best because the dwarves were canny folk with a forge.
He had paid for a modest funeral for his dead apprentice. The last few months, Torquil had been giving him problems and if he had not gone and gotten himself killed, Raonul had been contemplating dismissing him.
A red-haired lycan stepped into the shop and nodded at the sign. He was nearly as large as Raonul, with an impressive broad chest and tremendous biceps. Are you asking for an apprentice, or are you willing to employ someone with experience?"
"At this point, I'd take either. There's too much work fer one mon."
"I'm a journeymon. I know the trade, but I also take direction well."
"Ya sound like an educated mon. What would ya be doing as a smith?"
"I come from an educated family, but I like the work."
"Whatcher name?"
"Quinn. Quinn Sinclair."
&nb
sp; "Any relation to Todd?"
"I'm one of his grandsons. He's got a lot of them."
Raonul had not yet encountered a Sinclair that he disliked. They seemed like a good family. Are ya as good at what ya do as he is what he does?"
"I like to think so."
"Then ye're hired."
Quinn smiled and clasped Raonul's arm in gesture of acceptance. If Raonul knew anything more about Torquil's association with Malthus, Quinn would now be in a position to coax it out of him.
* * * *
Since Cooley had begun wearing blades, he had also begun to get more attention from the other cubs that hung out with Rory. They all wanted to see the knives, real fighting knives. Cooley refused. He could almost hear his father's voice in the back of his mind each time one of them asked to hold them: "Ya don't let some three-fingered idjit touch yer blades."
Cooley noticed Lani O'Connor leaning against the wall of the dry goods store watching him and the other cubs. When Cooley first arrived last summer, he had been more impressed with Lani than he had with Rory.
Twelve-year-old Lani had pouchy gooseberry eyes, mousey hair, a lean build, and a truculent mouth. His father gathered and raised leeches, supplying them to the various owners of nibari, who needed to periodically bleed their slaves to avoid their developing a dangerous nibari-specific condition called Blood-Bloat. Cooley had shared various confidences with Lani, including the fact that his mother was Silkie Faggini, the Madam of the Crimson Lady brothel. He had thought nothing of it, for it had never occurred to Cooley that prostitutes might be held in utter contempt among clan wolveshe had had much to learn about the differences between city wolves and clan wolves last summer. The result was that the next day Cooley had a crowd of jeering cubs led by Lani throwing taunts and insults in his face about his mother.
Cooley had immediately gone for Lani, fists flailing, without a thought for the fact that Lani was head and shoulders bigger than he was. He ended up with a black eye and it would have been worse if Rory and his friends had not then piled onto Lani.
The cub found himself watching Lani watching them. Cooley did not like the feeling it gave him. He tried to pretend that Lani was not there, and focused on Rory and his friends. It might have worked, except that Lani came sauntering over.
"So it's true that your ma's a whore?"
Cooley's lips tightened and the other cubs started backing away. He pointedly ignored Lani.
"What'd she charge your Da to stick it into her?"
Cooley sucked in an exasperated breath. She didn't."
"Everyone knows ya don't poke a whore for free. Lani brayed with laughter.
Some of the cubs snickered.
Reminding himself that Todd did not want him fighting over taunts, Cooley turned around and started to walk away. Lani's hand closed on Cooley's shoulder, jerking him backwards and tottering two steps.
"Hit him, Cooley!"
Cooley spied the one who had barked the order at him.
Kynyr gave him an approving nod.
Cooley reached up, grabbed Lani's finger and snapped it up. Lani's hold loosened. The small cub dug his thumbnail into the back of Lani's hand, spun about, throwing weight and momentum onto the captured hand and twisting Lani's arm around as he slammed his knee into Lani's groin.
Lani's eyes bulged and he went down.
Kynyr put his hand on Cooley's shoulder and they walked away together with Rory and Hamish following. Cooley heard the other cubs hooting at Lani and making derisive noises, but showed no sign of it.
"You did good, Cooley. Remember the one who throws the first punch, grab or whatever, is in the wrong whether he lands it or not."
Cooley filled with pride, but he wanted to hear Kynyr say it again. So I did okay?"
"You sure did."
Kynyr had less and less time for Cooley since marrying Kady, and Cooley missed having Kynyr around as much.
* * * *
For the first time in years, Kynyr had not felt like walking into Wolffgard. An unusual tiredness clung to him as he dismounted from Bucky and tied him to the rail in front of the Difficult Horse.
Finn came around beside him. You okay, Kynyr? You look like you've been bushwhacked by the Dreaded Horde."
Kynyr managed a meager grin. I feel like it."
"What's wrong?"
"I haven't had a real break since we paid hell to the widow."
"Speaking of Hell's Widow, I got another letter from Darcy."
Kynyr pushed through the door, chuckling. Better you than me."
"Aww, Darcy's not so bad."
"That's what you say. Kynyr remembered with a wince how Darcy MacFie had kept chasing him with a hungry bitch look even after he told her he was married. He had greeted the news that Darcy had settled for Finn with a massive sense of relief.
They had barely settled at a table when Hereward came charging over to them brandishing his club with the silver nails in it.
"You there! Finn MacIver! It's all your fault."
Finn gave Kynyr a sidewise glance. What'd I do?"
"You cocked up my daughter. That's what you did."
Hereward swung his club. Finn ducked and went tumbling from his chair. He scrambled under the table in time to avoid a smashing strike at his retreating buttocks. Finn darted from beneath the table, made a dash for the door, and escaped.
Kynyr ambled out whistling, remounted, and rode down the street behind Finn. Think we can have a drink at the Striped Dog instead?"
"I didn't touch Larena. Do I look crazy enough to have touched Larena? Finn babbled. I wouldn't never touch Larena. Only Cullen was ever crazy enough to touch one of Hereward's daughters. I never touched Larena."
"Well, someone did. She's pregnant."
"I wouldn't touch Larena. If Darcy thought I'd touched Larena, she would have come herself and not sent a letter. She would have come here just to skin me and tack my hide to the wall."
"No doubt. Kynyr rubbed his temples, feeling a dull headache coming on.
Finn calmed down a bit. You don't look good. Maybe we should just go home?"
"You're probably right. Kynyr turned Bucky around and headed home. What did Darcy have to say in her letter?"
Finn blushed. Mushy stuff. He lowered his head as his blush spread. Kind of reads like a page out of a naughty book."
"You still thinking about proposing to that hellcat?"
"Darcy's not so bad. You just need to know how to handle her."
"And you do?"
"Yeah. A big grin dominated Finn's face. I finally found a use for all that poetry your dad made us learn."
A shadow passed over Kynyr's face at the mention of his slain father. I miss him."
CHAPTER SEVEN
FIRST FLUSTER OF LOVE
Artair's first impression of Wolffgard was the sheer size of it. The village was not a village; it was a town as large as Hell's Widow. The people were friendly and free with directions, so Artair had no problems finding Cahira's shop.
The bell hanging from the door rang, as Artair stepped inside. He glanced around, seeing the usual things on the right: notions and needles, creams and potions. On the left hand side the assortment made his eyes widen. The shop was a curious place indeed. Books of all kinds were stacked upon a counter and behind that were racks of swords and axes and daggers and maces.
Artair went to the books first and picked up a black leather bound volume with a gold leafed swan on the cover. The Black Swan: Verses to Alysinjin. Some claimed it was the most romantic book of poems ever written. His eyes lit up at that one. It was perfect for Darcy. His cousin had never had many suitors, because she was too intimidating.
He had never understood why his uncle had insisted upon giving her a boy's name, and suspected that was part of what shaped her into a hellcat.
"Can I help you?"
Artair glanced up at the sound of a sweet feminine voice and his heart leaped into his throat. She was beautiful in a statuesque way, red-haired and strong, with luminous emer
ald eyes. I want to buy this book. And ... and another one."
He put the book on the table in the rear and extended his hand to her. I'm Artair MacFie."
"Betrys Sinclair. She placed her hand in his.
Artair kissed her fingers and bowed slightly to cover his body's embarrassing reaction to her. He retreated to the books and she followed him.
"Are you looking for anything in particular?"
He began glancing at titles in a desperate fashion. A treatise on magic. He nodded for emphasis, and scanned the titles without any of them registering. Yes, magic. That's it."
Betrys laughed and it was like tinkling bells. Then you're looking in the wrong stack. Those are the naughty books."
Artair flushed and covered his further embarrassment with a faux air of nonchalance. Oh, right."
She showed him the proper stack, touched his hand and he felt like he'd been struck by lightning.
"Are you of age?"
She gave him a look mixed equally of suspicion and bemusement. I'll be fifteen next month."
"Do you like books?"
"I can read and write four languages."
Artair goggled at that. They don't make them like you in MacLachlan."
"I suppose they don't. Betrys laughed again and Artair loved the sound of it.
"Would you marry me? Artair covered his mouth in shock at what he had just said. He had always believed that love at first sight was mere poetic invention. However, standing there with Betrys Sinclair, he wanted to crawl all over her and howl like a madmon. I mean, have a drink with me?"
"If you'll say hello to my grandfather first, I will."
"And who is that?"
"Todd Sinclair."
That name brought him down to earth with a thud. I know Todd."
"Come along then, he's in the salle."
The salle was on the third floor. Betrys led him inside.
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