The Night Prince (The Wolf King, #2)(21)

“I cannot conduct a ceremony to honor our goddess when a supporter of the God of Night is in attendance—”

“Elsie is no more of an acolyte than any of us here.” Blake’s voice is like a blade as he approaches.

Arran is beside him, and the large man’s arm brushes against me as he grabs Alfie’s collar and tugs. Tears shimmer in the boy’s eyes, until Arran scoops him up and sits him on his broad shoulders.

“Come on, trouble,” he says. “Let’s go count the stones in the circle.” He strides away, and I wonder if he doesn’t want the young boy to witness whatever Blake has planned next.

“Apologize,” says Blake, his tone like silk.

The night has quietened around us, as if Blake’s presence has alerted both clans that something is going on. Elsie’s cheeks redden.

“It’s fine, Blake,” says Elsie. “Don’t you dare cause a scene. Not tonight. You’ll ruin everything. I’d rather be in bed with a book than listen to this bitch drone on all night, anyway.”

Blake keeps his gaze on the priestess. “Apologize,” he repeats.

The priestess glares up at him. “It is forbidden to spill blood on this night.”

“Who said anything about spilling blood?” The corner of his lip curves, and Callum tenses behind me. “I have a hallucinogenic in my infirmary that makes Wolves think their skin is melting from their bones. I have a paralytic that makes one long for death. Do you know what sound a wolf makes when they are deprived of air, again and again and again? I do.”

A chill skitters over my skin that has nothing to do with my anger, nor the iciness in the Northlands air.

“That’s enough, Blake,” says Callum softly. “She’s still a priestess.”

“He’s right, though.” My words come out quietly, as if I can’t quite believe I’m saying them. Every bone in my body is locked, every muscle tight. “She should apologize.”

The priestess looks between Blake and me. Her eyebrows almost imperceptibly lift—as if something has dawned upon her. She dips her head. “I apologize.”

She turns on her heel and strides toward the center of the circle. Elsie huffs sharply through her nose. Her dark hair whips her face as she spins around to face Blake. “I told you not to interfere.” She shakes her head. “I’m heading back.”

Blake grabs her wrist. “You have every right to be here—”

Her eyes blaze. “Drop it. And she’d better be alive in the morning.” When Blake doesn’t reply, she smacks his arm. “Blake.”

His mouth pinches in the corners. “Fine.”

He puts his hands into his pockets as she stomps away from us all. She casts one last glance at Alfie on Arran’s shoulder before she disappears between the stones to head back down the mountain.

“What was all that about?” There’s a crease in Callum’s brow. “Does she worship Night?”

“No,” says Blake. “She’s tainted by her father’s choices, that’s all.”

Not for the first time, I wonder who she is to Blake. Before either of us can ask anything else, Lochlan strolls up to us, four drams of whisky in hand. Blake conceals his emotion as quickly as I do.

“Is everything okay?” asks Lochlan.

“Fine,” says Blake. He’s watching the priestess as she talks to a group of women wearing yellow tartan beneath their cloaks.

Lochlan passes us each a drink. “Well. . . here’s to old friends, new alliances, and broken birds escaping their cages.” He winks at me.

Despite the discomfort of what has just occurred, we clink our glasses and drink. I can’t shake the dark feeling that has come over me as the smoky substance burns my throat.

“Tonight is going to be fun,” says Lochlan.





Chapter Nine





It takes a while for the tension to dissipate after Elsie’s departure. Yet as more of Lochlan’s whisky is consumed, the chatter gets merrier, and the scent of alcohol fills the air. I even catch Blake laughing with members of his clan, who, strangely, seem to like him.

The ceremony is more serene than I expected, though much has surprised me about Wolves since I arrived in the Northlands. There is a brutal beauty in this kingdom—in its wild peaks, and howling winds, and powerful alphas who can be gentle as well as deadly.

Callum has me tucked against his side as we sit against the stones in the circle, holding unlit candles while the priestess tells us stories of the Elderwolf, when darkness claimed the Northlands and monsters roamed the earth. Her own candle is alight and flickers in front of her face.

“When Ghealach was sentenced by the Sun to the prison in Night’s Sky, before she ripped out her heart and sent it to the Elderwolf, she was only condemned to be captive for a century. However, she travelled to the depths of his prison to make a deal with him,” says the priestess. “And thus, we experienced the first Dark Night.

“On this night, she vowed she would stay with Night in his prison for all eternity, if, in exchange, he would lock all the monsters who possessed his dark power within his cells. Her soul was one he coveted more than any other, so he accepted her terms, knowing it was the only way he could keep her forever. The vow was sealed with her power, and the monsters disappeared from our world. What Night did not realize was that, in his haste, he was tricked. For he, too, was a monster with dark power—and thus was locked within his prison too.