The Night Prince (The Wolf King, #2)(22)
“On this night, which occurs every two and a half years, when Ghealach’s light is gone from the sky, we know she finds herself in the furthest depths of his prison once more. On this night, we commemorate the sacrifice she made, and shine our light for her so she knows that we remember.”
The priestess walks around the circle, and we lift our unlit candles for her to light. We stand and I breathe in sharply as a shadow passes over the moon, and the land becomes dark. The Wolves sing in a language I don’t know—the words rough yet soft—and they raise their candles to the sky. While I don’t recognize the song, my heart knows it, somehow.
I lift my candle. Callum’s smile is big and easy, and his eyes brim with joy when they lock onto mine. It’s like he is pleased to be sharing this sacred moment with me, and warmth swells inside me.
I smile, too, as our small lights fill the darkness—casting the shadows away.
***
After the ceremony, Jack rolls a barrel of whisky, hidden behind one of the stones, into the center of the circle. He tells us it’s courtesy of Lowfell, and a cheer fills the air. The fifty or so Wolves gathered swarm around him. The bagpipe player resumes her tune and the cold air fills with music and laughter. Callum pulls me against his chest, nips my ear with his teeth, then tells me he’s going to get us some drinks.
I pull my cloak close as Callum exchanges warm greetings with a few of the Wolves in yellow tartan kilts. They laugh at something he says as he clasps one of them on the shoulder. He has an easy way with people, and I think that will be just as useful in us winning against James as his brute strength.
I’ve often thought that much of Callum’s power comes from showing his more gentle side. My father would see that as weakness, but I’m starting to see that my father’s cruelty was nothing but a mask he used to hide his fear.
Callum is making his way back to me when he stills about halfway across the circle. His body becomes rigid, and the humor disappears from his face. His expression becomes unreadable, the way it does when he’s under threat, and my insides clench. The chatter in the circle dims, as more people cast their gazes into the shadows surrounding the stones. Their wolf senses are picking up on something that I cannot. Something is wrong.
A loud crack shatters the night. My heart leaps from my body. A few Wolves throw themselves to the ground. A crack forms in one of the tall stones as a bullet hits it. I look wildly around as the music shrieks to a halt.
Men carrying muskets emerge from the shadows between the stones. Adrenaline surges through my body. James strides through them. This is the wolf who attacked me, who gave me back to Sebastian, who bit me and almost killed me.
As tall and muscular as Callum, James makes his way toward the center of circle. The wind stirs his wild brown hair, causing it to brush against his broad shoulders. He wears a simple crown made of twisted branches—a crown he didn’t wear the last time I saw him. It’s a message to those gathered here.
He is the Wolf King.
“Hello, Brother,” he says as people part around him, giving the two Wolves space. His guards remain at the edge of the stone circle—keeping us prisoner within.
“James.” Callum’s hands curl into fists. “I hope you’re not here to spill blood on this holy night.” His tone is dark, and he sounds as if the opposite is true, as if he longs for James to give him an excuse to expel the violence inside him.
James smiles, though it doesn’t meet his eyes. “As king, it’s my duty to uphold wolf law, not break it.” He rolls up his shirtsleeves, exposing corded forearms—one of them inked with tattoos. “Though, if you were in breach of Ghealach’s rules, Brother, then I would be forced to take action—regardless of what night it was.” His gaze moves to me, and I force myself to hold it. “You have something that belongs to me. Give her to me, and no blood will be spilt.”
Callum’s answering growl rumbles around the circle. “Rory does not belong to you.”
My breathing is fast. My mouth is dry. I can’t belong to another man, yet I can’t figure out how we are going to escape this situation. Perhaps I should have let Callum bite me, yet I have a feeling James would have found an excuse to take me anyway.
“I bit her and she survived,” says James. “Wolf law dictates that she is mine. She bears my mark. Unless you can say the same, you have no claim. Give her to me, or blood will be spilt.” His men raise their muskets. “Do the Wolves gathered here today really want to die for the sake of a cunt-struck alpha and the daughter of their enemy king?”
A few of Lochlan’s clan exchange whispers. I stiffen when the Wolf King turns his attention to me.
“Do you want to cause another war, Aurora?” asks James. “Do you want countless Wolves to die? Is that why you came to the Northlands? To stir up trouble between my brother and me on behalf of your father?”
Another murmur fills the whisky-scented air. I wonder if we have underestimated James. He has come here to turn Lochlan’s clan against Callum and me, to make them reconsider joining his ranks.
“You were the one who caused a war between us, Brother,” snarls Callum, “when you brutally attacked the woman I love.”
I breathe in sharply as the word love rattles around inside my chest. He has never said that to me before. I don’t have time to process it. The small child, Alfie, trembles as he hides behind Arran’s big bulk, and a decision builds inside me. We are outmatched. We have no weapons, and if Callum spills blood, his claim to the throne will be ruined due to the breach of wolf law. I don’t want to go with James, but I won’t let these people die for me.