The Night Prince (The Wolf King, #2)(38)

I push my negative thoughts aside. There are more pressing things to worry about. Such as why she’s here when her allegiance probably stands with James. I feel a slight twinge of irritation, too. I can’t help but wonder when Callum tried to bed her.

Was it while she was with James? If so, it could explain why James was easily persuaded to ask for my hand in marriage. I think Callum has more honor than that, yet I wonder whether some of the contempt the two brothers hold for one another could originate from the female who halts before the table. Am I the second woman the two have fought over?

“Claire.” Callum’s tone is gentle yet wary. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I hear you made alpha. Congratulations.”

My eyebrows raise. I didn’t think there were any female alphas.

Claire inclines her head. “And I hear you’re trying to become king.”

Callum eyes her warily, like he hasn’t figured out whether she’s a threat. “Did James send you?”

“James has no authority to send me anywhere. He’s not my king.” She smiles, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I was on my way to Madadh-allaidh to see if I could negotiate an alliance with him.”

Callum’s brow creases. “An alliance? Your clan has always stood alone. Why now?”

“There are. . . things happening up north.” A shadow passes over her features. “I want to move my people south.”

Callum frowns. “Yet you came here first?”

She shrugs, her smile coy. “I thought I’d listen to what you had to say.”

“How do I know you’re not here to report back to James?”

“I don’t play games, Callum.”

“No?” Callum releases a dark laugh. “I’m not sure that’s true.”

Her brown eyes glint in the candlelight. “That was a long time ago.”

Claire looks guarded when her attention turns to the dark-haired alpha of Lowfell.

Dimples puncture Blake’s cheeks, but his eyes are cold. “Welcome to Lowfell. Please, come and join us.”

Her gaze falls on me. She looks like she’s assessing me, measuring me up, and I do the same. Finally, a smile ghosts her lips.

“It’s nice to see another woman up here. Even if you are a southerner.” She turns to Callum. “We need to speak. Alone.”

He inclines his head. “Aye. Later.”

She sits down beside Jack, who grins and starts a conversation with her. Callum drops into his chair and the music resumes. He squeezes my thigh underneath the table, as if he can see the questions in my eyes.

“Later,” he repeats softly.

When the food has been cleared, the bagpipe music becomes louder and more unruly, and Wolves dance raucously in the center of the hall. Their violent movements as they spin one another around mirrors the storm brewing in my chest when Callum and Claire leave the Great Hall to speak in private.

I want my blood to stop howling, and my mind to still. I wonder whether the wolf that must exist inside me is making me feel like this. I don’t like that they’re alone together. The human part of me is just as unsettled, unhappy to be pushed aside once more while important matters are being discussed.

I swallow my emotion. I need to pull myself together. Callum needs to find out what Claire is doing here.

“Would you like to dance?” A male Northlands voice makes me start.

Lochlan stands in front of the table, elegant hand outstretched. His eyes dance with amusement. I’m not entirely sure what to make of him. Partially because he seems to like Blake more than Callum.

I rise from my chair. “Of course. Though you’ll have to teach me the moves.”

“Your people didn’t teach you the dances of Wolves?” Lochlan says, and I feel the slight challenge coming from him, the assertion that I don’t belong.

“There are many things my people don’t know about Wolves,” I admit carefully as I walk around the table to join him. “We’re at war, after all. But I’ve learned much, since I arrived here.”

“We’re not at war with your people,” says Lochlan, when I place my hand in his. I frown as he leads me to the dancefloor. “We were once, of course. Many centuries ago, when they invaded Glas-Cladach in their longboats and ravaged our villages. When peace was sought, many of them settled and live among us now.” He grins wolfishly at my perplexity. “Oh, you think I’m speaking of the southerners. No. I’m referring to your real people—the Wolves of the Snowlands.” My heart beats faster at the mention of my mother’s homeland. “Many of my clan were sad to hear of your mother’s death.”

The Wolves around me blur as they create two lines that face one another, and get ready for the next dance. “They knew of her?”

“The youth forget the Snowlands blood that runs through their veins. The elders prayed for her safety when she married your father.”

The chatter, the clink of glasses, the crackle in the hearth—it all fades. “She really was a wolf?”

“Not many knew her true identity, of course, even here in the Northlands. We at Glas-Cladach suspected. Many hoped she would overthrow your father someday, and bring about a new era for Wolves. Alas, that was not the case.” He assesses me. “Although perhaps hope is not lost yet.”