The Night Prince (The Wolf King, #2)(70)

“The lass is fine. I’m sure she’s on the warpath, currently, but she’s unharmed. I made sure she was fed. Callum freed her as soon as he arrived. He was in an awful mood. You might be able to settle him.” She shakes her head. “Two brothers, fighting over what their father worked so hard to achieve. . . It’s a shame, though matters of the heart are rarely simple.”

She looks Blake up and down and clucks her tongue. “As for you, I see you’ve been getting yourself into trouble again.” She licks her thumb, leans forward and wipes a smudge of blood from his cheek. He stiffens slightly, but makes no remark. “You’re needed in the infirmary. Callum’s waiting for you.”

My heart plummets. “Is he hurt?”

“He’s seen better days, but he’s fine. It’s the prisoner that needs attention.”

Kai. The prisoner Lochlan and Callum freed. Who Blake thinks was sent to us as part of a trap by Alexander.

Blake’s jaw locks, but he nods.

“Come find me when you’ve seen to him,” she says. “I’ll make you that soup you like.”

She bustles through a group of Wolves in blue tartan, and heads after Kayleigh. Blake wipes his face on his sleeve, but he doesn’t say anything about Mrs. McDonald touching him. I’ve never seen anyone be so familiar with him.

I fall into step beside him as he walks through a group of Wolves to the castle doors.

“That makes sense, I suppose,” I say under my breath, horribly aware that the courtyard is unnaturally quiet. “The two most fearsome Wolves in Madadh-allaidh would be friends with one another.”

“Mrs. McDonald, and Kayleigh are both from Lowfell,” says Blake, as we head into the castle. “They have differing opinions on what I did to the majority of their clan.” He smirks. “I think Mrs. McDonald was quite pleased to be rid of her husband.”

Disgust swells inside me, as I’m reminded that he’s a killer. “You’re abhorrent.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s not a compliment.” We walk through the entrance hall—adorned with banners, and tapestries and a wolf head mounted on the balcony level above. The doors shut behind us, and loud and restless conversation breaks out.

When we reach the infirmary, the fire in the hearth lights up the workbenches and medical supplies. Shelves line the walls, stocked with vials and jars. There are three cots in here, and there are patients in all of them.

Two men stand over one. Lochlan grips the shoulders of the man who lies there. He mutters under his breath. Beside him, Callum stands in front of the fireplace. I forget how to breathe.

He looks as formidable, as impenetrable, as the night we met. His shirt strains against hard muscle, and is stained with blood. There’s bruising around his strong jawline, and his nose is swollen.

His expression is unreadable. His attention momentarily flickers to Blake, then me. His jaw locks. He looks at his enemies like this.

Do as he says.

My heart begins to race in my chest. I lift my chin, and hold his steely gaze.

He’s jealous. No matter that he was the one who told Blake to kiss me. No matter that he could have challenged his brother before it got to that point. No matter that I was the one who was kidnapped, and forced to do something I didn’t want to do.

I should be running into his arms. I should be asking if he is okay. He must have killed his brother, and—no matter how much I may dislike James—Callum must feel something about that.

My feet are rooted to the spot.

Lochlan picks up on the tension. Silence shrouds the room, punctuated only by the crackle of the hearth and Kai’s raspy breaths. It feels like miles stretch between Callum and me, like we’re royalty from two enemy kingdoms, like the past weeks spent in each other’s arms never happened.

“Callum?” I say.





Chapter Thirty-Four





The fire in the infirmary blazes behind Callum and casts his face in shadow. He opens his mouth as if to speak. Blake stiffens behind me.

I’m attacked. Long dark hair distorts my vision as arms wrap around me and a chest bumps against my side. The scent of horses floods my lungs. I’m squeezed until I can’t breathe.

“You’re still shite at giving hugs.” Fiona pulls back and turns me to face her with a smile on her face. I’d expected her to appear drawn and tired. She looks surprisingly healthy. Her dark hair hangs loose and is a little wild, but her cheeks are rosy, and her brown eyes are bright.

A soft laugh escapes my lips. “Fiona! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. No thanks to James. I’ve been cooped up in my chambers for weeks. He didn’t have the balls to lock me up in the dungeons, the bastard.” She assesses me, and her expression darkens. “I heard what he did to you.” She shakes her head, then frowns. “Why is it so tense in here?”

Callum blinks. Once. Twice. His expression softens and he clears his throat. “Rory. Are you okay?”

I release some of the emotion that bubbles inside me on a shaky breath. “I’m not hurt. Are you?”

He smiles, somewhat sadly. “No.”

Fiona’s forehead creases. She looks like she’s going to say something, but Blake walks past me and slaps Lochlan’s hand away from the man’s shoulder. He leans over the wounded wolf, and I follow him, Fiona close beside me.