The Night Prince (The Wolf King, #2)(72)

I exchange a worried smile with Fiona, then head after him, my heart beating fast. Callum’s pace is brisk as he strides through the castle. I half run to keep up with him. We pass armed soldiers wearing Lochlan’s colors stationed in the corridors. Raised voices come from the Great Hall. Tension crackles between us.

I presume Callum is leading us to his old bedchambers so we can talk in private, but he turns in the opposite direction. I walk with him down a long corridor with narrow windows that let in the morning light. He opens a door at the end, and we enter a vast room.

A bed with ornate carved posts, red velvet curtains, and a pile of furs on the quilt dominates the space. There are paintings and weapons mounted all over the walls, and the red tartan banner of Highfell hangs above the bed. It’s cold because there’s no fire in the hearth, and the scent of bracken and steel hangs in the air.

“James’s bedchambers,” I say softly.

Callum swallows. “Aye.”

He scans the room, then strides toward the desk by one of three narrow windows, and swipes something off the surface. His back muscles clench beneath the fabric of his shirt, then he exhales.

“It’s not the Heart of the Moon.” He turns. There’s a round, white stone in his fist—the stone Sebastian gave James in exchange for me. “I was sure it wouldn’t be—he would have used it against me, if it was. Yet I held a small shred of hope.”

“You’re sure?”

“The Heart of the Moon is an ancient relic, torn from the chest of our sacred goddess. I’d feel something if I encountered it, if I touched it. It would awaken my wolf. I’d feel it press against my skin.” He tosses it onto the bed. “I feel nothing from this.”

I offer him a sad smile. “I told you he would not trade it for me.”

“Aye. You did. Foolish man.”

The silence stretches between us. Even across the room, I can smell him—blood and sweat mingles with his mountain scent. He straightens and clenches his jaw, and my mouth dries. The way he’s looking at me. . .

I had almost forgotten how formidable this man, this alpha—no, this king—could look. Even my father would cower before him. He’s obviously angry, upset by what happened with Blake, even though he was the one who let it happen. I’m angry, too. Yet I want his comfort, and I want to comfort him.

He just killed his brother, who—up until recently—he served as second in command. He must have complicated feelings about it.

I take a tentative step forward. “Callum?”

I’m not sure if it’s the uncertainty in my tone, the weakness, but his darkness shatters.

He crosses the space between us, and falls to his knees before me with a heavy thud. He wraps his arms around my waist and presses his forehead against my stomach, and relief bursts through me. He’s still my Callum. His grip is almost too tight, and I want him to hold me tighter. I curl my hands around the back of his head while he mumbles something against my dress in a language I don’t know.

“Ghealach, Princess.” There’s a watery film over his eyes. The blood from his nose adds to Blake’s blood already staining my dress. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I should have been there. I should have gotten to you sooner.”

Do as he says.

I blink. “I thought you were angry with me.”

He drags his teeth over his swollen bottom lip. “I am angry. I’m furious. I’m jealous. I want to rip Blake’s fucking throat out and if you were not. . . connected to him, as you are, I’d have done it already. And I’m relieved. I’m so relieved that I feel like I’m floating out of my body. I’m so fucking happy to see you, to touch you, to know you’re alright.”

Something hardens inside me, and I force myself to look past the unfairness of his wrath. I brush my fingertips along the back of his neck, and he trembles. “How are you feeling about James?” I think about my own brother. I despise him, yet I can’t imagine how it must feel to take his life. “I know that your relationship with him was difficult, but you’re allowed to grieve—”

“He’s not dead.”

I still. “What? I thought you won the challenge?”

His shoulders harden, as if I’ve hit a nerve. “He forfeited. I knocked him out, then took over the fight against the southerners. I planned to deal with him later. He must have gained consciousness and escaped.”

My blood cools. The vision of James’s teeth when he sank them into me flashes behind my eyelids. The roar when I dragged my wolfsbane-dowsed fingers down his cheeks echoes in my ears. “He will come back to challenge you, Callum.”

He squeezes my hip, then pushes himself to his feet. “And I will beat him again. I sent Ryan after him.”

“Ryan?” My tone is incredulous, and a muscle twitches in Callum’s temple.

“Aye. Ryan. He’s like a wee brother to James. I don’t think James will harm him. When I know where he is, I’ll end this for good.” He shakes his head. “It seems like we have bigger problems to deal with right now.”

“Alexander.”

“Aye.”

Another thick silence stretches between us. Awkward. Uncomfortable. Usually, his emotions are easy to read, but his face is blank. Unspoken words hang between us, and I know we need to voice them. Something I’m not used to doing. I clasp my hands together. “Callum—”