Page 105 of The Ashpaw: Part One

And from the overwhelming hunger for more than just food.

It wasn’t long until the Solvekh returned, a gown in her hands.

“Here you are, my Lady. No need to fret. This will do for the evening.”

It was a dark russet color, something that would complement her complexion, muted as it was. When she took off the tunic to change, the woman held her hands out expectantly to take it from her, but Fern pulled it back to her chest.

“No, no, I’d… I’d like to keep this.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? A man’s tunic?”

Fern looked at it for a moment, Reinn’s scent still clinging to the threads. “Aye, if you don’t mind.”

She shrugged, and Fern tucked it under the covers of her bed before getting dressed.

The gown was big on her—a little too long and hanging loosely off her shoulders, but it was finely made of thick wool, with gold stitching along the seams.

And smelled faintly of Kyntha.

“Where did you get this?” Fern asked.

The Solvekh guided her to the chair in front of the mirror, where she proceeded to comb out her hair, pulling through tangles much rougher than Reinn had.

“Alpha Darion procured it for me, and I did not think to ask of its origin.”

Fern gave a small sigh. “Fair enough. What is your name?”

“Adela, my Lady.”

“Please,” Fern said, wincing when Adela yanked through a particularly stubborn knot. “Just call me Fern.”

Adela paused, thinking through her words, and then replied. “But you are a lady. A Lurvekh now, and a Naravekh to Alpha Darion.”

“And two days ago I was the Ashpaw. I know better than anybody how quickly your role in this clan can change, and I’d rather not get too comfortable in any of them.”

Fern looked at Adela in the mirror, the woman’s gaze down. “A lady only outside of this room, then. If I don’t use your title in front of the alphas, I may very well become the next Ashpaw myself.”

Fern watched her work as she began to braid a few strands of her hair. “So when were you made?”

“Many years ago,” Adela replied. Fern looked more closely at her face, at the fine lines around her mouth and the corner of her eyes that were just barely visible, and guessed she was perhaps fifteen years her elder. “Bound by Alpha Norden. I served as a nursemaid for his infant son after the mother died in childbirth. Once he was weaned, I was sent here.”

Fern searched for a hint of sadness in the woman’s expression, found none, and asked the question anyway. “And what of your own child?”

Adela gave her a small smile. “Born sleeping, I’m afraid. I buried her on the full moon, needing it done, and he smelled the milk on me.”

There was a knock at the door, and she quickly finished the last braid. “That’ll be one of the alphas to escort you to dinner, then. Best not make him wait.”

Fern hopped out of her chair and saw too late that she didn’t have shoes. But the dress covered her feet anyway, so she didn’t think it was worth fussing about.

Karn waited outside the door, and her shoulders fell for just a moment. She’d hoped—foolishly—that it would be Darion. But he’d told her he would only escort Kyntha, hadn’t he?

Karn was still a nice consolation prize, though.

“My, my, don’t you look lovely this evening.”

Adela had done the best she could, but “lovely” was certainly overselling it. “Thank you, Alpha Karn.”

He held out his arm, and she took it as they walked down the hall.