Page 16 of The Ashpaw: Part One

Wolfkin, however, cared little for such conventions and were far more open about their desires. Desires that still lingered and burned beneath her skin, despite her best efforts to suppress her wolfish instincts. And so when those desires had become too difficult to ignore, she had occasionally sought out the company of men she trusted to be both willing and discreet.

From the way these women spoke, it sounded as though she might not need to be nearly so cautious here.

One thing to look forward to, she supposed.

“Are the Ironcoats particularly attractive?” Fern asked.

“I haven’t a clue,” Tegen replied with a shrug. “But new faces mean new chances.”

Annik tugged at Tegen’s sleeves. “Speaking of, we’d better hurry. We still need to wash before the feast tonight. It was a pleasure to meet you, Fern.”

“Likewise,” she replied, and then she looked down again at the blanket that had caught her attention earlier. “Oh, sorry, before you go—should I put this away?”

The women’s expressions changed so abruptly Fern took an involuntary step back.

Vedia crossed the distance between them in two quick strides and snatched Fern’s reach before she could pick it up.

“Don’t touch that.”

Fern blinked. “Why?”

The three women exchanged glances. “You truly don’t know?” Tegen asked.

Fern shook her head.

Annik exhaled sharply through her nose. “Gods, they really dropped you in blind.” She pulled her toward the bathing room. “Come on. Better you hear it from us before you embarrass yourself upstairs.”

Fern followed them inside, turning a bucket upside down for a seat. The others quickly undressed, shivering and bracing themselves as they dipped into the cold water.

“So what was wrong with the blanket?” Fern asked, eyeing their large marks. The alphas who had made them had left silvery, half-moon scars deep in the space between their necks and shoulders.

It seemed silly, but Fern stared at her own finger, wondering why Alpha Darion had chosen such a small, inconspicuous spot for her.

“It belongs to the Ashpaw,” Tegen explained, teeth chattering as she lathered what she could from the soap before passing it to Vedia.

“Who’s the Ashpaw?”

They shared a look before Annik said, “The Ashpaw is not a ‘who’ so much as a ‘what’—a failed wolf.”

She flinched at just the words, as though they too had nipped her somewhere. “Failed how?”

Annik scrubbed under her arms as she thought. “The strength and integrity of the clan is everything to wolfkin, and everyone is expected to contribute.”

“The alphas lead, the betas follow, and the Solvekh…”

“Do all the rest,” Vedia chimed in, and the women laughed. But Fern found no humor in it, her cheeks paling.

Maybe for these women, this kind of life was an improvement over what they’d had as humans. At the castle, a roof over their heads and food on their tables were already provided in exchange for their labor, with no worry about securing it themselves in hard times.

But at least on her own, Fern could make a schedule to include free time. Could indulge every once in a while without needing permission. Could speak her mind without fear of punishment.

Could decorate her own room.

Darion had told her that if she found her place, she’d be happy, but she couldn’t ignore the niggling feeling in the back of her mind that this was all awful.

“Are we not betas, too?” Fern asked, changing the subject.

“No, Solvekh are still too human,” Vedia replied. “If you have wolfkin in your ancestry somewhere, a designation can appear during a shift—that happened to a Solvekh last year. He’d been just another field hand when, under the full moon, he became… more. Now he sits with the Lurvekh.”