Page 27 of The Ashpaw: Part One

But before his lips found hers, a guard approached from the head table. “Alpha Darion has ordered this she-wolf to serve the Council in their chamber this evening. Release her.”

Harland growled, refusing to let her go. “Well, isn’t that convenient?”

Fern blinked slowly, trying to find her way through the fog, and turned to look at the head table.

Kyntha was absent tonight, but Darion was still there, eyes locked on the two of them. Hands gripping silverware so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

Harland pulled her close, whispering in her ear, “Worry not. You’ll be mine soon enough.”

And then he pushed her off, straight into the guard, who just barely caught her before she tripped over her skirts.

“Away with her, then!” he said, waving them off. “And allow me to find someone else before the night is over.”

The thought was a cut at first, but relief soon filled the wound as she regained her senses. Better for him to fixate on someone else and leave her be.

But as the guard straightened her up, she realized fully what exactly had saved her from Harland’s bed, and cold fear sluiced through her.

Darion had ordered her to pour drinks for the alphas in their private chamber.

That was normally a job for one of the more experienced Solvekh. Why had he requested her?

He likes us, her wolf chirped.

Fern almost envied her wolf’s optimism and simplicity. But if there was one thing her short time here had already taught her, there was nothing someone like her could ever count on to be simple.

* * *

The Sabletail Clan had five alphas, and after hearing their names spoken many times, she was finally able to match them to faces.

“Bloodmoon scouts crossed the ridge again,” Norden said. He was one of Darion’s uncles.

She eyed the map in the middle of the table, outlining clan lands, forests, and mountains she’d never heard of before.

Humans didn’t bother exploring this side of the river, for those who tried never returned.

“Not only scouts,” Karn corrected. Darion’s other uncle. “But a forward movement. They’re testing the north-west border for weaknesses.”

“Are there?”

That was Head Alpha Alastair, Darion’s father. He looked much like his son, only his face was roughly hewn where Darion’s was smoothed, perhaps by the softness of a comely mother.

“None,” he replied. “Although with the Verdantbites gone, we will want to send reinforcements.”

“Then the Verdantbite defeat is confirmed?” Darion asked.

“Defeated and absorbed,” Eidan replied. He was Darion’s brother. “We found the bodies of those who resisted. There were not many.”

Alastair grunted. “I’m not sure whether that should be a relief or not.” He finished his drink, and Fern came quickly from her spot along the wall, refilling it before he would even notice it was empty.

Her hands shook, both from the weight of the pitcher and nerves. This much power in a room was palpable, a cloak so heavy it wanted her to collapse under the weight of it. Her knees already felt like they might buckle at any moment.

A drop of ale spilled on the table from the lip, and she panicked, trying to find the small rag tucked in the string of her apron, when Alastair’s hand shot out and took her wrist. She held her breath, waiting for some sort of reprimand, but instead he squeezed her gently, his thumb drawing small circles to calm her.

He continued talking, as though he were merely petting a dog by his side, and yet Fern could not deny the effect his touch had on her. It was Protective. Comforting.

She fought the urge to curl on his lap for more.

“When can we expect the Ironcoats to shore up their reserves?” he asked, releasing her finally with one more squeeze.