Page 13 of Wolf Duke

Alaric took several deep breaths, relieved to have a completely logical reason for his unsettled temperament. Of course he would be on edge! Bloody Henry had foisted a dukedom upon him, collected a pile of gold for the “gift”, and made him a future target for both wolf and human. Besides, it was deep winter. All wolves ran a little mad in winter, especially with breeding season approaching. While only some mated females went into a week-long breeding heat, it affected the whole castle as everyone absorbed the insatiable need in the air. Between January and March, Alaric readily forgave the antics of mated pairs in his pack; the constant, frenzied rutting, the need for copious food and drink, the way even his most sensible, decorous male courtiers sported foolish grins and stumble-walked because their cocks hurt from overuse. They truly couldn’t help themselves.

Indeed, these strange feelings weren’t his own, but excitement and anticipation from the mated wolves around him. While they unleashed their desires, he needed to behave like a king, cool and calm and composed.

“Are you content with the fit, my king?” asked Wesley as he stepped back. “I can fetch the tailor if need be.”

Alaric peered hard at the looking glass, examining all angles and checking every seam, button, and fastening. However, he found no flaw with his white linen shirt, black woolen hose, the embroidered cream doublet, or the gold circlet he usually wore atop his head. Even his hair sat neatly on his shoulders for once, and his calf-length leather boots were polished to a shine. He looked like a king.

Perhaps now he was back at Blackstone surrounded by his own pack rather than humans, he would feel like a king again and be able to provide the generous hospitality that Princess Evaine rightly expected.

“No, you’ve done well,” Alaric said gruffly.

Wesley beamed. “We must have you looking just so for the princess!”

Alaric’s head jerked around. “Beg pardon?”

His squire gulped. “Er…well, any king must appear to best advantage when entertaining another royal, yes?”

“Yes,” agreed Alaric reluctantly, inwardly frowning at his own sharp reaction. He was an experienced diplomat, not a hot-headed fool. “Come, we must escort the ladies into the Great Hall.”

Soon, he and Wesley waited outside the double doors for the elder queen and Princess Evaine. When the two women descended the stairs, Alaric’s breath caught at the glorious sight of his guest, who wore an emerald-green gown with a gold underskirt and gold sleeves. Evaine’s blond hair was confined in a long plait that bounced gently against her back, and the square bodice of her gown framed a heavy gold necklace set with diamonds, a piece from the Beaumont vault.

My jewels. Right where they belong.

His mother approached and curtsied deeply, elegant as always in a gown of rich amethyst studded with pearls over a silver underskirt, her dark hair plaited and coiled at her neck, and covered with a sheer veil. “My son and king. Doesn’t Evaine look beautiful? I had my ladies adjust a gown, and thought something from the vault would set it off nicely.”

Alaric nodded brusquely as Evaine curtsied and her gown bodice strained against the curves of her breasts. “Indeed, Lady Mother. Shall we proceed into the banquet?”

“Yes!” Siân replied, smiling. “Wesley, dear boy, would you escort your queen to the dais?”

“Be my great honor,” said Wesley, his cheeks flushed red as he offered his arm.

Annoyed at how easily his mother had out-maneuvered him, Alaric reluctantly held out his own arm. “Princess?”

“Thank you,” Evaine said softly, curling her hand around it.

Even through a few layers of clothing, he felt her touch like a brand.

Alaric cursed under his breath as his cock began throbbing.

Calm. Cool. Composed. Remember, none of these feelings are real.

He gestured to the guards, who bowed and opened the doors to the Great Hall. A loud trumpet fanfare from the gallery soared to the high-beamed roof, then the massive crowd parted to allow the four of them a clear path to the raised dais at the north end of the hall. All eyes were upon them, yet most seemed to be gazing at Evaine with fond smiles, as happy as he’d been to know a de Wynter heir was alive and the murderer Guy Saville hadn’t won a total victory.

Yet before he could seat Evaine at the far end of the table, his mother took the chair, smiling sweetly as she did so. Now only two places remained, his chair in the middle, and the chair to his left…where the queen always sat.

“Princess,” Alaric said curtly as he pulled the left chair out for her, now acutely aware that the collective pack gaze had turned first shocked then speculative. Queen Siân had held that seat for over one hundred and eighty years, first as queen, then as elder queen—only Theda had temporarily displaced her. For her to concede it once again so publicly and cheerfully…

He turned and glared at his mother. “We shall speak later.”

“As you wish,” she replied, inclining her head, utterly unrepentant.

Alaric clenched his jaw, but turned to his pack and began a brief speech, informing them of Henry’s dukedom gift—which caused prolonged and very loud outrage in the hall—and that Princess Evaine would remain as an honored guest at Blackstone indefinitely, but for her protection, and that of the pack, the news must remain within the castle walls for now.

Once he’d finished, Alaric rang a gold bell and the hall became a hive of activity as servants rushed to set up trestle tables and long wooden benches for everyone attending the feast. All those on guard duty, or with important tasks away from the Great Hall, had already received their supper; no one under Beaumont protection ever went hungry, not here in the castle, nor anywhere on his lands.

About a quarter hour later, two large spun sugar sculptures were carried out, one of the Beaumont coat of arms, and another of the de Wynters…which were then placed side by side in front of him on the high table.

Alaric groaned inwardly. Was every bloody soul he knew matching him with Evaine? This was far beyond the realm of mere courtesy.