Page 27 of Wolf Duke

Alaric leaned back slightly, his gaze intent. “Are you nervous about the ceremonies?”

“Not nervous exactly,” said Evaine slowly, her heart twinging. “Of course I don’t want to make a mistake with everyone watching, trip over my gown train or jumble my words. But it’s more…I’m just sad there are no other de Wynters here. My sire should read from the Book of Lore and take our thumbprints and combined blood drop to recognize the royal union. My mother should plait my hair and tell me all the jaw-dropping details about…well, you know. Biting and knotting. Breeding heat. Pregnancy. And my s-sisters would have challenged you to a swordfight. We’d share spiced ale and exchange gifts. You and my brother would go hunting for the ceremonial stag h-heart…”

Tears burned her eyes and she hastily blinked them back lest Alaric think she was upset about today. It was exciting to finally be joining with her mate and to take her place beside him on the Western throne. It was just…she missed her mother and father and sisters and brother so very much. And on the most formal occasion possible for royal wolves, the absence of anyone from the de Wynter pack would be somberly noted. She didn’t want somber. She wanted joyful.

“Evie…” said Alaric as he stroked her back and smoothed her heavy robe. “I swear that we’ll find Isabel and Cecily and Lucan. They will forever have sanctuary here until Lucan can reclaim the Book of Lore and his throne. I know that Darius and Ranulf pledge the same. If your sisters and brother can make it to a royal castle, they’ll be safe. And, just like Apollo and Artemis mercilessly avenged all offenses against our Blessed Leto, we shall brutally punish those who murdered your mother and father and enslaved the de Wynter pack.”

Evaine growled. “The hatred I feel for Guy Saville knows no bounds. He will pay. One day.”

They sat in companionable silence for another quarter hour or so, then Alaric glanced out the small window. “More wolves are waking. I fear we must return to our chambers and pretend we weren’t rolling about on hay bales. Mother will be disappointed we ignored her practical advice,” he finished, smiling ruefully as he brushed straw from her sleeve.

“I wonder if that particular detail will make it to Henry in London,” Evaine replied tartly as she reluctantly stood. “He heard about us before the ink was even dry.”

Alaric went still. “That is exactly what continues to bother me, how swiftly those Hera-spawned Oxfords arrived to scold us for offending their king. How did Henry even find out? No human would know of our plans, or the preparation here. It’s too remote.”

Her stomach sank at the implications. “Surely a wolf wouldn’t dare interfere. Do you think…a pack member or servant wants to stop this ceremony? Perhaps collect the bounty on my head? I know the amount is very large.”

He shook his head firmly. “I would hope to the depths of my soul the answer is no. Gold wouldn’t be an inducement to anyone at Blackstone Castle. But even with hundreds and hundreds of guests, I have armed guards everywhere. Save my brother kings and their personal attendants, no one is permitted to carry weapons within these walls. Blackstone is your home, Evie. Your sanctuary. By this afternoon, you’ll be crowned queen. By tonight…my bonded link mate. Mine in every way.”

Evaine shivered at the hot promise in his gaze. Indeed, while Alaric’s tongue and fingers were truly magical, she yearned to be joined with him completely, his cock lodged deep inside her, flooding her with seed as he bit her mating mark and unlocked their mind link. “And you’ll be mine in every way.”

“I will. Now, let us go before the castle runs mad. I’m sure Oliver and Larkin will have lists a mile long.”

After pulling their warm cloaks around them, Evaine and Alaric left the stables and crossed the courtyard to the castle. One lingering kiss later, they each returned to their own chamber.

When Evaine pushed open the door to her room, the last time she would ever use it, Siân was waiting for her. The fire had been stoked, several candelabra were lit, and fresh water was heating in a wrought-iron bucket.

The queen’s lips twitched. “Straw? Really, my dear? Have I taught you nothing?”

Evaine poked out her tongue as she batted the stray evidence from her sleeve. “I’ve no idea what you speak of, Mother.”

They both froze.

“Beg pardon,” said Evaine swiftly. “I’m not sure why I said that.”

The queen hesitated, her fingers twisting together. “I would never seek to replace Magdalena. I know you loved her beyond measure, may Leto bless her star-soul. But should you wish a mother figure…someone to ask certain questions of, or tweak Alaric’s nose if he is being a right royal arse…I am here.”

A giggle bubbled in her chest. “Was King Cyrus ever a right royal arse?”

“He had his moments,” said Siân fondly, her gaze faraway. “Especially when he overindulged in wine and snored like a thunderstorm. Or grumbled about wolflings being too loud. Or the time he tried to help by changing the den I made before I birthed Alaric.”

“Oh dear.”

“But none of that ever compared to my worst trial: his mother, Ana-Maria. She was an Ilustrisima Senora, overbearing, rude, and quarrelsome, and never missed a chance to tell me I wasn’t nearly good enough for her son and his blue Spanish blood. I swore there and then, if I was blessed with a male cub, I would never behave like that. I wanted to be a friend to my new daughter, not an enemy. I won’t tell you how to be queen, Evaine, or insist anything remain my preference, for this will be your castle. But should you seek my counsel or experience, I shall offer it gladly.”

“Did you like Theda?” asked Evaine, the words rushing out before she could haul them back in.

The queen’s eyes widened briefly, then she shook her head. “No. I was in seclusion, so I missed a lot. But when I met her, I knew in my bones she wasn’t my son’s mate. Theda treated Alaric horribly. She accepted the crown but shunned him. Rejected his touch. They never shared a chamber and rarely shared a bed, even in rutting season. I never thought I would say this about a queen, but no one was saddened at her death. The only comment I kept hearing was regret that Alaric would never sire an heir.”

Evaine exhaled slowly. Alaric had spoken freely of Theda, but it was reassuring to hear the same message from another source, to know what felt right was right. She and Alaric were fated mates and Blackstone Castle was exactly where she was meant to be. As queen. “I did have other questions,” she said awkwardly. “Those I might ask a mother…”

Siân grinned, so much like her son it was uncanny, and beckoned her over to sit on the fireside cushions. “A she-wolf’s first biting and knotting experience is almost impossible to describe. Pleasure and pain intertwine like a rope. I wasn’t sure I could bear it, but kept demanding more, more, more. The release is like a storm wave and a starburst and I screamed myself hoarse. As for your first breeding heat…your body offers clues it is coming, because the day before, you’ll feel terrible. Headache, sore limbs, fever, sweats. There’ll be tears and snarls and you’ll want to hurl your mate off the ramparts. Then the next day…Goddess. The need to rut, all the time, will consume you for an entire week. Eat, drink, rut, sleep a little, then start again. That’s all. And do not fret, everyone understands.”

Her cheeks burning, Evaine nearly rocked on the cushion at the frankness, but she greatly appreciated not having to coax or drag the information out. While she was certain Alaric would teach her everything, it was lovely to not go in completely unaware. “And, uh…what about cubs? I mean, do you know if you conceive?”

“Oh, you’ll know,” said Siân with a laugh. “Not long after unknotting, you abruptly change into wolf-form, and stay like that until you deliver. Which is such a blessing. Wolves carry for two months, humans carry for nine. Ugh. Imagine that! Now, do you have any other questions, or shall I call for Blanche and my ladies to assist you? The mating ceremony is scheduled for mid-morning, and we need to brush your fur and scrub your claws. After I’ve removed that straw, hmmm?”

All Evaine could do was grin. “Yes, Mother.”