Page 28 of Wolf Duke

“It’s time! It’s time! It’s actually time for your mating ceremony. Well, your real mating ceremony. With your real mate.”

Alaric raised an eyebrow as Wesley darted about the bedchamber as though his hose was aflame. His squire had been ready for hours, his boots polished, his hair actually combed, preening in his new gold and black livery. The eagerness was almost endearing.

“Yes,” Alaric replied simply. “A half hour and we’ll be standing in front of Leto’s shrine.”

Wesley halted in front of Alaric's looking glass and bowed. “My queen. My queen. All hail Queen Evaine of the Western Lands, long may she reign…oh, this is wonderful. A queen means lots of beautiful females will visit…one day she might have cubs! Do not fret, my king, I will ensure your young know all the important skills such as…coaxing more pork slices from Cook. How to stalk a squirrel. And remove a splinter from their thumb with an embroidery needle. Mother taught me that.”

Alaric blinked. The way Wesley’s mind bounced from one topic to the next was enough to give anyone a severe headache, but today, nothing could change his mood. It was a momentous and glorious occasion indeed. “I am glad to know they’ll have such a dedicated tutor.”

His squire halted. “Wait. Cubs must be created first. My king, do you know what to do? I can fetch Father, he sired two litters so I presume he has some knowledge. Then again, perhaps Mother just gave him a list of instructions. Father adores lists.”

“I am confident on this matter, yes,” replied Alaric, his lips twitching. Wolflings were such a curious mix of mature wolf and cub, and it continued to fascinate him how they swayed between the two.

Wesley sighed, actually looking relieved. “Excellent. Is there anything else you need? I will examine all your garments again before the main ceremony, to ensure they are perfect. But that crown is so heavy, I don’t even know how you keep it on your head.”

Alaric nodded solemnly. In truth, he wondered himself. He usually wore a plain circlet crown and a doublet badge made of gold and jet. But for formal ceremonies, the Western Crown was hauled out of the heavily-guarded Treasury. It had been fashioned centuries ago to resemble Blackstone Castle, with four points that rose several inches above the base of satin-lined, solid Beaumont gold, affixed with pearls and amethysts. One pigeon egg-sized diamond, surrounded by smaller diamonds, decorated the front. The damned thing was wretchedly heavy. Fortunately, he only had to wear it for Evaine’s official crowning; during the first ceremony at Leto’s shrine both he and Evaine would be in wolf form. This was the private, very personal part of the day, only attended by Darius and Ranulf as witnesses, his mother, and Wesley, for it was protocol for a king’s squire to attend all formal events.

Once again, his heart clenched for Evaine. The King and Queen of the Eastern Lands should be here to witness their eldest cub’s mating ceremony, not star-risen. Isabel, Cecily and Lucan should be challenging him to prove he was strong and brave and clever enough for their sister—not in hiding, perhaps sick or injured, terrified for their lives.

“Did a search party go out, as normal?” Alaric asked abruptly.

Wesley frowned. “I’m not sure. Perhaps they thought not, due to the ceremonies?”

“Run and tell your sire to dispatch a group. The crowning ceremony won’t begin until they return. Perhaps one of the princesses might flee here, hidden among the guests.”

His squire brightened. “Concealed in a cart, even! Or if not today, while you are out on progress. When I look out my window to the stars, I often ask Leto to restore Princess Evaine’s sisters to her, and her brother to the Eastern throne.”

“You and me both,” said Alaric gruffly, briefly patting Wesley’s shoulder. His squire beamed, then dashed away to find his father.

After discarding his heavy brocade robe, Alaric closed his eyes and changed into wolf form. Even now it took a moment to adjust to the change in height and shape, but when he ran his tongue-tip over his fangs, pure lust jolted through him. This night they would have a task far more important than hunting: sinking into Evaine’s mating mark, fusing her to him as he knotted inside her and unlocked their bonded mind link.

Anticipation burned brighter than fire, although if he were brutally honest, nerves fluttered in his stomach. What would it feel like to be fully bonded? To speak to each other without talking? To know Evaine’s thoughts, and have her know his? For a diplomat, it was actually disconcerting. His mate would know if he dissembled, told a partial truth, or attempted to hide his emotions. Evaine would know everything. He would be utterly vulnerable to her and she would be utterly vulnerable to him.

Alaric huffed out a breath, then indulged in a full-body stretch, his claws digging into the rug as he rolled his shoulders and arched his back. Goddess, that always felt good. Next, he padded over to the looking glass to inspect his fur, his tail, even his ears. Never had cleanliness been so important.

“You’re in fine form, my king. I swear,” said Wesley, as he bounded back into the room. “And a search party will scour the area. There were countless offers; so many wolves want to be the one who escorts a missing de Wynter princess into the castle as a gift to you and the new queen. The guards nearly fought each other. But can we go to the shrine now? I’m ready to present the offerings!”

He almost sighed; Wesley had made no secret of his role in the private ceremony. “Yes, we’ll go to the shrine now. Be humble, lest someone accidentally bloodies your nose.”

Wesley sketched a solemn bow, but nothing could extinguish his jaunty pride as he smoothed his livery then led Alaric out of the royal bedchamber. “Make way! Make way for King Alaric! He travels to Leto’s shrine to be mated!”

Alaric almost rolled his eyes. And yet how different the ceremony procession felt this time! Going to Theda, there had been no sense of urgency. No excitement. Today, Alaric had to force himself to move slowly down the hallway. To not leap downstairs, but regally acknowledge all the cheering servants and guests who had formed lines to toss sprigs of herbs as a wish for good fortune and fertility. Evaine would receive the same as she was led by his mother.

But why was it taking a thousand years to reach Leto’s ground-floor shrine? Damn it, when had his castle grown to twice its size?

Alaric growled under his breath, but at last he stood outside the sacred chamber. The double doors were wide open, the stone floor strewn with flowers, herbs, and gold coins. The arched entrance was draped in satin; green and white for de Wynter, and black and gold for Beaumont, and a beautifully embroidered tapestry depicting their crests hung proudly on the wall. His mother had been busy. Inside the chamber, Darius and Ranulf waited next to Rowan, the longtime soothsayer of Blackstone Castle.

“My son and king,” called Siân as she approached from the opposite direction, wearing the traditional plain white linen gown of female attendants. “With a glad heart and a merry step I present Evaine de Wynter, blooded princess of the Eastern Lands and your one true fated mate.”

“Come to me, Princess Evaine,” intoned Alaric. “Let us give thanks to the revered Goddess for her many blessings.”

His breath caught as the small crowd parted and Evaine strolled through, her sleek, elegantly deadly form padding soundlessly across the floor. How could he be so fortunate to have this glorious, passionate, saucy she-wolf for a mate?

“I am yours, King Alaric,” said Evaine, her green eyes glowing. “Lead me unto Leto.”

As they approached the gleaming seven-foot-high marble statue of Leto with the twin flames representing Apollo and Artemis burning brightly, a familiar sense of peace overcame Alaric. Except now there was a warmth and contentment he’d not thought possible. Last time with Theda everything had seemed off; one of the flames had even extinguished and had to be relit!

But not today. Not with Evaine. This was right.