Page 3 of The Wolf Queen’s Curse

If this werewolf is Beryl’s employee, tasked with tracking us, why would he have helped us in town? Because the world of humans has no idea that supernaturals exist, and we like to keep it that way. Once I’d saved a young sorcerer from exposure when he nearly got caught stealing a necklace. I have no particular antipathy toward sorcerers myself—my aunt having taken one as her longtime lover, Alfred Blackwood—but I didn’t do it to help this young man. I did it because any exposure puts us all at risk.

In gratitude, the young sorcerer had snapped at me to mind my own business and stalked off, never noticing that the necklace was no longer in his pocket.

But I digress.

The fact that this werewolf helped us at the butcher shop makes it more likely he’s sent by my grandmother, who absolutely would not want me exposed as a thief in the village square. I’m no good to her dead or imprisoned.

Bishop and I ride side by side, and I let him lead the way. We’ve seen no sign of someone following us, but that’s more concerning than if we did see the werewolf, because it means he’s tracking us to the rest of the Pack.

“May I ask your plans?” I whisper to Bishop as we ride.

“Not to lead him to the Pack.”

I give him a look. “May I ask the part of your plans that isn’t perfectly obvious?”

A strained smile. “Apologies. I’m distracted.”

“I know, and you don’t need to answer me now. I would have liked to know your plan with the butcher. I trust you, but I also need you to trust me. I wouldn’t have argued for some less violent scheme.” I glance sideways at him. “You do know I’m not a Coven witch, yes?”

His lips twitch. “And more apologies are in order. An Alpha traditionally takes the lead, and his wolves follow, trusting in his plan.” He lifts a hand against argument. “I know, you’re my mate, not my wolf. But while it may seem very autocratic not to share plans with one’s Pack, it’s what they prefer.”

I nod slowly. “If you tell them your plan, it sounds as if you’re uncertain of it. Acting decisively inspires confidence.”

“Yes, and you can point out that I’ve been Alpha for less than a day, but I’ve been leading missions for years. I’ve become accustomed to not explaining myself. I do take your point, though. As for my plan right now, I’m still thinking it through. The problem is that I have no idea what I’m facing.”

“A werewolf tracker who is almost certainly supported by a group of supernaturals, waiting for his signal.”

He sighs. “All right. Apparently, I should be discussing it with you. The question is…”

“Can we stop him before he signals his confederates? Stop him and question him.”

He slants a look my way. “Are you quite certain you haven’t led missions yourself?”

“I’m a witch. Seeing and handling threats is second nature. As for this wolf, even if I could convince you to let us separate—stop making that face—we don’t know which of us he’d follow.” I steer my horse past some brush. “If we thought they’d take me and leave you alone—”

“No.”

“We need to consider that, Bishop.”

“I don’t believe we do.”

I glower at him, and he glowers back.

“We do,” I say firmly. “If I could turn myself over to Beryl, on the condition she left the Pack—”

“You tried that yesterday. Against my wishes, I might add. But you were very clear that you would go with your grandmother if she’d release us. She refused.”

“I’m not enough.”

His voice softens, and he rides close enough to touch my knee. “Only because she doesn’t know you. Otherwise, she’d realize she made a very foolish mistake by not taking you up on your offer.”

I smile at him. “I don’t need reassurance, Bishop. I only wish she’d accepted the deal. She won’t because it’s just that—a deal, a negotiation. To accept it implies I have power. I might be her granddaughter, and she might be offering a warm welcome, but she really just wants to break me. Shatter me and reshape me into what she wants.”

“Then she is a fool.”

“May I ask something of you?”

“Of course.”