Page 41 of The Wolf Queen’s Curse

I nod. “Staying at the nearest hotel would stretch protocol, but sleeping in the station would be a poor start to negotiations, showing you to be a desperate new Alpha, fearful of giving offense.”

“Correct,” Bishop says.

As we walk, the wolves all seem to scan faces, but really they’re mostly sniffing, nostrils discreetly flaring as they search for another werewolf scent.

“Is it possible they’ll leave you tonight just to see what you’ll do?” I ask. “And, yes, feel free to tell me you’re busy and to stop asking questions.”

He smiles slightly my way. “Never. Yes, I suppose that is a possibility. In fact, if it were me, and I was trying to take the measure of the wolf, I might do just that. Not necessarily leave him overnight—that could start negotiations poorly as you said—but wait to see what he does if no one is there to greet him.”

“That may be what’s happening,” Julius says. “Do not look, but to our left, I believe a wolf is watching us. While he’s too far for me to scent him, he has the look of a wolf and he’s definitely tracking our progress.”

“Any impressions?” Bishop asks.

“Too roughly dressed to be one of the sons. Not big enough to be either enforcer. Unlikely to be the controller or advisor. Middling age. Likely middling rank.”

We’d discussed the Caledonian Pack back when Bishop first told me his plan. They’re larger than the Albion Pack had been. In Bishop’s opinion, they’re too large. A small Pack lacks power. A huge one lacks intimacy. Wolves want both—to be part of a strong Pack while enjoying strong bonds.

To Bishop, the Caledonian Pack has passed the tipping point and begun to lose dissatisfied wolves who feel lost in a large Pack with no chance to distinguish themselves. It doesn’t help that Hamish Campbell is in his seventies and isn’t even training an heir, despite having three sons.

All three sons are apparently viable heirs, which makes the lack of a named successor even odder. Bishop fears Hamish is playing them against one another, like Lear with his daughters. At best, Hamish might be honestly struggling to make the best choice. But werewolf Packs crave stability. They want a clear line of succession, and without that, dissatisfaction grows. The Caledonians have already lost wolves to the Cambrian Pack.

Bishop hopes all this is to his advantage. The Caledonian Pack is currently strong and stable, with cracks just beginning to show. It might be the perfect time to reforge an alliance with the Albions, under an Alpha who is young and in a difficult position and therefore currently not a threat.

By earning Bishop’s gratitude, Hamish will have the superior standing he never had with Silas. Hamish can position himself as a mentor to the young Alpha, making that power dynamic clear. And, since the Albions need wolves, maybe Hamish could give Bishop a few of the young and dissatisfied ones, which would let Hamish stabilize his Pack without losing more to the less manageable Cambrians.

Bishop is willing to play the very young Alpha, ready to accept the guidance of his elders, if that gets him what he wants. Any imbalance of power can be corrected later.

Bishop doesn’t seem particularly concerned that Hamish has sent someone to check him out before making contact. As he said, it’s what he’d do.

“All right,” Bishop says. “Continue watching as we circle. If you see another wolf, pretend you do not notice him. We’ll see whether they make contact. I suggest we linger for about a quarter of an hour.”

“Agreed,” Julius says.

We do that. This time, I’m the one who spots another wolf, though I have Bishop confirm my suspicion. This one is also clearly watching us while staying out of scenting range.

“Time to appear as if we are debating our next move,” Bishop says. “I suggest Julius and Kenric step out the front doors as if looking around. I’ll stay here with Rufus, as my enforcer, to be clear I’m reluctant to step onto another Alpha’s territory.”

We do that, and I linger with Bishop and Rufus until Julius and Kenric return to say no one’s waiting outside. Bishop makes a show of checking his pocket watch. Then he sends Kenric to ask the nearest station attendant about hotels.

“There isn’t one attached to the station,” Kenric says when he returns. “But there are several across the road on Princes Street.”

Bishop makes another show of checking his pocket watch, followed by a decisive nod and a wave at the front doors. “We’ll step out and see where the closest lodgings might be.”

We do that, and then we face a quandary because the closest hotel is not up to Bishop’s standards, but one a few doors down is.

“The second,” he says. “I believe that sends the correct message. I said I’d go no more than a half mile. The other is closer, but this shows I won’t accept substandard lodgings if better is within range.”

The station exits onto a wide street, busy, with multiple lanes for coaches and carts. A soft rain falls, and the air is cooler than southern England. We pause, looking this way and that, as Bishop checks his pocket watch with growing annoyance. Then he gestures toward the hotel he’s chosen, and we make our way in that direction. We’re climbing the steps when a voice says “Bishop Danvers?” and the scent of werewolf reaches me.

Bishop turns slowly to see the wolf I’d spotted in the station, young and burly. “I go by Bishop Daniels, but yes, that would be me.”

“You’re to come with me.”

Bishop tilts his head. He could ask on whose authority the man speaks, but that would imply a lone wolf could be roaming the Caledonian Pack’s territory, which would be an insult to the Pack. So he lets that pause stretch several seconds before following.

The wolf leads us into a narrow passage between buildings. Rufus gives a soft growl and shoulders his way into the lead, motioning for Julius and Kenric to bring up the rear. We don’t want to seem reluctant to walk into a dark alley—it would suggest poor nerves—but striding in speaks of recklessness.

So many things to think of, an endless tightrope to walk, considering every choice and how it might be perceived.