Page 42 of The Wolf Queen’s Curse

The alley is too narrow for Bishop and me to walk side by side, and he wants me to go ahead. Part of that is respect—not having his wife trailing him. Part of it is in case we’re attacked from the rear. But I do a quick calculation of my own and fall in behind him.

We continue down the alley until wolves appear at the end, sliding from the shadows. Bishop’s shoulders tighten. I can make out at least three men. The one in front looks about Rufus’s age, with light hair, a tailored suit, and a mouth twisted in the faintest moue of distaste.

“Bishop Danvers,” he says.

“My father went by Daniels,” Bishop says, his voice deceptively mild. “But I’m certainly not trying to hide who I am, so use whichever name you like.”

“I am Edwin Campbell, eldest son of Hamish Campbell.”

“It’s a pleasure to—”

“What is that?” Edwin says, and Bishop’s shoulders tighten just a fraction at the interruption. “You brought your whore?”

Bishop’s whole body tenses, his voice dropping to a low growl. “I brought—”

“We are not the Cambrian Pack,” Edwin says. “We do not bring whores into our home. Nor are we the Albions, sneaking them in as so-called maids and cooks.”

Bishop’s voice is ice cold. “This is my—”

I lay a hand gently on Bishop’s arm, and to my surprise, he lets me slide past. Rufus gives me an appraising look and then steps aside as well.

I walk right up to Edwin and take some pleasure in his shock as his nostrils flare when he catches my scent. Behind him, a bigger light-haired wolf makes no attempt to hide his long sniff … or his appreciative grin.

“Please allow me to introduce myself,” I say, extending one gloved hand. “Cordelia Daniels. Bishop’s mate. Only child of Silas Stockwell, former Alpha of the Albion Pack. I have never met another Alpha’s child, and I am delighted to make your acquaintance.”

That sets him back, as he realizes I’m placing myself on equal social footing. I expect him to balk, but he only says, stiffly, “I was not aware Silas had any offspring.”

“Only me, I fear,” I say. “I was raised with my mother’s side of the family. They are Levines. Witches, who head the Levine Cabal.”

Rufus makes the smallest noise that might be a chuckle. I might not want anything to do with that cabal, but I won’t be above using them when it comes to establishing my credentials.

“A witch and a lycan,” the wolf behind Edwin says. “And a beauty to boot. Nicely done, Danvers. Nicely done indeed.”

“This is my brother, Angus,” Edwin says. “Behind him is the youngest, Dennis.”

A wolf about my age slouches against the wall, making a very good show of looking bored.

“Your father honors us in sending all three of his sons,” I say, and then nod and move back behind Rufus. Bishop squeezes my hand as I pass him.

Bishop completes the introductions, and then Edwin says we’ll be spending the night at their Edinburgh town house. It’s already growing late, and we must be tired, and we will make the trip to their country seat in the morning.

Hamish is setting the tone quickly. Sending all three sons is indeed a mark of respect, though not as high as having Hamish come himself. Likewise, having us spend the night in their city residence is a sign of respect just short of bringing us to their estate.

Hamish is saying that Bishop is not his equal, but he does respect Bishop’s new status. It’s an excellent starting point, and I relax a little as we are escorted down the alley to waiting coaches.

FIFTEEN

The night is uneventful. The town house is in a fine part of town only a few blocks from the train station, and we are given a floor of rooms to ourselves. There is no staff, but a cold repast has been laid out, the food excellent in both quality and quantity. Hamish’s three sons and their small entourage don’t suggest dining with us. Again, the message is clear. You are our guests, and we will show you every civility, but we are not ready to sit down at the table with you.

I then discover one advantage to dining with werewolves. I spend only a split second indulging in poisoned-food paranoia before realizing they’d smell it. I likely would, too.

Bishop and I take advantage of having a room to ourselves, but it’s a quiet bit of mutual pleasuring, more pressure release than anything, both of us on edge. So far our welcome is acceptable and even promising, but we cannot let our guard down.

We wake to more food delivered, along with a note that we will be departing at ten, and there is a soft rain, meaning we may want to continue wearing our travel clothes. Very polite and considerate, and a mark in their favor, though it does leave me wondering which brother wrote it. The problem with there being three—with no named heir—is that Bishop doesn’t know where to focus his attention. Of course, the benefit is that he can choose the one best suited as an ally.

When we descend just before ten, all three brothers are there, along with the two other wolves who’d accompanied them. Those two had driven the coaches last night and presumably will again.

“I ask Bishop and his mate to ride with me,” Edwin says. “Along with another of your party. The remaining two will ride with my brothers.”