Page 53 of The Wolf Queen’s Curse

“A Pack decimated after a dispute over a woman,” Hamish muses. “The Caledonian Pack has never practiced mating and, perhaps coincidentally, we have never faced a mutiny.”

Bishop answers calmly, “If you are drawing a comparison to the Albion Pack’s current situation, sir, it would only hold true if I insisted on marrying Cordelia and challenged Silas for the right to do so. My challenge did not arise from any issue of mating.”

“Yet half your Pack is dead because Silas tried to change the rule against mating.”

“Respectfully, that was Silas’s doing, and it was about succession, not the right to have a mate. The problem, I fear, was that Silas did not enjoy your fecundity.” He nods toward Hamish’s three sons. “In his drive to establish a legacy, he attempted an alternate solution and unwisely betrayed a cabal to do it.”

“I’m only poking at you, lad,” Hamish says, and then winks at me. “Teasing both of you. I understand it’s an unusual situation, and you are making the best of it.”

“We are.”

“Which will include, I presume, Silas posthumously realizing his dream. A passel of strong werewolf sons to succeed you.”

Bishop tries for a smile, but it’s tight. “I have only been married a few days, sir. My bride and I are both young, with much more pressing concerns. Now, as for the Cambrian Pack, the new one was started by an American.”

Hamish tries to keep his face impassive, but anger sparks in his eyes. “Franklin Doyle.”

“Yes,” Bishop says. “He was a member of the American Pack, who failed an Alpha challenge. He came with another American Pack member. They may have attempted to poach members of the Albion Pack, but Doyle aimed at young wolves, and the Albion youth had all come with me, so they were happy where they were. They then turned their attention to the Caledonian Pack.”

“Where they began ‘poaching,’ as you call it. Waylaying my young men when they were out and tricking them into changing allegiance.”

Hamish is implying dirty business, luring the young wolves away. I’m not sure that would be necessary. His Pack is too big, with young and disaffected wolves. I suspect it wouldn’t take much to convince them to try their luck with a new Pack where they had a chance to climb the ranks. Like the allure of the Americas themselves, where young men are told they have the chance to throw off the oppression of the Old World’s strict social structure and prove themselves in a wild new land.

Of course, it’d do no good to argue with Hamish on this. Demonizing the Cambrian Pack is to our advantage. We are the alternative. So Bishop only nods and makes noises that condemn such outrageous behavior.

Hamish waves his fork. “The Cambrian Pack is an embarrassment. Even to call them a Pack belittles the name. That’s what happens when proper succession is ignored and a young, untested Alpha takes the lead.”

Julius looks as if he wants to interject, but a glance from Bishop stops him. Bishop cuts and chews another piece of pork, as if this statement has nothing to do with him.

“Is that not what I should fear with you, lad?” Hamish says, clearly annoyed that he had to make the connection for us. I hide my smile. He wanted to put Bishop on the defensive, and my husband is not going there.

“In my case,” Bishop says, “proper succession was followed. I was the Alpha-elect, and then I won the position in a challenge, in accordance with Pack law. I presume you are referring to the Cambrian Pack’s current situation?”

“Situation?”

“Being a Pack without a seat. Without a home and properties. Without territory.”

Hamish grunts. “Not a Pack at all.”

“Technically, you’re correct. They call themselves a Pack, and have taken the name of the Cambrians, but they haven’t consulted with the other British Packs. Silas saw fit not to challenge them on their claim because they hadn’t officially made one. He presumed they were attempting to claim Wales but—as you well know—that has been neutral territory since the original Cambrian Pack disintegrated. Silas wanted to ignore the Cambrians until they either came into England or tried to stop us from crossing into Wales. In short, until they made a de facto territory claim.”

“Which they have not,” Julius says. “Yet.”

Bishop nods. “My advice—which Silas took—was to regularly have Albion wolves passing through Wales. Not as a show of force, but simply to make our presence known. I also had one of our wolves make contact. According to him, Doyle isn’t ready to claim territory, as he isn’t yet in a position to purchase property for a proper Pack seat.”

“And when he is,” Hamish mutters, “gods help us. His entire Pack is comprised of nothing but rabid mongrels.”

“I presume,” Bishop continues, ignoring that, “you were comparing me to him earlier because the Albion Pack risks losing its seat and its territory. That is what I’m here to prevent.”

Hamish peers over his wineglass as he drinks. Then he sets it down. “Go on.”

Bishop lifts his brows. “Do you wish to hear my plans for avoiding that?”

“No, I’m waiting to hear you tell me why it’s in my interests to ensure that never happens, and use that to push your agenda. Fearmongering, with an undercurrent of threat.”

There is a long pause, one that eventually becomes so awkward even Hamish shifts in discomfort.

Bishop speaks, his voice even. “You do not know me, sir, and so I understand you did not intend that as an insult. I do not rule by fearmongering or threat. That was Silas’s way.”