Page 54 of The Wolf Queen’s Curse

“And your grandfather’s.”

Bishop’s low laugh carries an edge that has Hamish shifting again, and me drinking wine to suppress my smile. Whatever Hamish expected, Bishop is not it, and he is going to set him straight at every turn.

“My grandfather couldn’t even run a business,” Bishop says. “He was working for my father and uncle before they were old enough for their first transformation. Now, if you mean that fear and threat was my grandfather’s way of dealing with life in general? Even that is inaccurate. He didn’t threaten to hurt anyone. He just hurt them. And that, I suppose, made him the threat, and it certainly made him the fear. Stay on his good side or face the consequences. Which was wasted effort.”

“He doesn’t have a good side,” Julius murmurs.

Bishop smiles at his cousin. “Yes. Fear and threat implies a trade. Behave or face the consequences. If Montague wants a thing, he takes it, whether you’ve done anything to deserve losing it or not. And none of that is how I lead. Ask my cousin, or if you think he’s a biased audience, ask Rufus Cain here, who has known me from boyhood. Or ask Kenric MacDonald, who accompanied us and was a member of the Albion Pack before I joined.”

Hamish perks up. “Cain? That’s a very old name. Henry was your cousin, then?”

“He was,” Rufus says.

“A good family. A very good family. I should have guessed it when I saw you. All the Cains are big brutes. Not too smart, but who needs brains when you’re that size.”

I tense, reminded of my father, who tossed off insults like this. But Hamish doesn’t seem to think it’s an insult. He’s smiling at Rufus like he’s met an old friend. Bishop opens his mouth, likely to defend Rufus’s intelligence, but then stops.

If Hamish thinks Bishop’s enforcer lacks intelligence, that’s to our advantage.

Julius says, “And Kenric has a cousin in your Pack. His uncle was a member as well.”

“There are a lot of MacDonalds,” Hamish says dismissively, and I try not to goggle at him.

So the Danverses, known to have madness running in their veins, are a fine family. As are the Cains, known to be dumb brutes. But the MacDonalds—part of his actual Pack—aren’t worth his time.

Because they aren’t an old werewolf lineage. That’s what matters, as our guide earlier said. The bloodline and how renowned it is, regardless of whether that renown is fame or infamy.

“How do you rule then, lad?” Hamish says, moving on.

“Strength.”

Hamish eyes Bishop. “You’re tall but middling weight. Average for a wolf your age.”

“Strength is more than physical power, though it plays a role obviously. Strength of character. Strength of mind. Strength of will.”

Hamish leans back and studies him. “So what do you want from me?”

“Support,” Bishop says. “How you provide that is up to you. What I need is to reclaim Trevelyan. I presume that when I attempt it, Beryl Levine will have something to say about that. The next step may be negotiating an end to this crisis.”

“And if that’s not possible?”

“Then we present a force strong enough that she’ll decide it’s not worth her while to press harder. She wants Cordelia as her heir, which means she needs to show her why the family cabal presents the superior option. Killing her mate and his Pack won’t do that.”

“So by support, I presume you mean sending men with you to present that force.”

“Likely, yes.”

“My men?” Sarcasm drips from Hamish’s voice. “My best fighters? My young bloods? The ones you might woo to bolster your ranks permanently?”

“The men you wish to send, whoever that might be. I can’t imagine your best fighters would be easily wooed away from you. They’re too valuable.”

Hamish grunts. To press on this point suggests there’s a reason Bishop might easily woo those fighters, that this Pack doesn’t value them for their abilities. Bishop has laid a clever trap here—if Hamish sends inferior fighters, it suggests the good ones could be swayed.

“Whoever you wish to send,” Bishop repeats. “Under the command, perhaps, of one of your sons, to ensure I behave honorably. As I said, you don’t know me, so I understand my word isn’t enough.”

“I could go,” Edwin says. “Or Angus.”

“Thanks,” Dennis says.