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We began picking our way through the forest, not in any hurry to return to the festivities. I imagined he meant this leisure pace as another barb at Henry and Mark, and since I wasn’t looking forward to being thrust under the Leslie family’s scrutiny once more, I relaxed beside him. Above us was the hushed play of colorful leaves in a high breeze, and our footsteps were muted by a scattering of pine needles so thick my feet seemed to sink an inch as we walked. The air had grown warm enough that I wished my dress had cropped sleeves, but it wasn’t hot to the point of needing to roll them.
“My mother was a warlock,” Derrick said at last.
I blinked up at him, surprised. While it was not uncommon for werewolves to marry outside of their clans and species, knowing what I did of his grandfather’s position – Lord Malcolm could be none other than the Alpha of the King clan – made his parents a rarity.
“Then you’re…” I began and he slanted a smirk at me.
“A half-breed? Yes.”
My face heated to a painful degree, and I looked away from him. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “It’s just, with your grandfather’s interest in you, I imagined he wanted you in the line of succession.”
“He does.”
I frowned, working that one through. Insofar as I knew, there had only been two half-breed Alphas in the last century. Or at least, that’s what my father’s textbook said. Both had been challenged and both had won those challenges, but it was not an enviable life. Though, if I were honest, being Alpha at all did not seem an enviable life to me. Being a half-breed only made the open challenges more frequent.
“You are thinking that my grandfather must be mad,” Derrick said.
“Or cruel.”
“Possibly both.” Derrick chuckled and held a branch aloft so that I could walk by. “When my father married my mother, Lord Malcolm threw them out of the clan. He swore they were never to grace King Manor again on pain of death.”
“That’s awful.”
Derrick hummed his agreement. “I didn’t mind overmuch at the time. I didn’t truly understand that I was different until near my tenth birthday. That’s when werewolves start to change, you know.”
I hadn’t known but chose not to mention it.
“I think my parents hoped I would take after Mum and be warlock in full, with no traces of the wolf in me. But, on my tenth birthday, just like clockwork, I turned and chased the neighbor’s cat up a tree.” Heaving a sigh, he shook his head. “After that, Lord Malcolm started making regular appearances. My father always slammed the door in his face, though.”
“That must have been a trying time for you. I can only imagine your confusion.”
“Oh, it was.” Derrick agreed. “And then…”
He trailed off, his steps slowing to a stop. I stopped with him. There were voices in the distance, mostly laughter, and I could smell water nearby.
“And then one night we were attacked.” His voice was steady, his gaze fixed on a tree though I doubted that was what he was seeing. “It was late, and I was supposed to be sleeping but I’d hidden under my covers with a book and torchstone that Mum had made me for my birthday. It glowed a watery blue.”
He seemed lost for a long minute and I bit my lower lip, suppressing the desire to lean into him. Powerful emotions were running through him, I knew that even without my empathy, and I wished fervently to comfort him somehow.
Derrick’s voice came at last. “There was a crash in the front room. Mum told me to hide under the bed and shut the door and I did.” Derrick swallowed and his gaze was suddenly distant. “There were shouts, a lot of noise that I know now was a fight. Bursts of light under the door that could only have been my mother defending us. And then nothing. For hours, nothing. And I stayed under my bed, crying, praying Mum or Da would come fetch me.”
Maker help me, I yearned for my magic. The trauma written on Derrick’s face was so acute it made every nerve in my body tingle. My fingers tightened on his elbow reflexively. The damage that must have been done to his young mind would never fully heal, and I could see how this one moment led him to the CEB. How he would put his life on the line so that other little children could grow up without such trauma reaching them.
And why he avoided the rest of his family.
“Lord Malcolm fetched me instead,” Derrick said, a hard note edging into his voice. “Da was dead, and Mum was catatonic on the floor. He might have left her there, but I wouldn’t leave her. I threatened to thrash him to bits if he tried taking me without first seeing her safe.”
“He’s been trying to groom you ever since, hasn’t he,” I said.
Derrick nodded.
“And your mother?”
“Someplace safe, or at least I thought. When I was old enough to leave King Manor, I took her with me, but she has not been herself since that night. Some days she forgets to eat, other days she stares at nothing for hours.” He broke off and looked at the ground. “If she speaks, it’s only ever to say my name. Nothing more.”
“Oh, Derrick,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Sorry I asked. Sorry for the pain haunting him. Sorry for his grandfather being here. Sorry for the Leslie clan threatening his mother. Sorry for the dark suspicions that crowded my mind.
