3.
Against all odds, dinner progressed smoothly.
The wolf lord was good at keeping the conversation moving without lingering too long on subjects painful and awkward. Judging from Lileth’s surprised expression, she seemed to find him improbably charming. Thalia said only enough to be polite, instead observing interactions between her guests. There were six of them: Raff Pineda, Magda Versai, and four other wolves, whose first names she memorized dutifully—Janek, Tavros, Bibi, Skylett.
Janek was a tall, venerable wolf with weathered skin, silver hair, and a neatly trimmed goatee while Tavros radiated a youthful charm, tousled brown hair and wide gray eyes, slight of build and perpetually interested in everything. As for Bibi, she was a tall brunette with hazelnut eyes and golden skin. Sky stood no taller than Thalia, but her onyx curls made her memorable, especially when paired with tawny skin and cognac eyes. Really, the whole wolf party was quite attractive in various ways.
“Would you care for dessert or an after-dinner drink?” Thalia asked, belatedly aware that she had been studying her guests for a beat too long.
Raff shook his head. “My people are tired. They didn’t rest well on the road, and we dodged a number of patrols on our way to you.”
Thalia’s brows shot up, but she waited until the rest of the guests filed out, Lileth shepherding them to the rooms they had been assigned. Once the two of them were alone, Thalia started to ask, “Are there Golgoth this far—”
“Eldritch. But we had no way of knowing what allegiance those scouts had, and it seemed best not to engage.”
Unease prickled along her spine, dispelling the momentary comfort created by a decent meal and affable conversation. “What route did you take into the foothills?”
“Through Velder’s Pass.”
Thalia nodded. “How many groups?”
“Five, two close to Daruvar.”
“Those were probably my people, but it was wise to avoid them. We didn’t have word that you were incoming, and it might have escalated. We’ve gone wrong that way before.” The rest of the troops, she had known were moving on Daruvar, but the arrival of the wolves changed things significantly.
“You mean when you attacked the cat king in exile?”
“It wasn’t an attack!” This was a sore point, and she’d already apologized to Gavriel until her throat was raw. Only a not-so-secret love had paved the way to his continued service; she was less sure if he’d forgiven her. It also pissed her off that this bastard could refer to a personal failure so casually.
“That may not be how you meant things to go, but that’s how it ended up,” Raff said. “You don’t win points for good intentions.”
She set her teeth, so it was tough to get the words out. “I don’t require your advice.”
“I can tell it’s a touchy subject, so never mind. Can you show me to my room?”
She choked back the words ‘if you’d gone with Lileth, I wouldn’t have to’ and offered a cordial nod. “This way, please.”
An awkward silence fell as she left the dining hall and guided him through the stone hallways. Raff rubbed his hands over his arms. “Damn chilly. I should go wolf.”
“Do as you please,” she muttered. “Here we are.” Thalia threw open the door and swept an arm, indicating the room, already lit with solar lamps. “If you’re cold, I can have a fire lit in the hearth.”
“How delightfully archaic, but I can build my own blaze, should I desire one.” The wolf sent her a look that she gathered was meant to be seductive.
She ignored the innuendo. “I suppose you should know something about woodcraft. Good night, then.”
Thalia left without looking back and by the time she got to her room, Lileth was there waiting for her. “It’s a good thing the wolves didn’t bring more honor guards,” she said.
“Did everyone seem comfortable enough?” Half of Daruvar wasn’t fit for habitation, but she wouldn’t have it said that Eldritch hospitality was lacking, even under such haphazard circumstances.
Lil hesitated. “I had to send four of their folks to the barracks. Be prepared to hear complaints in the morning.”
A strain of bias ran through her people, and some of them looked down on the Animari. She had to make it clear that she would give no space to such sentiments. While she wished she had a better solution than Raff Pineda, that was a personality preference. Under ideal circumstances, she would choose someone measured and rational, not a hot-tempered scoundrel. His attachment to Magda Versai hadn’t escaped her notice, either.
Already she had questions; those two were close in Ash Valley and it was impossible not to wonder if Magda was the mistress she would contend with long-term, provided this marriage went through. Overall, it seemed more probable that the woman was the first of many, as the wolf lord didn’t seem like the loyal sort. Their relationship would likely be for show, displayed primarily on formal occasions. A pang went through her, a fleeting wish that things could be different, but Thalia shook her head, putting the issue aside. She didn’t need fidelity as part of their arrangement.
Still, she fought a tide of weariness as she said, “I always am. It all worked out, at least.”
Lil always saw more than she let on. Her neutral response revealed none of her private conclusions. “You should get some rest. It will be a long day tomorrow.”
Normally, she would ignore such suggestions and work until her eyes shut at her desk, but Lileth had a point. She needed to be both clearheaded and charming when she took Raff on a tour of the fortress first thing the next morning. Her aide had already put together a sample schedule of how she could best dedicate her time before they settled into the serious business of negotiating the marriage contract.
Thalia muttered an assent as Lileth left her quarters. The room still didn’t feel familiar, as she hadn’t been staying here long, and the gray stones held fast to the last of winter’s chill, despite spring relative proximity. She threw the heavy maroon curtains wide to let in a faint trickle of moonlight and for a moment, she stared up at the starry sky. Thalia knew she shouldn’t be weary so early in the game, but she had been fighting silently, slowly, for decades already.
Her heart ached too; there had been no opportunity to mourn her father’s death. Her followers wouldn’t understand that even if he had been venal and wrong, he’d still given her life, and before he passed the point of no return, he’d taught her to play Kingcross and always read epic poems aloud at her bedside when she couldn’t sleep. Now, he was known as the maniac who had betrayed his people, the Pax Protocols, and allied with a murderous despot, killing his own in the process. Thalia might never be able to overcome that legacy because the Eldritch had long memories.
Sighing, she changed into her pajamas—utilitarian blue cotton that might surprise anyone who expected greater elegance—when a soft tap sounded. Thalia opened the door, expecting to find Gavriel with a list of issues that couldn’t wait. Instead, it was Raff Pineda, leaning on the opposite wall with a bottle of wine tucked under one arm. He sauntered forward, offering a crooked smile like a flower bouquet.
“You look like you need a drink. And I owe you an apology. It’s one thing to be feckless, another to be unkind.”
It was impossible to be elegant or dignified in bare feet and blue pajamas, so she settled for returning an icy stare, ignoring his peace offering. “We haven’t yet come to an agreement, and we are not in a relationship where such informality is permissible. Therefore, this is…” She couldn’t find a word that encompassed both the audacity and impoliteness, so she settled for, “Rude.”
“Lady Silver, I never would’ve guessed that you’re such a stickler for the proprieties.”
“Why do you insist on calling me that?”
“You are a lady and your hair is like molten silver,” he said, sounding so reasonable that for a few seconds, Thalia felt like a dimwit for asking. Then he added with disarming perception, “Plus, I thought it might trouble you to be addressed by your surname.”
Damn it, he was right. Until she redeemed House Talfayen, she certainly didn’t want to hear the name on anyone’s lips. “You may call me Princess Thalia.”
A smirk curled his mouth as he ambled past her into the bedroom. “Who’s crowned you? Isn’t that why you want an alliance with Pine Ridge?”
Her weariness evaporated in a burst of iridescent anger. With a muffled snarl, she snatched the wine bottle and slammed the door behind him. “By all means, let’s drink.”
The Eldritch princess’s room was impersonal, devoid of mementos. As Raff understood, she had led a failed rebellion against her father decades ago, and since then, Lord Talfayen had kept her in seclusion. Even that hadn’t stopped her from exerting tendrils of influence. That took a level of determination that he would be a fool to disregard. This woman could be his chief ally or his greatest enemy.
Time to make an effort.
He pulled the corkscrew from his pocket and deftly twisted the cork from the wine bottle. It was a light, sweet wine he’d accepted as a gift in Ash Valley, before everything went to hell. It seemed like a melancholy moment, cracking this bottle open and drinking down the fermented fruit of more peaceful times.
“Do you have glasses?” he asked.
She was annoyed, he could tell, but he had no intention of sticking to an itinerary. If Thalia couldn’t be flexible, they had no future.
In answer, she brought two ceramic mugs, one slightly chipped. “Will these do?”
“Perfectly. May I sit?”
“As if you’d listen if I said no,” she muttered.
“Of course I would,” he said, startled and more than slightly offended. “If you want me to leave, I’ll go. Never in my life have I lingered when someone wanted me gone.”
Her gaze narrowed on him for a few seconds, then she seemed to accept his sincerity. “You said you were tired earlier.”
“I said my people were,” Raff corrected.
“That…is true.”
“Now that they’re settled, we should have a private chat.” He hadn’t wanted to spend more time with others judging their interactions, especially that angry, red-eyed Noxblade.
“I’m willing.” Her tone was a little less grudging, at least.
The furniture was more comfortable than it looked since it was sturdy wood topped with cushions. Raff settled on the bench opposite and poured two mugs of Ash Valley Moscato. He liked the look of Thalia a bit more in the warm solar glow, her hair spilling like mercury over narrow shoulders. Even the blue pajamas suited her, tailored and crisp, a trifle too long so that the piped hem came down nearly to her toes. She sat like a child, curling her legs to the side. It was difficult to grapple with the fact that she was so much older and would live for many years after he was gone, unless she overused her gift.
“In such weather, we should mull this with cinnamon and spice,” he said.
“Wouldn’t red wine be better?”
“It works with white as well. To your health, Lady Silver.” Raff raised his cup and she surprised him by leaning forward to clack her’s against his.
“Back at you, Lord Wolf.”
“Until now, the only time we’ve spent alone was when we were on the ramparts, with you firing like a Valkyrie. You were impressive that night.”
She smiled, coolly pleased. “I would be interested in sparring with you sometime. I’ll even let you choose the weapon.”
“I suspect you’ll have the advantage, as I’ve never studied any weapon. There was simply no reason.”
“Oh.” She looked like she’d forgotten, momentarily, that he could shift. “I’m not sure how it would work out then, if I’m fencing and you’re a wolf.”
“I might get skewered,” he said, taking a sip.
“Or I might get badly bitten.”
“Such a possibility exists.”
Thalia surprised him by laughing softly. “I thought you’d swear that you’ll never hurt me, that you’re quite a harmless wolf.”
He liked the amused light in her eyes; someone without a sense of humor would make a dismal life partner. “I’ll only promise that if we come to an agreement. I’m not in the business of making vows that I won’t keep.”
“That’s good to hear,” she said.
“Shall we play a game?”
“Kingcross?” She looked so hopeful that he couldn’t bring himself to say that he’d intended to suggest something else. “There’s an old board around here somewhere…”
Before he could respond, she got up and rambled around the room, opening drawers here and there, until she produced a gleaming wooden box. It unfolded to reveal the bone and blood hues of an expensive antique. Something like this would be an absolute heirloom in Pine Ridge, probably displayed behind protective glass. Her careless attitude spoke volumes about how different their peoples perceived the passage of time.
With eager fingers, she set out the pieces, artfully carved from alabaster and onyx. King and Queen, Knight and Squire, Priest and Nun. “Choose your color, sir.”
Raff pulled the dark pieces to his side of the board. “What else can a black wolf be?”
“Is that what you change into?” Her curiosity seemed genuine as she arranged the pale figurines on her side.
“It is.”
“Is there a lot of variety among your…pack? Is that the right word?” Her expression was solemn, lending the impression that she cared about the verbiage.
“Pack is right for wolves. With the cats, it’s pride, and the bears prefer clan.”
“What about the birds in the Aerie? Would that be a flock?”
It was an excellent question, but he’d never actually met anyone from the reclusive avian settlement. “I presume so, but it’s always best to inquire about someone’s preferences to prevent giving unintentional offense.”
“Wise, sensible strategy,” she commended, making her first move.
Raff hadn’t played much Kingcross. It required a lot of predictive reasoning, focusing on his opponent’s probable maneuverings; in short, it was exactly the sort of the thing that made him edgy and gave him a headache. This was why he had Korin as his second; she excelled in this sphere, freeing him for more enjoyable endeavors.
He chose at random, hoping he remembered the directions the pieces were allowed to travel and the jumps permitted. There were so many stratagems and gambits one could memorize, and he suspected Thalia was the sort who knew them all, forward and back. Therefore, he would play to make her happy, not to win.
Maybe he could still work toward his agenda of getting to know her better. “Shall we make this more interesting?”
“How?”
Mags would have immediately told him she wasn’t playing strip Kingcross and possibly threatened his life. Because the Eldritch princess seemed less aggressive, at least on the surface, he said, “The winner gets a boon.”
“Anything?” Thalia asked.
“Within reason. Nothing dangerous or…illicit.”
“Agreed. But I’ll have you know, you will likely be the one paying the penalty.”
“I’m willing,” Raff said.
Through losing, he might learn a great deal about her ambitions and her secret desires. They made small talk as the match progressed. As he’d expected, she quickly outclassed him, taking his pieces with all the ferocious glee of a gaming despot. In the end, he yielded.
Thalia eyed him while claiming his king and crowning her own. “Kingcross. I’ve won. Rather handily, in fact. I hoped you might offer more of a challenge.”
“Not at this, alas, but I did enjoy your company. What’s my forfeit?”
“Answer me a question,” Thalia said.
“That’s all you want of me?” An unlikely development, but the fact that she wanted to know more about him, enough to wager for it, that was…intriguing. Never in Pine Ridge’s history had a leader brought home an outside mate, and the pack was divided, even now, as to whether this was an advisable course. They hadn’t liked his overtures to the Golgoth Prince any better, for the same reasons.
“My curiosity is intense. I asked in Ash Valley, but no one would share the story. How did you get that scar on your cheek?”