Cloaked in Blood

by T. F. Walsh

  “Your father will enter you anyway. You’re an automatic participant.” I faced him ... all six foot three reclining on the couch, legs stretched and crossed at the ankles, arms by his side. His blue stormy eyes reminded me with whom I spoke. The emperor’s son, the same family who tried to kill me. I now played in the devil’s house and couldn’t let my guard down. Levin’s atrocious acts were notorious across every continent, and I’d need allies if I wanted any chance of surviving. Considering how Marcin stood up for Aisha in front of his father, I struggled to believe he might take after Levin when it came to leadership and manipulation.

  So, I’d tread carefully with Marcin if I wanted him as an ally. Maybe I could also finally get to the bottom of what really happened back in Turkey that day we were caught escaping. And why he never came back for me.

  I sat at the opposite end of the huge couch from Marcin, who wore a calm expression. My inner wolf snapped to full alert whenever we were in Marcin’s company. No denying that fact.

  Only the crackle and snap of the fire filled the space between us, and each time I attempted to ask a question, my throat seized. What would I say? Oh, it’s nice that we’re getting mated now ... after your family tried to kill me. But I was doing this for Aisha, for her safety, not my happiness. If I could barely strike up a conversation, I was in for a long, lonely future, but my need for an ally meant being extra nice. Doing what it took.

  “I never knew you were into swords, but I was impressed by your technique during the dance.” Marcin’s voice was soft, obviously struggling for a comfortable conversation too.

  Plastering a smile on my face, I twirled a long piece of hair around a finger, pushing aside my apprehensions and embracing my mission. I needed to get closer to Marcin to find out exactly what was going on in this place. “You should see me out on the field in fight mode.”

  He shifted in his seat to face me. “Your father doesn’t mind? Last time we spoke, he barely allowed you to leave the house, let alone pick up a weapon.”

  I shrugged. “What can I say? Life’s changed a lot since then. Father isn’t exactly thrilled with the idea, but if he ignores it, he fools himself into thinking it doesn’t happen.”

  Marcin broke into a chuckle, his deep voice caressing the length of my back, raising the hairs down my arms in all the right ways.

  “Fantastic. I’ve got several female wulfkin in my pack who are stronger warriors than half the males. You’re welcome to train with us anytime.”

  My shoulders shot back. “Really?” I’d jump at the chance. Especially if it meant training with a pack of real hunters, rather than just me alone behind the house or sneaking in training sessions with the captain of the guards when Father wasn’t around.

  “Why not? I’d love to see how you handle a sword in the field.”

  “You’ve got yourself a deal.” The idea excited me more than it should, but for years, I’d wished for Father to extend such an invitation to me. He never had. Was this sudden kindness Marcin’s way of easing me into our upcoming mating? I couldn’t blame him for it, although his reaction earlier in the day disturbed me, so I had to ask. “Look, Marcin. I know you’re not a fan of our mating, but—”

  “Don’t worry about that now.” He sat up, elbows on his thighs while glancing sideways in my direction. “Father said our mating was being put aside until after the tournament.”

  The way Marcin said the word mating seemed to sting him, and he was dismissing the ritual as if he’d already ended it. Was that his intention if he won the boon?

  Sure. He planned on breaking off the mating. Then I’d be forced back home, and Father would mate Aisha and me off. Much as I loathed the idea of a forced mating with Marcin, it served a real purpose. Aisha would be free, and it protected our family, not to mention hopefully stopping any more wulfkin from dying on either side.

  But now that Marcin had come clean, I couldn’t ignore the obvious answer whacking me in the face. He was placating me, pretending friendliness, when in fact he planned to push me away. So, why was he bothering to be nice at all?

  “Well, don’t worry. It’s loud and clear.” I stood, took his jacket off, and tossed it on the couch alongside him.

  “What are you talking about?” He now stood next to me, so close I felt his exhale on my cheek, and my knees weakened.

  Damn, he was fast.

  His hand coasted into mine, and he lifted it to his chest just like he used to when we were younger. I didn’t realize how much I missed those days when he’d reassure me with his sincere eyes. Couldn’t he see what repercussions his actions had on both packs?

  I had to face the cold, hard facts. Instead of playing a game that would only end in breaking my heart further, I slipped my hand free. This wasn’t the Marcin I’d once loved. Forget your foolish dreams. And as much as faking it seemed like the answer, that wasn’t me.

  “Father will be wondering where I am.” I swung around the couch and hurried toward the exit.

  The door flapped open, and I froze. Mud and excrement invaded my nostrils.

  A flurry of cold wind whooshed inside, throwing hair over my shoulder, my skirt billowing around my legs. The doorway stood empty, but I spotted the wisps of a shadow backing away.

  At the same time, a faint whistle carved through the air coming from the hallway.

  Quick footsteps closed in behind me.

  The moment I dove sideways, Marcin crashed into me, bringing us both to the ground hard. Air gushed from my lungs. Hardwood floor planks hit my face with a thud.

  “Selena, are you all right?” Marcin jumped to his feet, stretching a hand out to me. “Are you hurt?”

  “What was that?” I accepted his hand and was on my feet in a flash.

  “Stay here. Lock the door.” He spun and bolted from the room, heading right. The same direction I’d seen the shadow vanish.

  I replayed the scene in my head. Someone was in the hallway all right, but why run away? Then I remembered the whistling sound ... an object being thrown. Maybe an arrow. I retraced the path from the door and back, scanned the floorboards, the couch. Nothing.

  Something felt wrong, and the mud and putrid smell was blocking out the wolf scent of the intruder.

  I reached the fireplace and lifted my gaze. As I did, I caught a glimpse of something silver, shiny.

  I gasped.

  Impaled into the wooden fireplace frame was a small dagger with a metal end, engraved with a crescent moon. The weapon was the length of my hand.

  Was I imagining this? I couldn’t breathe.

  The dagger protruding from the mantle said otherwise. Someone had tried to kill one of us.

  My hand trembled as I reached out to run a finger across the moon pattern in the silver.

  This wasn’t any ordinary dagger. It belonged to my father.

  I plucked it free and shoved it into my skirt’s pocket, my heart threatening to break through my rib cage.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Marcin

  “This is an outright insult.” The sultan’s voice boomed as he paced back and forth in front of the fireplace in the weapons room. “I thought you invited us here for a truce, not a slaughtering. But it’s no surprise, considering how you treat your own son.”

  I cringed at his flippant remark and glanced over at my father who stood behind the couch, gripping the back of it. The flickering light from the fireplace turned his twisted expression into a sinister one.

  “Sultan, there’s no sign of the weapon, so—” I began, but he cut me off with a curt wave of his hand.

  “Someone attempted to assassinate my daughter. You said you saw someone in the hallway, and something was flung toward Selena.” His gaze settled on his daughter, who stood several paces away, hands folded in front of her stomach, then he refocused on me. “Someone from your pack—”

  “Enough.” Father pushed away from the couch, loosening his collar. “There was no evidence of an assassination attempt, just a shadow.”

  The sultan
huffed, his lips flattened. “That’s a lie. Someone attacked Selena, and it was only luck of the moon goddess they missed.”

  All eyes turned to Selena, who’d been too silent for my liking.

  “What did you see?” my father asked.

  Selena glanced behind her at the closed door. Was she contemplating a quick exit? “It happened so fast.” She turned to face us. “The door flung open and a gust of wind came in, then Marcin crashed into me and we both fell to the floor.” Her words were calm, almost too serene as if she were reading a menu at a restaurant.

  “See, it was just the wind,” my father said.

  I didn’t believe them one bit and marched to the doorway, and then made a beeline back toward the fireplace—the same direction I’d seen a tiny object flung into the room, but found nothing. How could Selena not have seen something coming right for us? I turned to Father. “I heard something flying into the room. Whoever had thrown it had to have followed us from the courtyard,” I said, with my back to both Varlac leaders. “They opened the door and shot at us before bolting.” I studied the carved wooden frame along the mantel. If an object was flung into the room, it would have landed somewhere in this vicinity.

  “Oh,” Selena chirped. “Did I mention the smell of mud and crap? Did you sense it too, Marcin? Maybe someone left a window open out in the hallway.” She strolled toward me and set a hand on my forearm, the slightest of quivers resonating from her touch. Her stoic expression gave little away, yet my instincts were on full alert. She hadn’t openly touched me this way since arriving in Hungary, so what was she up to now? I couldn’t work out her intention and stuck to the truth.

  “Yeah, muddy footprints vanished out the back door into the woods. Someone was there, so I’ve got wulfkin searching for the culprit,” I said.

  “Doesn’t prove a thing,” the sultan blurted, his jaw set hard and his body angling away from me to face Father. “How can my daughters feel safe after this? You’re blaming us to deflect attention from yourself.” A slight growl hung off his last word as he shot Father with his glare.

  “Right now,” I said, “there’s no way to know who was targeted. We don’t even have a weapon.” I didn’t buy into my own bullshit, but the plan was to stop the Varlac leaders from killing each other. We almost had world war three back in the dining hall.

  “It’s probably nothing.” Selena sidestepped me, our arms brushing. My inner wolf responded within a heartbeat, prodding me to get closer. But hell, talk about this being the wrong time.

  Silence struck, the kind that came before a huge storm shredded the place to bits.

  She approached the sultan in hasty, jerky steps, speaking ultrafast. “Let’s not jump to conclusions, Baba.”

  My father hadn’t moved from his position near the couch, though the tight muscles in his neck said it all. He was pissed. Who wouldn’t be? But a new expression slid over his face as quickly as putting on a mask.

  “Sultan, we don’t want a repeat of what happened nine years ago. I’ll put extra guards on duty for both our sides.”

  I stared at Father. Why was he so accommodating? My suspicions flew to his involvement, but until I had more facts, I refused to add to the fire.

  “Excellent idea,” I said. Anything to extinguish the growing tension.

  The sultan shook his head, his gaze bouncing between Selena, my father, and the door. “This isn’t over.”

  If the sultan still held a grudge for Selena’s injury from years ago, then yeah, maybe he could be responsible. But he would have to know fingers would be pointed in his direction. Despite the cruelty my father was capable of, he was too calculating to simply bring the Turkish Varlac leader here, kill Selena, and start a war. It made no sense, especially since I recalled Father’s excitement about gaining a foothold into Turkey with the dowry.

  My father clapped, the sound resonating through the room, and approached the sultan. “Okay, I do believe we should return to our meal.” The underlying tone of Father’s voice rocked as if he too was desperate to move past the stalemate. I wasn’t buying his laid-back reaction. I’d find out what he hid later.

  On the other hand, the sultan hadn’t quite settled down and still wore a grimace. His stare targeted Selena. “Mohammad,” he bellowed.

  A stocky, bald guard pushed open the door, a sword at his hip. He resembled a grizzly bear in size, with a jacket tight across his chest. How could he protect anyone when he could barely move his arms?

  “Take Selena to her room.”

  “What?” Her face paled.

  “After this incident, you’ll be guarded twenty-four hours, and you’re not to go anywhere in the castle alone. End of discussion.”

  Selena’s mouth dropped open.

  “Take her.”

  Mohammad marched toward Selena. She squared her posture and shoved past him on her way to the door. The guard chased after her. Well, at least I wasn’t the only one with father issues.

  “Come, let’s return to the hall.” Father said.

  The sultan released a loud exhale. “You’re lucky you only have boys.”

  “Ha. They have their own set of problems, trust me.”

  The pair left the room without a glance my way. Fine by me. Time to get my head together and work out what the fuck had happened in this room.

  Retracing my steps from where Selena was standing, I trod toward the fireplace, scanning the ground for anything out of place. If something was thrown at us and missed, it could have fallen anywhere in the room. I tossed the couch cushions aside. Nothing hidden underneath. I lifted the edge of the sofa off the floor to find a layer of dust. No surprise.

  The fire crackled and spat as I studied the burning logs, figuring whatever was aimed at us might have fallen in. Not even moving them around with a poker helped.

  I retreated to the entrance and angled myself to face the exact spot where Selena and I had been standing; just one foot left from the couch. Then I lowered myself as I assumed whatever was thrown would be aimed at our chest for maximum impact. My gaze lined up directly with the corner of the fireplace mantel.

  I inspected the curves and floral patterns, running a finger over the wood. Something rough brushed under my finger, and I dropped my hand. A thin slit of a puncture was near the far corner. The kind caused by a small knife. I inhaled the faintest wisp of bitterness and a sickly scent. What was that? Taking another sniff, I was convinced I recognized the smell but couldn’t place it. So familiar that the sourness stung my nostrils. Poison.

  Did the sultan put a hit out on me, or had Father ordered someone to take out Selena? Was I approaching this wrong and perhaps the answer lay with another enemy? Goddess knows, Father had enough of those to fill a country.

  But where was the weapon? Surveying the floorboards around me revealed nothing.

  I ran a hand down my face and sighed.

  Selena was the only person alone in this room after the attack. If she’d taken the weapon, what was her reason and why hadn’t she told anyone?

  My chest tightened with dread.

  • • •

  A sonorous trumpeting echoed around me. I rolled over in bed and dragged a pillow over my head to block out the sound. It came again, louder. What the shit was going on? I shoved the pillow and blanket aside, then reached to the bedside table, tapping for my cell in the dark.

  Six fuckin’ o’clock?

  The toot boomed from outside again, long and thudding. Wouldn’t be the first time Father insisted on an ungodly catch-up, involving every wulfkin in the castle. I swore I’d find that blasted horn and destroy it.

  Rubbing my eyes, I dragged myself to the window. The sun showed no sign of rising anytime soon. A silvery hue from the moonlight reflected off the snowcapped trees. This scene was why I’d picked this room. Aside from it resembling a loft and being in the highest point of the castle, the view reminded me of my true nature—a wulfkin. Wild at heart, but feet planted squarely in the human world.

  Ten minutes later, I st
ood in front of the mirror ... washed, and dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and a coat. Strands of hair poked outward, but no matter how much I patted them down, they refused to flatten. The ends clumped over my shoulders. Whatever. I could barely keep my eyes open. After yesterday’s horrendous events, I had planned a full day of hunting after Father announced the participants in the initial challenge. My name had better be on the list.

  After dinner last night, I had cornered Father about his relaxed state in the weapons room. He swore he wasn’t involved but insisted if someone wanted to kill Selena, he wasn’t going to rush to stop them. Then he doubled the guards watching over me. That was the closest he’d ever been to showing me he cared.

  In the hallway, three guards stood to attention. I gritted my teeth. No one needed to protect me, and I somehow doubted they’d be able to keep up with me while I trained with my pack out in the woods.

  I passed the sentries while heading toward the circular staircase.

  Did the sultan have several guards following Selena around too? Although, after seeing Selena’s dance, hinting of her fighting ability, I’d say she could more than handle herself. Images of her dancing in the skimpy costume came to the forefront of my memory, the way her breasts bounced, her curvy ass. Damn, she’d grown into a breathtaking wulfkin. She’d always been a stunning female with her large almond eyes, pouty lips, and a body to die for, but the real thing blew those memories away. Yet, considering how last night ended, with a weapon missing and her being potentially responsible for its disappearance, I had to get my head out of the gutter.

  Outside, I pulled the collar around my neck and hurried along a worn path in the snow toward the courtyard

  Ahead, a large crowd of fifty or so wulfkin huddled around the well, their whispers floating on the breeze. Several guards stomped their feet in the cold, while others were wrapped up in several layers of furs. Near the gate, two wulfkin were warming their hands in front of a brazier, sizzling with chestnuts. Tentacles of curling smoke wafted in the air. The rich and sweet aroma coaxed a growl from my stomach and put me back on the street corner of Vincent’s hometown, deep in the woods of Lapland in Finland. His mother had been roasting them when I arrived there, scouting for recruits, and every sentence from her lips was a variation of, “Would you like more food?”