“I’d gathered that he’s not one to lose sleep over much, other than his hatred of his only daughter,” said Gwynne. “So why did you want to meet me?”
“Because I want you to know that you and the wolf clan aren’t entirely alone in your fight. There are others like me, you see. Who want to help. Who want to see a new era of shifters take over and stop the conflict between our people.”
“Where are these others?” asked Gwynne.
“Everywhere. Let’s just say that we’re a little scattered for now, but there are communications between us all. And quite frankly, many of your father’s servants won’t last long. He pays them; they mostly work as mercenaries. But one day his funds will run out and he will be alone.”
“So you’re saying he doesn’t have a loyal army, as the wolves do?”
“No, he does not.”
Bree interrupted, gesturing towards Cynric. “How can we trust this…man, this flyer, my lady? We’ve never met him. He purports to be good, but he could be a spy.” Gwynne thought she heard a low growl after the word “spy.”
“I will earn your trust,” he said. “I will work with you, but only from afar. And you will see that I mean well. My greatest wish is for our people to enjoy the freedom that they should. Flyers should not be held captive, forced for financial reasons to fight for a drake who does nothing for our country but kill its residents and ruin its inhabitants’ lives. You see, it’s in my best interests to make our kind known as peaceful and good. We have a reputation that will be difficult to mend, but I’d like to start.”
He looked at Bree for a moment and smiled. If Gwynne hadn’t known better she would have accused the dire wolf shifter of blushing then. Cynric was, after all, a very handsome man, and had a noble air about him. Surely even Bree was susceptible to male charms.
Gwynne thought for a moment. “Cynric, would you be willing to meet with the alphas, if I set it up?”
He hesitated before replying.
“I would,” he said. “But not just yet. I don’t wish for our small rebel army to be made known until we have something to offer, and I don’t want the alphas to think of us as a threat. We’re still gathering. If you would allow it, I wish to continue their training before making any proposals to your mates.”
So Gwynne had a secret from Rauth and Lachlan, and Bree would have to keep it as well—for now. Well, God knows they alphas had kept enough from her.
“Fair enough,” she said. “But will you keep in touch with me somehow? Let me know how things are progressing? It’s important for all of us.” Inadvertently she laid a hand on her belly as if to remind herself of who was the most important of all.
“Of course, my lady. I’ll do my best. Perhaps the Lady Bree could act as an envoy of sorts for us.”
This time Bree most certainly blushed. She wasn’t accustomed to being referred to as a “lady,” and the thought of secret meetings with this odd flyer sent goosebumps down her spine.
“I suppose that would be acceptable,” she said, attempting to sound reluctant.
Gwynne rose and said, “That sounds fine. But I think I should go back now, before they miss me. I will do what I can to help the town and its people; I may even pay my father a visit one of these days.”
“Be very careful, my Lady,” Cynric said, rising to walk her to the door. “Though he’s your kin, he’s not kind. His drake rules his mind and there is very little left in him that is human.”
“Is that,” she asked, “what will eventually become of me, I wonder?”
Cynric looked sympathetic. “Your mother, from what I understand, was a good and kind woman. I suspect that you are more of her ilk than your father’s, whatever your déor may be.”
“I hope so.”
“My Lady, remember who you are, and who your mates are. Remember that your allies are the merchants and farmers who live around here. You are their protectors and the keepers of this land. Your father is not.”
“Thank you,” said Gwynne. “I will remember that.”
With that, Gwynne and Bree left him and began the walk back to Dundurn, each woman contemplative for her own reasons.
What the man had said was right, thought Gwynne: she and her mates were protectors. More human than animal. She had only to hope that when the time came, the alphas would remember it too.
* * *
Kinship 7
“It seems that the Lord Drake has been tormenting the people of Trekilling,” Lachlan told his cousin the following afternoon. He’d gone to seek Rauth against his better judgment, if only to help protect Gwynne. He continued, “Gwynne, I think, wants to take on her father. He’s been destroying property, ruining livelihoods. He needs to be stopped. But we can’t allow her to get involved in such an altercation, especially in her present state. It would be folly.”
“No, we can’t,” agreed Rauth. The two rarely saw eye to eye on anything other than Gwynne’s well-being these days, but her protection was a simple topic as far as each man was concerned. “And if we can’t take Lord Drake down before the baby is born, we must protect our child by sending him away after he’s born.”
“What? You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, but I am. And once we’re able to move him, the boy will be sent to be a ward for a time with one of the shifters up on the northern borders. He needs to learn to fight, to shift, away from all of this; hidden from prying eyes. Away from our battles.” Rauth stood over the enormous oak table in the war room, his eyes fixed on a map of the territory.
“You do not know that it will be a boy, Rauth,” said Lachlan. “And you can’t take a child from its mother. You should know that, after what Gwynne went through with her own parents. This is not your decision to make.”
Lachlan’s voice was strong, loud. He was angry and frustrated, and as always taking on the role of rational voice to his cousin’s, which at the moment seemed inhumanly cold.
“Gwynne was born in a different era,” said Rauth. “This sort of child-rearing has been done for generations and shall still be done in our time. I myself was raised by someone other than my parents, in case you don’t recall.”
“I do, and well. And look how you turned out,” said Lachlan, his voice filled with cynicism.
“What exactly are you suggesting?”
“That you are cold as ice, Rauth. That you deny human emotion, as though it is only your wolf that matters.”
“Human emotion is a necessary weakness of we shifters, but shouldn’t lead our decision-making. I am thinking of the future. We alphas are all about the good of our clan, are we not?”
“Yes, we are. And I don’t think it’s in the clan’s best interests to upset our queen, or to alienate our young. Gwynne’s already been through so much, and has a good deal to contend with yet. Besides, we—and she—can protect our young better than anyone can. And instruct as well.”
“Gwynne will see that it is best for him to be taken away, once he is born.”
“I think you’re wrong. In fact, I know you are. But perhaps you should tell her your intentions now. Because I don’t think you understand—”
“No,” said Rauth, his palms flat against the wood before him. “I won’t tell her now. It would be imprudent.”
“Because you know how she’ll feel. You know that she’ll hate the idea, and likely hate you as well. And me,” said Lachlan. “Don’t forget that her own mother disappeared. Gwynne will never willingly part with a child. She wouldn’t inflict that sort of rejection on anyone, let alone her own offspring.”
Rauth slammed his fist on the table. “It is not her choice, is it?” he asked, knowing the answer in his heart. Of course it was. He would do anything to make her happy. But the issue wasn’t one of happiness. All of this—every bit of it—had been for the sake of his clan. They all had to make sacrifices.
“We’ll discuss this when you’ve calmed down, cousin,” said Lachlan, his voice steady. “Meanwhile there is the small matter of last night’s attack.”
The flyers had destroyed a large chunk of the castle’s wall the previous night, and now word would get out that Gwynne had survived the attack. And so the flyers would come again, looking for new ways to harm the cwen.
“If only she were able to fight,” said Rauth. “She would be the best weapon that we have. She could take their entire army down…”
“No.” Now it was Lachlan’s voice which crescendoed, authority and resolve echoing through the room. “It would be too great a risk. She is our lover, not a bloody nuclear bomb.”
“I think, cousin, that in your mind, Gwynne walking down a cobblestone street would be too great a risk. You dote and fret, and you give her little credit to look after herself.”
“Perhaps. But here you are suggesting that she fly into the face of danger. It’s foolishness. Even if she were not pregnant, I would not allow it…”
“Ah, so now it is you who holds dominion over her?”
“No. Of course not. She is her own woman. No one knows that so well as I do.”
“Whatever the case,” said Rauth, “she would be fine.”
“I won’t risk it. I won’t risk her life or our child’s. I will not lose her.”
“You will most certainly lose her forever,” said a voice from the doorway. “If you two persist in this sort of talk.”
Gwynne was standing, white fingers grasping the iron door handle as she fought back her dragon. The beast within her wanted nothing more in the moment than to spring forth in defense, to take down those who would threaten her young.
“My Lady,” said Rauth in a rare show of submission. “We were just…”
“I know what you were just doing, Rauth. I know that you were conspiring to steal my child—our child—from me, not to mention behaving as though I’m a tool in your war.” Her voice trembled. “I know. I’ve sworn every hour of every day that I wouldn’t leave you, ever. But what choice would I have if you did this to me?”
“I would not take a child away permanently, Gwynne. Surely you’re aware of that by now.”
“Oh, right. Only for his or her formative years. Only when we should bond. Only when our offspring needs a mother the most…You are no better than my father, Rauth. And look at him now. He will no doubt die alone, up in that castle in the middle of nowhere. Is that the life you want for yourself?” She advanced to the table where he stood, and looked at the map before him.
A solitary structure was drawn in one area of Cornwall east of Dundurn, and Gwynne knew what it was: the castle Carrfyr, her father’s home. “This,” she said, her index finger jabbing at it, “Is the only thing you should concern yourself with. I will not let the creature within its walls ruin my life again. I won’t. If you take my child away you will never see me again.”
Lachlan stepped forward then.
“Gwynne…” he began, attempting to diffuse the tension in the room.
“What, Lachlan? Are you going to take his side now?” she asked. “Because if you do…” She didn’t know how to finish the sentence; anger had overtaken her senses.
“Of course not. I want you, and our child, by my side. Always. But you must know one thing: this child will never be entirely safe, not as long as the Lord Drake, your father, knows where he is. He, like you, will always be hunted.”
“Then perhaps the bastard of a hunter needs to be taken down a notch,” said Gwynne. “He may be my father, but I wish he would cease to exist.”
She turned and left the room, shutting the door hard behind her.
Lachlan too left after a few moments, his cousin grinding his jaw as his déor fought his humanity in an internal struggle. The human in Rauth loved Gwynne endlessly. The wolf within him, its instincts intact, wished to protect his young and in his mind that meant hiding the child from its one predator. And the wolf overpowered the man on almost every count.
Love was for the weak. It never saved lives; it didn’t feed armies. Why could Lachlan not see it?
At some point after the child was born, he told himself, a true alpha would have to be chosen. There was no longer a need for two men to share the burden. Besides, Lachlan was no leader. He was too prone to affection, to weakness. He did not understand sacrifice.
Rauth did.
* * *
Kinship 8
Gwynne wasn’t thinking clearly. Deep inside, her drake was taking over her mind, strategizing within her, considering its inevitable movements. This will not do, it seemed to say.
She made her way quickly down the hall away from the alphas. After a time she heard rapid footsteps following her and turned to face her pursuer.
“Gwynne.”
Lachlan was studying her face, attempting to read any thoughts concealed beneath an exterior of resolve.
So, he’d followed her.
“You must know,” he said, “I will never support separating you from our young. Never.”
“It’s all right,” she said quietly, a frosty tinge to her voice. “I’m not angry. In a sense you’re both right. This place is too dangerous, with this sort of siege that the flyers are laying on us. My father holds the power and until that ends, there will be no life, no freedom for any of Dundurn’s residents.”
“We will find a way,” said Lachlan. “We’ll defeat him, somehow. Bring down his army. Rauth has been working on it for months.”
“That’s good,” said Gwynne absently. “Tell him to keep working. Tell him to find a solution. But stealing my young is not an option.” With that she forced her best smile and turned to walk away. Lachlan could only watch her and hope that she would calm down before her déor led her into any foolishness.
* * *
This must not continue, Gwynne told herself. This dominance over her life, the fear instilled by the great fire-breather who lived in the castle Carrfyr. The Lord Drake, her father, needed to be dealt with, and now. Whether he was her kin or not he had no right to terrorize her or her people. He would not cause her to lose her child as she had lost her mother, and as her mother had lost her. He was a tyrannical figure, and Gwynne wanted at last to meet the man who seemed to feel such disdain for his own daughter and now, even for his grandchild. She wanted to look into his eyes and see what sort of a monster was capable of such a disregard for others.
She didn’t know where her mother was, or if she would ever see her again. But all she could do now was try to hold her own small family together. To end the madness so that she could nurture her baby. Her child.
You’re the most powerful shifter.
They had been Lachlan’s words to her. She was the one. Not the wolves. Not her father. He was simply a deluded, twisted soul whose time had come and gone. He cared status and power far more than his own flesh and blood, and there was no way in hell that she was going to watch her mates resort to the same tactics. She was not a pawn in their game, but flesh, blood and human emotion.
She stormed down hallway after hallway until she reached the castle’s giant front door.
“Open it,” she ordered the two guards who flanked it. They looked at one another and one began to speak; a mistake he quickly remedied by shutting his mouth. Silently he pulled open the great door.
Gwynne marched through, tearing at her clothing until she stood naked in the courtyard. Her mind raced, considering the health of the baby inside her, growing each day, feeding off its mother’s strength. She asked her déor for guidance: “Is it safe?”
The dragon within her told her that it was indeed, wordlessly reassuring her with a heat which surged up through her human form.
She shifted and within seconds was soaring through the air.
* * *
An hour later, Lachlan’s mind turned to his and Rauth’s
mate, and terrible thoughts began to tear at his insides. He sent a guard to tell his cousin to meet him at Gwynne’s chamber.
“Where is she?” Rauth asked when he arrived.
Lachlan stood in the doorway, staring blankly at the empty room. “I don’t know,” he said. “We shouldn’t have let her run off. The fact is that she’s not entirely herself. Pregnant—suppressing her drake’s form—she could do something rash.”
For once, Rauth couldn’t disagree. Nor could he simply delegate Lachlan the task of finding Gwynne. This was his responsibility, too. The child inside her was as much his as his cousin’s.
The two ran through Dundurn to the front gates and found the guards who had watched their queen shift.
“I don’t know where she went,” said one. “All I can tell you is that she flew…east.” The man seemed to cower as the word “flew” emerged from his lips. But he couldn’t have done anything to stop Gwynne’s transformation.
“East,” said Lachlan. “What were you thinking, man? Why didn’t you come find us?” He reached for the guard and Rauth held him back, saying, “Easy, cousin. He couldn’t have known.”
“You think she’s gone to see her father,” said Lachlan, knowing the answer.
“Of course. And we cannot get to him. Or her.”
“Perhaps not. But we can try. We must.”
The two men disrobed and shifted as the guards opened the gate for them. It would be a long run, but the alphas had no choice. To abandon Gwynne now would be akin to murder.
* * *
During the journey Gwynne’s mind was filled with a strange mix of anger and curiosity. She’d waited so long to meet her father, the man she’d never known. The man her mother had known, and perhaps even loved, but who had betrayed her. The man who had lost all reason and capacity for rational behaviour. And who was unkind at best and a murderer at worst.
Sought by the Alphas Complete Boxed Set: A Paranormal Romance Serial Page 24