The Alpha's Concubine (Historical Shifter Romance)

by Claudia King

  "You did not make this happen," Caspian said. He was trying to reassure her, she could tell, but despite his best attempts she could still hear the emotion in his voice. He was feeling the deaths of Hawk and Essie even more keenly than the pain of his wounds. "I tried to stop this before it happened. They did not even try to listen. None of them." He closed his eyes, squeezing Netya's hand tight with shaking fingers. "Perhaps Adel was right. It is pointless."

  "Is she..?"

  Caspian shook his head. "She lives. The poison was not enough to best her."

  Netya would not have thought herself capable of relief in that moment, but she felt it all the same. An aching hollow in her chest closed up a little, and she silently thanked the spirits for not taking away her mentor as well. Caspian embraced her again, and the two of them clung together in silence amidst the bloody scene. With their eyes closed, it was almost possible to remember the times they had embraced one another before this bloody day.

  Netya did not know how long they knelt there before Khelt arrived. When she opened her eyes, she saw his wolf standing there at the edge of the small clearing, his gaze fixed on his friend and his concubine as they held each other. Something about his expression made her tighten her grip on Caspian's shoulder for a moment. As soon as Khelt noticed her looking, he turned away.

  Leaving his wolf behind him, the alpha walked to the spot where Hawk and Essie lay. He knelt beside them, placing a hand on the old hunter's flank, and bowed his head in sorrow. The three of them did not speak for a long time, each needing room for their own emotions to breath.

  Fern caught up shortly after, and Netya finally released Caspian to greet her friend with more hugs and tears. Rather than suffering in silence, Fern kept her eyes averted from the bloody scene, recounting in a hurry everything that had happened over the past few days. Sensing her friend's attempts to distract herself, Netya went with her to search for any plants they might use to treat Caspian's wounds, leaving the male propped up against a tree after he insisted his injuries were not as serious as they looked.

  It helped her to keep busy, to focus on something she could do to help the situation rather than wallowing in grief. She was still afraid for Caspian. Afraid the hunters would return. Afraid of what might await her back at the outcrop. But at least she was no longer without hope. Adel was still alive, and her friends had come looking for her. The guilt of knowing that her salvation had been bought with the lives of Hawk and Essie weighed heavily upon her, but with Caspian injured and Fern distraught, there were more important people to focus on than herself at that moment.

  It did not take Netya long to identify a plant whose leaves could be used as a dressing to ward off infection, and after gathering up as many as they could find, along with some long blades of grass to help bind them in place, they returned to the clearing. Caspian was still pale, but the bleeding of his wounds had slowed down. Khelt had moved the bodies aside and covered them with branches. Before Netya knelt down to tend Caspian, the alpha stopped her and handed over a small leather pouch. She recognised it before he even said a word.

  "The older man was carrying it. It may have what you need."

  Her eyes became dewy again as she undid the small wooden toggle and peered inside. Her uncle had always carried a small collection of practical tools with him wherever he went. A knife, a fire-making stone from which sparks could be struck, several pieces of dried meat, some rough yarn, and a length of animal sinew with a sharp needle.

  "That man," Netya said thinly, clearing her throat before Khelt turned away. "He was my uncle."

  Khelt nodded, his expression as sombre as his voice. "I am sorry."

  "Among my people, he was like their alpha."

  He paused, his jaw tightening. "Thank you for telling me this. Tend to Caspian now." Khelt stepped away and disappeared between the bushes, leaving the three of them alone. Netya did not know whether to be concerned or reassured by his stoic attitude, but there was little space left in her heart to worry over it.

  Kneeling down, she instructed Fern to twist the grass they had collected and the yarn from her uncle's pouch into bindings, before taking the needle and sinew to stitch Caspian's gashes closed. She had only ever watched the other seers perform the task before, but she swallowed her discomfort, washing the wounds out with the remaining contents of her waterskin in preparation for what was to follow. She was surprised to find that her hands remained steady once she had begun, and she tried to make the stitches as quick and painless as possible. Caspian did not utter a sound of protest, but she felt his body tense in discomfort several times. She placed a soothing hand on his chest in between stitches, drawing as much comfort from his presence as she hoped he did from hers. The throb of his heartbeat was strong and steady. He was not going to allow himself to slip away from her.

  "Why did you run away?" Fern asked eventually.

  "We can talk of this later," Caspian murmured. "There will be a better time for it than now."

  "I wanted to get a medicine from my people that could save Adel. I was afraid to linger while the others believed me responsible for what happened. I was hasty and foolish."

  "You could not have known the den mother would recover," Fern said gently, squeezing her friend's shoulder. "I think you acted very bravely."

  "I thought I could make it back in time if I had a wolf to speed me across the plains," Netya continued, pausing between stitches as her fingers tightened around the needle. "But I trusted the wrong one. Vaya agreed to help me, and I was abandoned by her as soon as we reached the village." A moment of silence followed, before Netya added, "I believe she poisoned Adel."

  "Vaya would never dare," Fern gasped.

  "She might," Caspian said, "if she believed the blame would fall on someone she disliked." He winced as the next stitch pierced his side. "The question is whether she has the cunning for such a scheme."

  "My people thought I had become one of you," Netya said. "Vaya left me at their mercy."

  "The alpha must act against her this time," Fern whispered. "She has gone too far."

  Caspian grimaced. "I fear it will once again be Netya's word against hers. But that is not what we should be dwelling on right now." He gestured to where Hawk and Essie's bodies lay, a short distance from the others.

  Khelt reappeared from the bushes with several dry branches under one arm, then began snapping them roughly into pieces. He built the wood in a stack near the centre of the clearing, then disappeared to collect more.

  "Hawk and Essie need a pyre," Caspian said. "We cannot leave them for the Sun People to claim as trophies."

  "What if the hunters return?" Netya said.

  "They did not look like they planned on returning when I saw them flee," Fern said. "But I will find somewhere nearby to keep watch."

  Caspian nodded. "Help Khelt collect wood once you are done with me. We must send our brother and sister to join the spirits in the custom they deserve."

  Netya finished her stitching, tying the sinew in place as best as she remembered, then made poultices from the leaves she had gathered with Fern. Once she had bound two of them in place around Caspian's leg and arm, she left him to clutch the third dressing against his side. He leant back against the tree and closed his eyes, giving his resilient body the time it needed to knit itself back together. Netya was thankful he was one of the Moon People. She would not have felt nearly so confident about a man of her own kind recovering from such wounds.

  She placed a kiss on Caspian's forehead, then made her way back to the river to refill her waterskin and search for wood. Fern had run back to the open plains to keep watch, and Khelt was dealing with his grief alone as he busied himself with building the pyre. Poor Khelt. He could not share his sorrow as openly as Caspian had. It was not in his nature.

  Of all the things Netya had come to realise about the alpha, first and foremost was that his status made him different from other men. Perhaps there had been a time when he was not like this, but ever since their visit to
the cave of alphas it had slowly become clear how significant Khelt's duty was to him. Even if deep down he desired to share his innermost feelings with her, he had trained himself to keep such things hidden. An alpha could show no weakness, and he seemed incapable of breaking the barrier he had built to restrain his heart.

  Netya respected him for the burden he bore, and yet she could not help but feel sorry for him. When the alpha saw Caspian embracing her, had he been resentful of the bond they shared?

  She hoped he understood.

  It took all morning to build the pyre, but there was no sign of either hunting party returning while they lingered. The fire needed to be large and burn hot, and Netya was exhausted by the time she and Khelt had hauled enough suitable wood back to the clearing. The alpha stacked the driest logs in a sturdy lattice, before surrounding it with the greener ones. They built up the pyre until it was large enough to burn for many hours, then called Fern back to say farewell to their fallen brethren.

  As Khelt bore Hawk and Essie's bodies to the pyre, Netya knelt beside her uncle and placed his leather pouch back on his chest, looking upon the old man's face one last time. The pair of them had never been intimately close, but she understood now that he had always been a fair and well-intentioned leader. He had never given a lecture when it was not needed, never administered a punishment that had not been earned. He had always been a part of Netya's life, and now, much like everything from the village she had grown up in, he was lost to her.

  She said goodbye to more than just the man lying before her as she wiped the blood from his face and arranged his clothing to cover the horrendous wound in his neck. The pyre's smoke would call the hunters back to find the two remaining bodies, and they would be sent along the river on rafts of flowers in the tradition of her people.

  There would be many more tears for her to shed over what she had lost in the past two days. Months, years from now, her heart would still ache with the memories. There would be times when she would fall asleep crying, or wake up dreaming of the embrace of her mother, or long to know what fine young women her sisters had grown into. She did not need the visions of a seer to realise these things.

  She wept only a little, but her eyes were already sore. All she wanted now was to go home. Not the home she had been born to, but a home all the same. Even if Caspian, Fern, and Khelt were the only ones who still welcomed her, she longed to return. Her body and soul felt drained of all they were able to give.

  Khelt used her uncle's knife and kindling stone to drive sparks into the tinder at the base of the pyre, then stepped back with the others to watch as it took flame. Netya stood between Fern and Caspian, supporting him with one arm as they watched the flames grow and curl around the bodies of the two wolves. She remembered Hawk's strength and leadership. Essie's love for their daughter. They had been good people, undeserving of this fate. Now their souls would dance together in the spirit world.

  When the greener branches began to catch, a thick plume of smoke rose from the clearing. If it did not call the hunters back within the next few hours, the glow of the flames would once night fell. They remained at the edge of the clearing for a short while longer, before Khelt turned and led them away in silence.

  They made a sombre procession back to the edge of the river to drink, before returning to the open plains. Despite Netya's concern, Caspian insisted he was well enough to travel. He could recover properly once they were safe within their own territory, he said. With Netya riding upon Fern's back and Caspian upon Khelt's, the weary group set out back in the direction of the outcrop.

  As Netya watched the edge of the forest disappearing behind them, she knew her life as one of the Sun People had come to an end.

  —41—

  Reunion

  Despite being weary, Khelt and Fern ran all afternoon and into the evening. It seemed that none of them wanted to spend another night out in the wilderness, and despite Netya's best efforts to tend Caspian's wounds, he would still need a more experienced healer to examine him sooner rather than later. The moon was out that evening, and as they approached the outcrop Khelt let out a long howl to announce their return. It was echoed a few moments later by whoever was keeping watch, signalling that they had been spotted.

  By the time they reached the bottom of the slope a small crowd had gathered, but they hung back in anticipation, unsure of what was about to greet them. Netya should have been anxious. After all, the pack had thought her a traitor just a day earlier. But as she dismounted and helped Caspian down from Khelt's back, she could only respond to the spiteful looks being shot her way with a glower of her own. She had no patience for their suspicion. Lives had been lost that morning.

  The ride had left Caspian weak, and the wound in his side had begun bleeding again, but he still had the presence of mind to pause when he saw Hawk and Essie's daughter, Wren, waiting at the front of the group. He motioned Fern over and leaned in close.

  "Tell her gently, somewhere away from the others."

  Fern's eyes widened slightly. "Me?"

  "She has always been fond of you, and I fear none of us understand what she must now face better than yourself," Caspian said.

  The expression of fear that crossed Fern's face mirrored that of the girl waiting for her parents. Netya wanted to insist that she break the news in her friend's stead, but she held her sympathy in check. Fern could not have been much younger than Wren when she lost her own parents. If ever there had been a time for her to share the one thing she never spoke of, it was now.

  Fern hesitated, but when she looked at the worried young girl gazing past them, searching for two more figures that would never arrive, she swallowed her fear and hurried up the slope, ignoring the others as she led Wren back toward the camp.

  Netya turned Caspian's chin toward her and kissed his cheek. Even when he was barely able to stand by himself, bleeding and exhausted, his kindness and understanding shone through. She would never have thought to suggest Fern be the one to break the news to Hawk and Essie's daughter, but now she could think of no wiser choice.

  Khelt approached the pack, straightening up and squaring his jaw as he prepared to deliver the news they all waited on. He made it quick and simple, his voice betraying little emotion. Two of their pack were gone, and two of the Sun People lay dead with them. He did not mention that one of them had been their leader, or that Netya had been found and brought home safely. Her presence spoke for itself, and she doubted drawing attention to it would do much to ease the pack's burden of grief. Some of them would blame her for what happened. She could see it even as Khelt spoke. Hawk and Essie had gone out to find her, and they had died for it.

  Before the alpha could even finish, the crowd parted as someone pushed through from the back. She was having difficulty walking, her face still pale and her dark hair tangled, but even when she was hobbling with the aid of a tree branch to prop her up, Adel commanded a respectful silence from the crowd.

  The den mother ignored those around her, walking straight past the alpha to Netya and pulling her away from Caspian into an embrace. Without fully understanding why, Netya found herself hugging her mentor back, filled with such relief that she had to struggle to keep her eyes dry.

  Then she remembered the familiarity of the embrace. When she had been lost and afraid in the spirit world, it had been these arms that held her. There had been a reason Netya risked so much in her attempt to save the den mother. She may not have realised it, but a bond had formed between them in the months they had spent together. Their reunion said everything it needed to without a word being said.

  Though Netya felt the sincerity in Adel's embrace, she realised it also served another purpose. In one simple action, she had demonstrated her faith in her apprentice's innocence to the pack. After witnessing such a show of affection, who would dare voice their own suspicions aloud?

  "If any of this was your doing, Witch," Khelt murmured, his voice low enough that no one else would hear, "I will see my pack rid of you for it."r />
  Netya's blood ran cold for a moment, but the alpha was already walking away, approaching his people as they clustered around their leader.

  Adel scowled after him. "And he seeks to blame me again for those who died under his leadership."

  "Not now," Netya whispered. "No one is to blame, Khelt is just upset." She tugged the den mother away, and she reluctantly acquiesced. At a call from Adel, two of the seers hurried forward to take Caspian away from Netya and help him up the slope. She clung to his hand longer than she should have until their fingers parted. She would have stayed with him all night, but she knew his wounds needed proper care.

  "Tell me what happened, and why you ran," Adel said.

  Once more, Netya recounted the events that had occurred the night the den mother was poisoned, leaving out the painful details of the reunion with her mother. She was still not ready to speak of what had happened back in the village. The hurt was simmering in her heart, waiting to harrow her again, but she would not speak of it this night. As she talked, many more curious ears began listening in, and soon half the pack was hanging on her every word.

  Before she reached the end of the tale, she fished inside her clothing for the small bag of seeds that had been paid for with so much blood.

  Adel took it from her and examined the contents, nodding slowly in approval. "I may not have needed them this time, but these seeds will still be valuable to us. I shall have my seers become familiar with them. In the years to come, they may save other lives."

  The only other part of the story Netya refrained from mentioning was Vaya's involvement. Her instinct was to keep it a secret for now, to tread carefully, but she quickly realised that the question of how she had travelled back home was one that would need answering. When she caught sight of Vaya's face among the crowd, the eyes of the huntress glaring at her in distaste, she no longer cared for caution.