Lust Potion For the Alpha

by Alice Coldbreath

  “Jorah’s mother. Her name was Frieda.”

  Issy’s thoughts flew to her stunning portrait in the gallery. Jorah had inherited her fierce cold eyes and red-gold colouring.

  “Sadly, her mothering instinct was not strong,” continued Cedric. “She was not a nurturer.” He shook his head. “Her union with Joffrey was not a happy one.”

  “Jorah’s father?”

  “Their mating was a matter of pack alliance. It was not borne of affection.”

  “But once they were mated..?”

  “Frieda felt trapped here at Varkash. She missed our old pack. She was an artist. She made the stained glass in the windows. Beautiful is it not?”

  “Very,” agreed Issy automatically. She frowned. “She surely did not leave? Not with three sons?”

  Cedric steepled his fingers.

  “Several times I’m afraid,” he admitted gravely. “It caused very bad feeling between the packs.”

  “I didn’t think … once a couple were mated that could happen?”

  “She always returned, but it was done grudgingly and with ill-grace. She made poor Joffrey’s married life a misery. She had no time for any of their sons.”

  Issy fell back in her chair, taking this in. She imagined Jorah as a little boy and felt a pang.

  “I’m afraid that Jorah’s pattern for the perfect mate is based on the mirror opposite of Frieda.” He shot her a narrow look. “Probably why he decided on a human bride.”

  Issy digested this slowly.

  “Ran did say I was the first human in the family.”

  “He was correct.”

  Cedric watched her reaction covertly as he sipped at his juice.

  “So… when Jorah says he wants a biddable wife,” puzzled out Issy. “It’s because his own mother led his father a merry dance.”

  Cedric choked on her choice of words.

  “You make it sound much more jovial than it was. Growing up he and Baris knew nothing but domestic strife. Ran mercifully remembers very little.”

  “I see.” She supposed it made sense. “And yet you chose to stay at Varkash?”

  “Oh yes,” he nodded. “I’ve always been something of an oddity among my kind with my love of books and learning. I found I fitted in better here than in my original pack. Plus,” he shrugged. “My nephews needed me. After Frieda died, Joffrey was distraught. In spite of everything. He only outlived her by a twelve-month.”

  “That’s sad,” reflected Issy. “So you were a something of a surrogate parent for the three boys.”

  “I did my humble best,” he murmured. “But I don’t flatter myself that a dry old scholar such as myself was much of a substitute sadly.” He gave her a level look. “I think Jorah, on some level at least, must have realised you have everything he has ever wanted.”

  Issy thought uneasily of the potion bottle hidden in her drawer. It was a nice theory but she doubted it very much. She gave Cedric a strained smile. In spite of everything she rather liked Jorah’s eccentric uncle.

  “That’s sweet of you to say, uncle Cedric. I hope I can make him happy. But in my father’s house my practical skills were prized. They were my strong suit.” She hesitated. “You see, my sister was the beauty of the family. If Jorah doesn’t want me to organise his household then…”

  “Oh you must carry on of course!” enthused Uncle Cedric. “You’ve made such an interesting start. It’s the talk of the village. Apparently word has even spread as far as the neighbouring packs.”

  Issy plunked her glass down.

  “How?”

  “Well, your ex-housekeeper has now defected to the Canagan pack, apparently she’s been busy.”

  Issy stared.

  “Bronwen? And how – do you know all this Uncle Cedric?”

  “Well, my dear, I didn’t completely sever all contact with my old pack.” He smirked at her surprised face. “And from what I hear, we may even have one or two come along to your Banquet net week.”

  “From the Canagan pack?” Issy asked her eyes opening wide. “Who?”

  He coughed delicately.

  “Young Geoffrey has a sweetheart I believe.”

  “Geoffrey?”

  He nodded his head.

  “I believe he wants to introduce her to his er… mother.”

  Issy gave a surprised smile.

  “That’s sweet.”

  “And possibly a few ex-pack members who may regret defecting before Jorah’s return.” He drained his glass with relish. “Of course, you realise all eyes will be on you.”

  Issy lowered her drink and pulled a wry face.

  “Thanks for the warning Uncle.”

  He chuckled,

  “You’d do well to be prepared.”

  “Do you think it’s a good idea? A banquet with all the tenants and pack sat together in one place, here at Jorah’s table?” she pushed. She gave him a challenging look suddenly realising that she wanted him to declare himself unequivocally as on her camp.

  “I think it’s your official debut at Jorah’s side,” he said dryly. “And your chance to show everyone exactly how things stand between you.”

  It was three weeks later when Issy stashed her latest letter from Miriam in her drawer and made her way across the newly decorated master bedroom. All of their things had been transferred to their new rooms as well as some large handsome pieces of furniture she’d found in the attic that had just needed new upholstering. She and Matilda had been fiendishly busy the last month getting things ready for the Harvest feast. The Keep had been a hive of activity. Dilys had been roasting and baking constantly for the last two weeks non-stop. Matilda had polished every piece of silver in the castle and every wooden floorboard. Isolde had stitched curtains and cushions and banners and pelmets in order to get the place looking its best. They had known no rest. Even Alfric and Geoffrey had joined in with the cleaning, so large an undertaking it had been! But it had been worth it, she told herself with satisfaction. Even Jorah had been taken aback by the result of their efforts. Uncle Cedric himself had said Varkash had never looked so grand. Moira the new maid from the village had made a huge arrangement of plaited loaves and wheat and fruit platters to adorn the long tables set up in the great hall and stacked high with plates and polished pewter service. Isolde turned in her seat as the bedroom door opened behind her and Jorah entered. She swivelled back to face the mirror,

  “I was starting to wonder where you’d got to! I’ve put out your change of clothes…”

  He came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

  “Just having a quick word with Ran and Geoffrey,” he said looking at her dress appreciatively in the mirror. “Very nice.”

  “You don’t think it’s too low?” she asked anxiously.

  He ran a finger along the neckline making her shiver.

  “Only if you were going somewhere without me,” he said leaning down and placing a kiss on her neck.

  “What were you talking to Ran and Geoffrey about?” she asked with a sudden frown. “They haven’t fallen out again surely? I thought …”

  “No, no nothing like that,” he said absently. “I just wanted a quick word about the new maid. The human one.”

  “Moira? Whatever for?”

  He met her puzzled gaze in the mirror.

  “Because after all your hard work I don’t want past mistakes repeated. They’re both young and unmated …”

  “Oh,” comprehension hit. “Well, I don’t think you need to worry Jorah..”

  “No, apparently not,” he agreed. “Ran says she’s ugly and Geoffrey…”

  “… is courting,” finished Issy nodding in agreement. “Although Ran should not say poor Moira is ugly. She’s not ugly. Just a trifle… plain,” she stated firmly.

  “How did you know Geoffrey is courting?” asked Jorah drawing a gold chain which flashed with red stones from his pocket.

  “Oh, one hears these things,” she said airily watching him as he placed the necklace around her
throat and fastened it. “I don’t want to give away my sources… Is it a problem she’s from another pack?” she asked.

  He gave a quick shake of his head,

  “How do you like it?” he asked as her hand flew to touch the gold filigree and large red rubies.

  “It’s beautiful Jorah.”

  “It was my mother’s,” he said shortly. “And now it’s yours.”

  “Mine?” she breathed. “It’s gorgeous.”

  He drew something else from his pocket,

  “This is new. I wasn’t quite prepared for the wedding day but I understand a ring is customary…”

  She held out her left hand and he slid the slid the thick gold band onto her third finger. The gold glinted there almost up to her knuckle. “Now everyone can see,” he told her in a low voice. She looked back over her shoulder.

  “Thank you Jorah.” She took his hand in both of hers. “I’ll do my best to make you proud.”

  “You always do.”

  She swallowed feeling a sudden lump in her throat. He tugged on her hands drawing her to her feet.

  “Ready to face our guests?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” she joked. “Have you met our temporary kitchen staff?” she chattered nervously as they made their way along the corridor. “Their father spared all four of them from The Lamb & Goat for the evening to serve for us so Dilys, Matilda and Moira can join in the festivities.”

  “Aye, they’re handsome girls,” he murmured. “It’s lucky the youngest is so ill-favoured or having her under our roof could cause us problems.”

  “She’s not ill favoured, Jorah,” protested Issy in defence of the youngest and fifth sister. “She’s just shy and a little awkward…” Issy let her words fall away as they reached the gallery over looking the Great Hall. Jorah led her right up to the rail and their guests below all broke out in a spontaneous applause as he raised her hand high in greeting. Issy felt her breath catch as she looked down on people gathered below, all their faces shining in the candlelight. It looked so beautiful and everyone was smiling and cheering. She felt her eyes well up. She felt at home, she realised. She hadn’t thought of her father’s house as home once in the last couple of weeks. Varkash was her home now. When had that happened? she wondered in a daze as her husband led her down the steps and up to the head table. Alfric, Baris and Ran sat there with Uncle Cedric all awaiting her arrival. They stood as she approached making sure she had a nod and a smile for all they passed. She could see the Ropers were there with their grandsons and some of the other boys she vaguely recognised as being ex-pages. They were all accompanied by their families from their farms. Dilys was sat flanked by her two mates Jed and Roland from the stables. Geoffrey was sat between his mother and a dark haired girl with amber eyes who watched Isolde with an openly curious expression. To her right were two large males Issy had never met before but she saw Jorah nod to them in greeting and guessed they must be from the Canagan pack. There were scores of people she barely recognised, although the odd face stood out. Mrs Hodniss the laundress with her comely daughters and their families. Everyone there had some connection with Varkash or owed their livelihood to the estate. There were even some villagers present including the pub’s landlord. His four lively daughters entered bearing platters of food which they began to distribute among the tables. Jorah pronounced everyone welcome in a ringing voice and then they were seated. Issy was astonished to hear the strum of a lute starting up and then a melodious voice began to sing a ballad she recognised as a singing troupe began to weave in and out of the tables with their lutes and timbrels and brightly coloured clothes. Her mouth opened in an ‘oh’ as she turned to face Jorah.

  “Music!” she breathed happily. “Oh it’s beautiful!”

  He smirked.

  “Listen,” he said angling his head. “This song’s written just for you.”

  Issy craned her ears and realised that though the tune was familiar the song lyrics had been altered so the refrain was to ‘Fair Isolde, Lady of Varkash’. She blushed. Although familiar with the practise of tailoring songs to one’s hosts she had never had a song dedicated to her beauty before. The lyrics were piling it on a bit thick she thought with embarrassment as the lead singer’s pure voice sang out about her spurned ex-lovers expiring from broken hearts and withering away with disappointment. She shot a look at her brother-in-laws. Ran was openly laughing and Baris looked like he was finding it hard to keep a straight face.

  “I never thought we’d have players at Varkash, brother” he said shaking his head.

  Jorah shrugged.

  “Issy likes it,” he said by way of explanation.

  “I do,” she agreed stoutly, picking up her knife and cutting a piece of meat. “I’ve missed hearing my sister’s sweet singing voice.”

  Jorah winced.

  “Aye, I remember it,” he agreed grimly.

  “You did not enjoy her singing?” she asked startled.

  “I had a headache,” he reminded her.

  “Oh yes.” She found herself assailed by unpleasant memories of that accursed lust potion.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked her squeezing her knee under the table.

  “Nothing at all,” she told him with a reassuring smile but the truth was she couldn’t help thinking uneasily back to that night at her father’s feast by way of contrast. So much had changed since then, she told herself firmly. Surely Jorah now appreciated her for herself and not just her sly deception? Still, a little voice in her head whispered she would never have secured so fine a bridegroom without the aid of that wicked potion. All of this she thought looking round at the flickering hall around her, the hub-bub of talk and laughter, is built on a falsehood. If only he knew… He would not be looking at her with such a steady gaze of admiration she thought unhappily as he urged everyone to be upstanding and raise a toast to his wife. She stood smiling in acknowledgement of everyone’s toast, raising her own glass to bid them all welcome. She could feel the Canagan representatives eyes on her and wondered what they made of such a plain and dumpy little human having secured such a fine husband. Did they wonder what spell he’d fallen under? She didn’t even bring him a decent dowry, she thought fingering the links of the belt her father had given her. She hoped Jorah would never come to regret their mismatched union she thought dashing away a tear. She would need to do everything she could in order to ensure he never would.

  He leaned in,

  “Isolde?”

  “It’s nothing, I’m just feeling a little emotional,” she told him huskily. “Everyone has made me feel so welcome.”

  “This is your home,” he reminded her. “They are our guests.” He reached his hand out to rest it over hers, his fingers tracing the thick gold band on her third finger. She nestled closer to him as he poured her some mead and slid his arm around her rubbing her back. For a minute she thought he would pull her onto his lap, but he didn’t. If they were alone she realised he would have done and it warmed her heart. She smilingly took the mead from his hand before a crash sent Jorah springing from his chair. Issy wheeled about in her seat to find where the altercation was at. To her surprise she found it was Geoffrey who was facing off against a much bigger male she didn’t know who had his arm circled around Matilda’s waist. One look at her maid’s pale face told Isolde his attentions weren’t welcome.

  “Take your hands off her,” growled Geoffrey. “She’s mine!”

  “Yours pup?” laughed the older man. “Why, she’s old enough to be your mother!”

  “She is his mother,” pronounced Jorah his voice carrying right across the hall. “Release her Adamar. Now!”

  The other male’s lip curled back in a low growl as Ran and Baris appeared either side of Geoffrey in a show of solidarity. Adamar, with ill grace, released Matilda who walked straight to her son’s side. A low loud murmuring filled the hall.

  “So this is how the Varkash pack operates now is it?” bellowed Adamar looking around the room in contempt. He spat on the floor
. “I see more farmers here than warriors!” He laughed. “There’s talk of your head being turned by your human wife Jorah, but I little credited it until I saw it with my own eyes.”

  “Well now you’ve looked your fill,” replied Jorah. “And can leave.”

  “Leave? Aye, I’ll leave,” sneered Adamar. “I had thought to return to the Varkash pack but now I’ve seen how humans are prized over wolves I’ll not be back.”

  “You’ll not be welcome,” was Jorah’s stern reply. “Get. Out.”

  Adamar scowled and nodded to his companion who was still seated next to Geoffrey’s sweetheart. They both rose reluctantly and followed him out of the hall as the farmer’s all started drumming their feet against the floor and hand-clapping in approval.

  “Aye, we don’t want your like,” yelled out a voice that sounded suspiciously like Farmer Roper as his two grandsons booed and cat-called enthusiastically.

  “Dear me,” chuckled Uncle Cedric. “Adamar won’t like that at all, poor fellow. He’s quite sensitive under all that posturing.”

  “He seems a horrible man,” shuddered Issy as Jorah sat back down by her side.

  Jorah sighed.

  “He’s a strong fighter. I had hoped he’d return to the fold.” He nodded at Alfric who rose to go and follow and check their guests left the premises.

  Issy rose her eyebrows.

  “If that’s what your ex-pack members are like then I’m glad they defected to Canagan.”

  Jorah frowned.

  “Things are different now, that’s all. In the past…” he broke off with a shrug. “She may be Geoffrey’s mother, but she’s not pack.”

  Issy stiffened. Not pack. She noticed Uncle Cedric’s hawk-like gaze on her although Jorah seemed oblivious. She breathed out uncurling her fingers from where they’d balled into fists. Was that what it came down to at the end of the day? She felt her spirits plummet. Alfric re-entered the hall moments later Baris along with him.

  “They’ve left,” Alfric murmured taking his seat.

  “Good riddance,” growled Baris surprising her. “We don’t need the likes of him.”

  Jorah looked up in surprise.

  “I thought you and Adamar were friends.”