The Wolf's Cub (The Wolf's Peak Saga Book 3)

by Patricia Blackmoor

  Lowell was still asleep on the bed, and Bridget sat in a chair by the fire, reading a book while periodically glancing at him.

  “Would you like some help getting dressed?” she asked me, ready to put down her book.

  “I’m just going to pull on a nightgown for now,” I told her, yawning.

  Bridget pulled out a warm cotton nightgown for me, and helped me pull it over my head. I was thankful she had chosen this instead of one of the more decorative, chiffon ones. The sole purpose of this was so that I would have something comfortable and warm to sleep in.

  “Let me know if there’s anything else you need from me, ma’am,” Bridget said. “Otherwise, I’ll be back to help you dress for dinner.”

  I yawned again. “Thank you, Bridget,” I told her. “You’re right next door?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I don’t think I’ve ever stayed in a room that was so elaborate. Daisy practically swooned when she saw it. It’s twice the size of both our rooms at Wolf’s Peak put together!”

  “I’m glad you’re comfortable,” I said as I sat down on the bed.

  “They really are doing their best to make us so,” she said.

  Bridget was about to leave when I stopped her. “How are things with Conor?” I asked.

  She flushed a deep red. “Why do you ask, ma’am?”

  I shrugged. “You’ve spent the last several days being practically inseparable. I was just curious.”

  A grin slowly spread across her face, though she wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Things are going very well,” she said.

  “You love him?”

  “Very much so.”

  I paused, and she glanced up at me, looking for my reaction. When I met her eye, I smiled. “Good,” I said, “because he loves you too.”

  She laughed, the smile still lingering on her face. “Get some rest, ma’am. I’ll see you this evening.”

  Bridget left me and I curled up underneath the covers. The blankets were thick and warm, perfect for the chill that lingered despite the roaring fires. They were impossibly soft as well, some wool and some fur. I felt like I was curled up in a cloud. I situated Lowell in the crook of my arm and curled my body around his warm one as I drifted off to sleep.

  He woke me a little bit later to eat, but the travel of our week must have taken its toll on him as well, because as soon as he was in a clean diaper and his tummy was full, he was struggling to stay awake. I didn’t mind; I needed more sleep as well. When his eyes shut, I left my finger clutched in his little hand and resting on his tummy. Once I heard his soft breathing steady, I kissed him gently on the forehead and fell asleep as well.

  We woke up with the sun high in the sky. Lowell had gotten plenty to eat, but I hadn’t, and my stomach growled. Luckily, with a pull of the cord, I was able to summon Ms. Skarsgaard. She was happy to put together a tray of food for me. Some of the food was familiar, tea and biscuits, but other items, like the grilled fish, was new. Despite my reservations, the food was fantastic, and I ate it all as quickly as possible. Once I felt full I set the tray outside the door and returned to the bed to cuddle up with Lowell. I played with him a while, rattling his toys and tickling his tummy, until he got sleepy again. I considered napping once more, but I was concerned that if I fell back to sleep, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at all that night, and I’d be exhausted for the trial the next day. Instead, while he napped, I read my tattered copy of Jane Eyre. It was the only thing of my mother’s I had managed to salvage from my own life, and it always soothed me.

  I needed to be soothed, because despite everything, I was still nervous. Everyone was depending on me to successfully deliver a compelling testimony. I glanced down at my baby sleeping beside me. If I failed, I failed him as well. I couldn’t have that. He needed me to do this, and he needed me to do it well. Every time I thought about my testimony, though, my chest began to tighten and I had trouble breathing. As a result, reading was my most comforting solution. I read my book, interrupted every once in a while by Lowell, until Bridget knocked on my door to help me dress for dinner.

  Everything I did from this point forward would be monitored closely. Sure, my behavior outside of the trial shouldn’t impact the decision, but these same men I was sitting down to dinner with tonight would be the ones deciding Seth’s fate. I needed to show that I was a composed, capable, innocent woman who had been hurt and attacked by the actions of my brother–in–law.

  Bridget chose a lavender dress for me that had velvet plum cuffs. My hair was pulled back away from my face, a few wisps falling loose to accent my cheekbones. From the trunk Bridget pulled out a set of teardrop pearl earrings to coordinate with the cameo choker I wore over the gown’s lace neckline. Finally, she pulled out a pair of ivory slippers with pearl beading, and pulled them on my feet.

  Once she had made me look sufficiently elegant and innocent, I turned my attention to Lowell. I changed his diaper and dressed him in a new outfit. He looked adorable, and I hoped that would work in my favor.

  “Are you all right, ma’am?” Bridget asked. “You’re shaking.”

  “I’m fine,” I told her, trying to swallow my nerves.”

  “You can be honest.”

  “I’m nervous,” I admitted. “These men are going to be judging me. That’s what we’re here for; they’re going to be judging my honesty and my pain, and that’s a little bit scary.”

  She nodded. “I can understand that. Although, with my previous profession, I suppose I’m used to being judged.”

  “How do you get past it?”

  “I just try to remind myself that what they think doesn’t matter. Of course, in this situation, what they think does matter, quite a bit. They’re the ones who will determine Seth’s fate, so I suppose that advice isn’t really applicable here.”

  “Thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “Sorry,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

  She really looked lovely tonight, wearing a simple emerald dress that pulled out the deep green in her eyes. She wore no jewelry. I wasn’t even sure she owned any, but nevertheless, she looked radiant. Her dark, nearly black hair fell in waves around her shoulders, though the front pieces were pulled back. I tried hard not to be jealous that she could be so effortlessly beautiful. No wonder Conor was willing to give up his reputation to be with her. There were many that would disapprove of a lord and a doctor falling in love with a former prostitute. Conor didn’t seem to give it a second thought.

  I collected Lowell from the bed and took one more moment to examine my reflection in the mirror over the fireplace. I pressed my lips together to give them a bit of color, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I took a deep breath.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  “Ready,” Bridget confirmed.

  Together, we turned and left the room, shutting the door behind us before we went to meet with the elders for dinner.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jasper met us in the hallway. He looked as dapper as always in his dinner coat and hat. He gave me his lopsided smile as he took my free hand.

  “Are you ready?” he asked me.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I sighed.

  He leaned down and kissed me, then kissed the baby’s head as well. Jasper looped his arm through mine, and we weaved our way down the hallway. I hadn’t paid much attention when we’d arrived; I had been so tired I’d hardly noticed anything. Now, as we walked down the corridor, I noticed the high ceilings, vivid stained–glass windows, and intricate tapestries showing scenes of werewolves throughout history. I wanted to stop and look at the stories they told, but we had to get down to the dining hall.

  Jasper kept a hold of my arm as we descended the stairs to the entry hall. He led us through the side room I had noticed earlier, with the fireplace and plush chairs. A tall bookshelf stood next to the doorway, but the few titles I could read as we passed through were all in Swedish. We turned down the next hallway. I hoped that I wouldn’t be in a situation where I was wandering th
is castle alone. All the hallways looked similar, with their stone structure and flickering sconces, although the tapestries and paintings did vary a bit.

  We passed by a set of open double doors, and I nearly came to a stop. I had thought the library at Wolf’s Peak was breathtaking, but it was nothing compared to this. The room was made up of two tall stories stacked full of books, and a domed ceiling. In the center of the room were tables and chairs for reading. A globe sat on a sideboard, above which was a large map of the world. My jaw dropped as I gazed inside, looking at all the books and resources inside.

  Jasper turned around and put his arm behind my shoulder, gently pushing me forward.

  “I know it’s beautiful,” he said. “We’ll come back later.”

  “Do you promise?” I asked, still unable to pull my eyes away from the room.

  “I promise,” he said, moving his arm around my shoulders and pulling me away from the library.

  We continued down the hallway past a series of closed doors until we ended up in a circular intersection. Just like in the library, the roof was domed, and three suits of armor stood along the wall. Including the hallway we had just come from, there were four hallways that led from this room. Jasper continued forward until we came to another set of open double doors.

  Most of the expansive room was taken up with a long dining room table in the center. The room held three fireplaces, one on each of the other walls. They all crackled, bright with fire and radiating with warmth. Large paintings hung over each fireplace. The ones to our left and right depicted scenes of werewolf battles, while the ones that hung on the opposite wall were portraits. We were too far away for me to be able to read any of the names under the frames, but I suspected that they were elders from generations past.

  We were the first ones in the room, and Jasper led us to the right side of the table. Small placards were folded beside each plate, with the name of the guest who was meant to sit there. Jasper was placed in the center of the table, and I was seated to his right. Slowly, the rest of our group filtered in, finding their places along the right side of the table. None of us sat, however, waiting for our hosts to arrive. We stood for several minutes until the clock struck six. The bell rang through the castle, and after the last gong, the elders entered the room from the opposite end. They filed in a line, falling into place across the table from us. Benedict had the seat across from Jasper. I knew that all the elders were equal, but since our case took place in England, Benedict would be in charge.

  “Good evening, everyone,” he said, addressing us all. “Welcome to Castle Lycan. Though we are not brought together under the happiest of circumstances, we are pleased you were all able to join us. We are all familiar with who you are, but many of you don’t know us, so we shall introduce ourselves. For those of you who don’t know me, I am Benedict Wallace, the elder of Great Britain.”

  The man at the far end of the table spoke first. He was just as ancient as Benedict, but his hair still retained much of its blond. “My name is Henri Coustou, and I am the elder of Canada.”

  The next man, very tall with dark, graying hair, spoke. “I am Jonathan Stanley, elder from America.”

  Following him was a deeply tanned man with black hair. “I am Eduardo Altuve, from Mexico.”

  “I am Jose Ricardo, from Central America,” said the man next to him, with the same shade of hair and eyes.

  The third man had a similar look, but his skin was even darker. “I am Pedro Delgado, from South America.”

  The elders from Spain, France, and Germany went next, all looking impossibly old. Next were the elders from Scandinavia, Italy, Eastern Europe, India, China… I began to lose track, there were so many of them, all taking over a specific area of the world. I was amazed that they could all come together without conflict. The rest of the world could learn a lot from these men. Despite whatever enemies their countries had, these elders came together for the good of all their people. In a way, it was inspiring to see, despite the fact that I couldn’t remember any of their names. I hoped they would find a way to wear nametags at the trial. I hoped that I would be speaking mainly with Benedict.

  After James Hemsworth from Australia announced himself from the far end of the table, Benedict rang a small gold bell. Servants swarmed from the side hallways with trays piled high with food. They rested the trays on the table, and we got a good look at the amazing display. In front of us was a smorgasbord of roasted meats, hearty vegetables, and fragrant wine.

  “Normally on Tuesdays we have cuisine from Latin America, but we thought we’d have food from England to make you more comfortable.”

  I was a bit disappointed; I’d never had Latin American cuisine before. Annabelle looked relieved, though. Food hadn’t sat well in her stomach well recently, and she was happy that our food was going to be more domestic.

  I shifted Lowell in my arms and I carefully loaded up my plate with food. The food was delicious, heavy and rich. Just what I needed after a long few days of traveling.

  “What do you think of the castle so far?” Benedict asked me.

  “It’s lovely,” I said. “I noticed many of the tapestries hanging on the walls. What do they depict?”

  “They depict our history,” he said. “What hallway you’re in will affect what part of our history you see.”

  “They must go back a long time, then.”

  Benedict nodded. “They do. Most of our recordkeeping began in the Middle Ages. Many of the tapestries in here are original to this castle, and some are even older. Our oldest tapestry we believe dates back to the sixth century.”

  “That’s astonishing,” I said. “The books too? We passed by the library on the way here.”

  “We have many books from that time period. We’ve kept close and careful records of all the wolves we know of, trying to preserve our history.

  “So, do you know anything about my grandparents?” I asked.

  “Your mother’s parents?”

  “They were werewolves.”

  He nodded. “I recall Jasper mentioning that. What was their name?”

  “Stafford.” I had never met my grandparents, but I had seen the inscription of my mother’s maiden name in my copy of Jane Eyre.

  Benedict thought for a moment. “Of Ervine?”

  “Yes.”

  “I met them only once. Lovely couple.”

  I was still curious. “How did my grandfather become a werewolf? Was he bitten, or was it genetic?” Those were the only ways that someone could become a Lycan, but only the men could exhibit the werewolf genes.

  “Your grandfather inherited it genetically.”

  I nodded. “So, I carry the gene as well.”

  Benedict looked at me, surprised. “You didn’t know?”

  “I never met my grandparents.”

  Benedict glanced between Jasper and me. “Christine, how much do you know about werewolf lore?”

  I shrugged. “A bit, only what I’ve learned over the last year. I think much of it is myth, though.”

  “Such as?”

  I glanced at Jasper, and he nodded at me encouragingly.

  “Well, the myth that you can turn by drinking water out of a werewolf’s footprint?”

  Benedict laughed. “No, that one isn’t true.”

  “Werewolves can be cured by exhaustion?”

  He shook his head. “No, lycanthropy cannot be cured.”

  I nodded. I had suspected as much, but I had held a bit of hope that Lowell could be cured if he didn’t want to be a werewolf. I glanced down at my baby, and gently stroked the dark hair on his head. If Jasper had been able to live and thrive with this, so could Lowell.

  “Are you all right, my lady?”

  I looked up at him, swallowing my anxiety. “Yes, of course, I’m fine. I had also heard that wheat can keep away werewolves?”

  Jasper glanced down at the dinner roll in his hand and laughed.

  I blushed a little bit, but smiled, feeling silly. “I suppose that was a s
tupid one.”

  Benedict reached over and placed a comforting hand over my own. “Not at all, my lady. There is a lot of misinformation out there about werewolves. Even our own books hold misinformation as men tried to learn about us over the years. Do not feel embarrassed for asking questions.”

  “I used to think they could talk to dogs,” Annabelle sighed.

  “That would be fun,” I said.

  “We can communicate with other wolves using body language, but that’s about it,” Jasper said.

  Benedict smiled at me. “Christine, have you ever heard of imprinting?”

  “I’ve come across the term in books,” I said, “but I don’t know what it means.”

  “It means that you’re fated to be with someone.”

  “All right?” I wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

  “Werewolves who inherit their lycanthropy will imprint on someone. You’ve heard of the term ‘soul mates’?”

  I nodded.

  “Essentially, when the werewolf meets his soul mate for the first time, he becomes drawn to her. They are fated, and as such, they will end up with each other.”

  “Wait,” Jasper said, interrupting, “I thought imprinting was a myth?”

  Benedict shook his head. “It is not.”

  Jasper’s demeanor changed. His jaw almost dropped open, and his gaze flickered to the table. “That explains so much,” he murmured.

  I looked down at my baby, trying not to feel the sting of Jasper’s emotions. He had only been with his soul mate for a year before she had died in childbirth. There was no way I could ever be comparable to Cecilia. Still, I tried to swallow the hurt and continue the conversation.