15. Naomi

Naomi

"Oh, my wolf," Priscilla wailed. "I'm going to hell for what I did, aren't I?"

I somehow resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Funny how our teachers had managed to instill in Priscilla that same-sex intimacy was a one-way ticket to Hell but hadn't managed to get around to teaching her about the evils of slavery during the entire eight years of education we were allotted within the one-house St. Ailbe school system.

Rather than pointing that out, I suggested, "Maybe you should stay in my room until we get everything figured out with Amanda."

Wrong tact.

"I am going to Hell, then!' Priscilla's face paled, and she asked me directly in W?lfennite. "Naomi, am I going to Hell?"

I bit my tongue, knowing it would only upset and confuse her more if I told her the truth — that I'd stopped believing in Hell as anything more than a convenient tool that the St. Ailbe elders used to manipulate us and control our actions a long time ago.

Luckily, Frey had a kinder response at the ready.

"There, there now. No need to fret on about it." She pulled Priscilla off the couch and directed her toward the door with a guiding arm around her shoulders. "The heat's a right powerful beast, isn't it? Certainly more powerful than us. The rule here in Ireland is that no one can be blamed for what they do when they've got it in their nose …"

"My room's two doors down," I called after Frey as she escorted Priscilla out. "And bring back the quilt from my bed, will you?"

Leaving Frey to the task of comforting a weeping Priscilla, I untied Amanda's ankles from the bedposts — and considered whether or not to wrap the poor she-wolf up waakye burrito style before the sedation wore off, which, according to Astrid's dire warning previous to her departure, would be "sooner than you think it will."

I still hadn't decided for sure when Astrid re-entered the room, saying, "I have good news and bad news. Which would you rather first?"

I scraped a hand over my face. "Good, then bad."

"Oh, I wasn't expecting that!" Astrid came over to stand on the other side of Amanda's bed. "C chose it the other way around."

Frey returned with the quilt before I could remind her that her brother, C, and I had nothing in common.

The good news was that "The C King" had mostly accepted my counter-proposal. The bad news was that he refused to let Frey and Astrid help me get Amanda the help she needed without him .

"Considering how protective male wolves can be, this is the best you could hope for, given that you're his —"

" Nothing ," I insisted before Astrid could finish that sentence. "I'm his nothing. I don't belong to him in any way, shape, or form."

But I agreed to C's one condition, nonetheless.

Astrid had gone over all the consequences of a she-wolf not completing her heat cycle with me before she left to present my counter to the kings. It started with permanent brain damage and ended with multiple organ failure, followed by an excruciatingly painful and confused death — thanks to the aforementioned brain damage.

With that list of outcomes rattling through my head, what else could I choose?

"What does C stand for anyway?" I asked Astrid as she, Frey, and I prepared to move the sleeping Amanda from the room.

Astrid blinked at me, confused. But Frey said, "I think she's asking after your brother."

"Oh!" Astrid chuckled as we all lifted Amanda onto the heavy quilt Frey had brought back. "His name isn't the letter C. It's Sea, like the ocean."

"As in the King of all the Sea that touches the Emerald Isle," Frey declared in a dramatic tone before breaking off with a laugh. "And Wild is King of the Wild — or Nature — or the Land. Whatever you wish to call it. We Irish Wolves are never afraid to add another title. But long story short, we call all the kings by their realms."

"So, both of Wild and ah… Sea were named from birth after their realms?" I frowned as I covered Amanda's nakedness with the original blanket I had wrapped her in when I brought her up to the room. "They don't have normal names like you and Astrid. "

"Oh, they have proper Irish names," Astrid assured me. "That's only what we call them."

"And, what are those names?" I carefully asked when neither Irish she-wolf volunteered them.

Astrid shook her head. "No idea."

I squinted. "You don't know your own brothers' names?"

"Only their parents know," Frey answered. "By tradition, it's kept a secret from everyone until they mate."

I held up a hand. "Wait, are you trying to tell me that no one is allowed to know their real name until they officially mate?"

"S'pose you could call it a Ritualized Superstition," Frey shrugged. "In any case, I wouldn't bother introducing yourself to any of the Irish Wolves. None of us are going to call you by your proper name until you're seeded and wed."

Oh, was that why both Sea and Wild called me by other names while never asking for my real one? I began to wonder — before the full implication of what they were saying about my future role in their kingdom set in.

"Wait, but I'm n…" I began to protest.

"You're Sea's Nothing . Sure, sure." Astrid cut me off with a disbelieving chuckle.

Meanwhile, Frey moved to the foot of the bed and asked, "Do me a favor, will you, my Nothing Queen? Grab that flap closest to you so we can get this she-wolf her cure. Figure I can handle this foot end if you and Astrid each take a corner at the head."

Okay, I didn't like that Astrid and Frey were just assuming I would be the next queen of Ireland or the sea or whatever title they wanted to call it. But getting Amanda the help she needed before she woke up in another heat cycle was more important than disabusing them of that notion.

We all concentrated on carrying Amanda out of the room I had chosen for her — had that only been thirty-six hours ago? It felt like thirty-six years as we ferried Amanda down the stairs on her makeshift quilt cot.

"Oh my wolf, it's Amanda!" Orpah cried out from below. "They've got Amanda!"

She and the other she-wolves abandoned their breakfast and ran over to gather around us as soon as we descended the stairs, with Astrid and me each holding a front flap and Frey holding both of the quilt-cot's back flaps.

"Is she going to be all right?" Leah demanded.

"Where are you taking her?" Fiona, the Scottish baker's daughter I put in charge of the kitchen, asked. "Should I fetch her something to eat before you go?"

"Oh, she looks terrible ," Miriam eyed Amanda's unconscious form with a disgusted look. "Is she dying?"

I answered the first three questions with, "I hope so," and "We're trying to get her help before she wakes up, so she won't have time to eat. Thanks for offering."

But my reply to Miriam's question about her imminent death faded in my throat when the portion of the dome glass that I'd seen slide away when the Kidnapping Wolves ran away from Amanda's heat did so again.

The Sea King entered the habitat for the first time since I shrieked at him to get out, looking more royal than I remembered.

Instead of a leather vest and a sash of knives, he wore a tunic today, finely embroidered around the deep V of its neck, which dipped unnecessarily low. All the way to below the midpoint of his chest, which bore a diamond-shaped tattoo with a vertical line bisecting it.

Over the thin tunic, he sported a deep blue fur-lined cape fastened at his shoulders with ornate metal brooches, each shaped like wolves made with the same patterned knot formations that I'd seen on many of the dishes in the cave kitchen. His braids were gone, replaced by unbound, gleaming waves of rust-colored hair that flowed beneath a dark metal crown adorned with intricate wolf designs and studded with purple gemstones.

The Sea King looked ridiculous in his royal attire.

I mean, he should have looked ridiculous to me . But my wolf went strangely quiet at the sight of him, and a new noise appeared inside my ears. It almost sounded like panting.

The rest of the room had gone silent, and the she-wolves who'd been so eager to pelt me with questions fell away as he walked straight toward me.

"Hello, there…" He stopped in front of me and regarded me with a look that made me feel like I was sitting in a summer meadow filled with flowers and breeze.

Still, I refused to return the greeting.

Instead, I shifted my gaze toward the door and led the way, walking forward as if he was a king-shaped obstacle I had to get around.

"Here, Astrid," he said, moving out of my line of sight. "You can join Frey in the back."

I refused to look over at him, but the sudden lightening of my weight load let me know he'd taken Astrid's corner of the blanket.

"Are you not talking to me, then?" His voice was a resonant purr, rippling with amusement .

I let my silence answer that question as we walked out of the open portion of the glass. He left Sadie with strangers, and he was the reason Amanda was in this state.

I didn't even believe in hell, but it would be a cold day there before I ever spoke to him aga…

That thought, and all others, vanished when I saw what lay beyond the dome of glass. My mouth fell open, and I instantly broke my vow to never speak to him again.

"What is this?!" I demanded on a gasp.

"It's where we Sea Wolves live, Mairinua," the Sea King answered in a tone laced with pride. "Welcome to our Secret Kingdom."