Chapter 37

Why on earth was I thanking the men who'd left me trussed up like a turkey? Who'd left me to swing on the rope the bandits had tied around the bonds at my wrists, as I… I couldn't even finish that sentence, a flush of embarrassment and shame painting my cheeks red.

But not just shame.

Something hotter, darker, and far more insidious had my chest heaving, even as I clasped the drying cloth to me. Something that had my eyes running over each one of them in turn. And they noticed. Of course they did. They'd watched my every move as I'd washed, staring then forcing their eyes away, but now I saw the Adam's apple in Silas' throat bob up and down, and Creed's eyes bleed to pale greenish-yellow, as Roan took a step forward. I was saved by a sharp knock on the door, which interrupted whatever the hell this was. They all stiffened, Silas' hands going to the knives at his belt, Creed's hands turning to claws, and even Roan dropped into a loose pose. All of them ready to defend me, I realised. Though they seemed to think an enemy might lie beyond the door, a sharp, feminine voice made clear that wasn't the case.

"Creed, brother, are you in there?" she said.

"He better bloody not be," another woman said. "Fated mate or not, he's not to be left unsupervised around the girl, especially when she's human."

"Really, Saffie?" I could hear the creak of age in this woman's tones. "Like I didn't walk in and catch you with those likely lads you call mates in your room of a nighttime? There were boys leaping out windows left and right."

"Yes, well, that was different—"

But whatever this Saffie might have had to say, it was cut off abruptly by two things. Creed moving forward to put his body in between me and the women that stood outside, and the door being opened.

The first woman who entered was beautiful, that was clear. She had Creed's hazel eyes, but in her case, they were more green than brown. They were keen, too, because as she took in the scene before her, her lips quirked up into a smile, then a laugh bubbled free.

"Oh no, the favoured one is in trouble now…"

"That's enough, Fern…" An older woman, whose long brown hair was pulled back into a bun with a few grey streaks at the temples, had come in behind her and was taking in the tableau in front of her with a slight frown. "Creed." I knew who she was then. She had to be Creed's mother because no woman mastered that tone of barely repressed disappointment than the one who had borne you. "What on earth are you doing in here?"

"Mother Marian asked us to assist my fated mate with a bath," he replied stiffly, still providing a physical barrier between me and the women.

"That meddling old witch…" The third woman said as she walked into the room. Her hair hung free in long waves of perfect grey, and her face settled in soft folds as she smiled past Creed at me. "Though it appears we've arrived at just the right time. Fern?"

She nodded her head at the younger woman, who stepped toward me with an armful of neatly folded clothing.

"We thought you might like something clean to wear," Fern said with a smile. "Not that the dress you were wearing wasn't awfully pretty. We had it laundered and it's hanging up to dry, but…"

She offered me the clothing, and I just blinked at it. My brain reminded me belatedly that I needed to take it, and thank her for her kind offer, so I tucked the drying cloth around me tightly and smiled.

"Thank you so much. Fern, is it?"

"Everything's arse-about, as per usual," the grey-haired woman said with a sharp shake of her head. "You three." If you'd asked me when she first came into the room what colour her eyes were, I'd have said a soft brown, but they seemed to grow harder and greener as she inspected each of the men. "Get down to the elders' lodge. You're expected."

"But Grandmother—" Creed started to say.

"Of course, Lady Hazel." Silas sketched a perfect bow, though a slightly stiff one, before making for the door. When he got to the doorway, he paused to look back at me. "You'll be safe here, Princess. Nothing can touch you on the packlands." His lips twisted into a sardonic smile. "Not even us." The smile faded as he turned to the others. "Come, a summons from the elders can't be ignored."

"I'll be back, lass." Creed turned toward me and put his hands out to take mine, but something made me take a step back. He noticed that, as did everyone else, and my cheeks flushed even redder as a result. "This is my family." He nodded to the women who had watched everything with both amusement and concern. "They're here to ensure the mating process takes place properly—"

"Enough of that," the grey-haired woman said with a hiss. "Get gone. There'll be no talk of mating anyone, not until the elders give their approval. Go, Creed."

I heard the iron in her tone and saw the way Creed moved without a thought of disagreement, and I felt a stab of jealousy so intense it took my breath away. To wield such command… To say something must be done and know that it would be. It seemed a funny thing for a princess to want because I was sure most of the populace of Stormare thought I had but to crook my finger and everyone would do as I asked, but that was not so. Just like every other woman in my country, I had a role I had to fulfil and obligations I had to meet, but these women were not Stormarian, and it appeared they did not have the same constraints.

They watched the three of them file out of the room.

"Stay out of trouble, lass," Roan said with a wink from the doorway. "Your things are just here." He nodded to a pile of bags on the front porch. "But never fear, we'll be back."

Creed's mother shook her head with a small sound of irritation, then strode over to shut the door, the click of the lock making me jump.

"My apologies, Your Highness," the grey-haired woman said, about to sweep into a low curtsey. "We have not been properly introduced."

"Oh no…" I stepped forward, putting out one hand to stop her while holding the drying cloth to my chest with the other. "There's no need for such formalities here."

"Thank all the gods." She straightened up with a twinkle in her eyes. "My poor joints can barely cope with hauling my carcass out of bed every morning, let alone a bloody curtsey."

"As if you aren't jumping ‘out of bed every morning' to terrify the young ones, Mother," Creed's mother said with a smile. "Princess Jessalyn, I am Saffron, mother of Creed. This is his sister, Fern." The youngest woman shot me a cheeky smile. "And his grandmother, Hazel." She clasped her hands in front of her. "My Creed has filled me in on your situation."

"On threat of being hauled out of your room by his ear if he didn't," Hazel said to me with a rueful smile. "I knew that one would fall hard the moment he found his mate."

"Mate…" All my life I had been the King of Stormare's daughter, and for a few days so far, I was the temporary queen of Khean, but each one of those roles was clear to me. I knew what to expect, even if I might wish I didn't, in the case of my soon-to-be husband. "I'm sorry: I'm not from Khean, so I don't really understand what that means. Creed wasn't…" I shook my head as I remembered his impassioned admission of what I was to him. "He didn't really explain that very well."

"I bet he didn't." Hazel moved forward, looking me over with concern as if she could see exactly what had been done to me. "They get all het up, the males, when they inform you about the bond." Her sharp eyes locked with mine. "Tell me he didn't hurt you. Tell me he had the presence of mind to make sure he followed the teachings of our people."

"He…" My mouth worked to reassure her, but the words didn't come. Instead, my throat seemed to close up so that it took real effort to take a breath.

"Ahh, lass…" Saffron bustled forward, her eyes filled with maternal concern, but before she reached me, she stopped herself. "My apologies." She smiled. "I'm looking at you and just seeing a girl that's been hauled from one country to another and had to deal with far more than she should have all on her own. I had to remind myself you're a princess and you might not like the sympathy of a strange woman."

"If it helps, I'm not really feeling much like a princess right now," I croaked out.

That did it. Strong arms wrapped around me and I was held tight, a hand rubbing up and down my back and reminding me of the memory of my mother I'd woken to. This time, though, the arms weren't yanked away, nor were hard looks shot my way, as with Arik. The other women clustered closer and that helped settle something inside of me.

"This is all very irregular," Hazel said, though not in an unkind way. "If you were one of us, you'd come with your mum, your sisters, your aunties, and your cousins, and they'd stand by you as you put those boys through their paces. They think you're they're fated mate? That's not a foregone conclusion, which is something they need reminding of. They must prove themselves worthy of being considered your mate."

"Worthy?"

I lifted my head from Saffron's shoulder to look at Hazel. The older woman smiled and then nodded.

"Didn't tell you that, did he?" Fern smirked. "I bet he didn't. You've arrived on the packlands at just the right time. The mating games are about to begin. Packs all over are converging here to vie for the opportunity to make a woman their mate." A dimple popped in her cheek. "I've got a few who are trying to turn my head."

"So it's not a foregone conclusion?" I asked. "I apologise for my ignorance, but I assumed ‘fated' meant it would happen regardless of what I had to say about the matter."

"Ack no." Hazel shook her head sharply. "No wolf shifter woman would take a man just on his say so. He might know the moment he locks eyes with us that we hold the key to his heart, but we know no such certainty. He and his pack must convince us to accept the bond, make clear that he and his fellows are the ones that deserve our attentions, lest we choose to reject the bond."

"Reject…"

I had that same feeling of unreality I'd experienced when my mother and grandmother showed me the bag of poisons. To reject Creed, Silas, Roan, but especially Arik… My mind raced, trying to get my head around that. Gods, even rejecting the shadowy king of Khean was a tantalising thought. I straightened up, pulling free of Saffron's embrace with a grateful nod, then turned to face Hazel.

"Mother Hazel, will you tell me more? I must apologise for my ignorance, but what you are describing is an entirely alien thing to me. I have a choice in the matter?"

"Ahh, lass…" Hazel shook her head slowly. "Pull some clothes on while we wait outside, then we'll take you to get something to eat. Some vittles and a long chat about the situation might go a long way to making you feel more like yourself."

Like myself? No. Princess Jessalyn seemed to stumble blindly from one situation to the other, trying to work out a way forward but failing each time. But what Mother Hazel offered? I was smart enough to know that it was precious indeed. Information was power, I'd learned that at my father's knee, and I was hungrier for that than food.

"That would be very welcome," I said with a smile.