“She was a Wolf. A golden Wolf with golden eyes. Absolutely magical.”
Aerin swallows hard, a sinking, sick feeling threatening to overtake her. Vitus turns them and continues forward, dragging Aerin along. Aerin forces her feet to move.
“Of course, your father thought so as well. But then, your father was always too rough with his toys.”
Aerin looks back over her shoulder, catching one last glimpse of the cage before Vitus forces her to move on.
50
AERIN
When Aerin enters the dining hall on the arm of the Hale King twenty minutes later, exhaustion tugs at her bones. Thirty or so creatures are seated along one long table. The first course is already plated, wine poured. The creatures pay little attention to their entrance and for this Aerin is grateful. About halfway down the table, between Khortland and Malice, is an empty seat.
The hand on her arm squeezes. “Thank you for a lovely afternoon, my dear.” Aerin brings her gaze back to Vitus. He is a mirror image of Khortland in so many ways, yet… cruel. Vacant.
“It was my pleasure,” Aerin lies giving him a tight smile.
“It truly is such a shame I’ve already agreed for you and my son to reside in Valtara after your binding. How I would enjoy having you and your collection here with me,” the old King muses. Aerin, for once in her life, is a tiny bit thankful for her father’s possession over her.
“I’m certain your son and I will find time to visit,” Aerin replies as they approach the King’s seat.
Finally, the King’s hand and arm release her as servants pull back his ornate chair at the head of the long table.
“Let us feast,” the King booms after sitting down in his chair, lifting his already full wine glass. The table murmurs in agreement as Aerin strides down the length of the table to her seat.
Every seat around hers is filled with the creatures she holds closest: Malice, Khortland, Emrys, Vyx, Quinn. Each set of eyes dig into her with an intensity of care she isn’t sure she wholly deserves. Not with the sick echo of Vitus’s words ringing in her ears.
“I’m fine,” Aerin says lowly over her own wine glass. She finishes the bitter red in a few gulps.
[If he hurt you, I will roast him alive at his own table.]Reikan’s voice burns through Aerin’s brain abruptly. She locks eyes with the Fae next to her, his ice blues dancing with orange in the center.
[There is no need for such dramatics, Reikan, though I don’t hate the image.]
The orange in Malice’s eyes fade, but he looks at her like he agrees with the sentiment. He hardly takes his eyes off her as she manages a few mouthfuls of food. Emrys, who sits on the other side of Malice, seems slightly more relaxed than the rest of them. For that, Aerin is grateful.
Vyx and Quinn across from her still for only seconds when Aerin sits down, before falling quickly into their roles of distraction. Khortland is stabbing his food a bit too forcefully to be entirely calm.
Aerin stays quiet, letting the day play through her mind. She does her best to keep her head out of the dungeon. Away from the sad eyes and ice collars. Away from the empty cell, Vitus’s words echoing in her mind.
Leaning into Khortland, Aerin asks quietly, “What do you know about a golden Wolf in the dungeons?”
Those dark eyes look at Aerin in surprise.
“He took you to the dungeons?” Khortland hisses. Aerin only nods.
“He rarely lets us down there, but I know he keeps a ledger in his personal study,” Khortland says, playing with his second course. Aerin nods. One more thing to add to her to-do list for the trip.
Malice givesAerin a final nod before she shrinks herself down into the shape of a mouse. It’s late. Aerin managed an hour nap between one and two a.m. after they finalized their plans for the remainder of the evening. She is annoyed but not at all surprised that Malice and Emrys refuse to let her go alone. One perfectly placed comment while servants refilled their wine cart and the whole village is aware Aerin’s Wolf is off wandering the halls. There won’t be any suspicion seeing him out and about now.
Carefully lifting Aerin in her mouse form, Malice places her fuzzy body between Emrys’s shoulder blades. The white of her coat matches his perfectly.
“Remember, she only has thirty minutes,” Malice says for the fifth time. Aerin rolls her little mouse eyes even though she knows he can’t see them. She probably has closer to forty-five, sometimes even fifty, but her exhaustion isn’t helping her control. Shifting into something non-magical is hardest to hold onto. A mouse or a cup or a bird is so distinctly separate from Fae it takes significant mastery to achieve. She honed her skill over the years with various Fae in the Valtara Royal Village, including her own siblings at times.
Malice opens the door to the suite. “Get in, get the pictures, and get out, Princess,” he instructs,again.
Aerin is certain she’s done more dangerous things on this trip alone, than breaking into the King’s study. If she’s caught, there are a million ways she can play it. And Vitus can’t do much to her without inciting the wrath of her father.
The halls are silent, various dim lights still on, only partially illuminating their surroundings. Though, as Emrys trots the path Khortland laid out for them, he doesn’t seem to mind the partial darkness.
