BASTIEN
Claire was on my mind as I rode into the walled city that surrounded Château Rose with Natalia and Tyson. While I was loath to leave my wife alone, I had duties to attend to. And I wanted to hear about the werewolf firsthand.
The city of Roselyn looked peaceful beneath a blanket of snow. Chimneys breathed thin ribbons of smoke into the gathering night, and lanterns glowed. The homes of the wealthier citizens lived closest to the castle, their homes nestled within the inner ring wall—miners and merchants whose fortunes came from the mountains. Beyond the outer ring wall sheltered the smaller homes of tradesmen and military leaders, cooks and gardeners, seamstresses and shopkeepers, and soldiers with their families. Here, in the outer wall, beat the true heart and soul of the city.
This was a hardy town, its people as resilient as the mountains themselves. I guided us past the greenhouses, their windows slick with condensation. My thoughts returned to my wife, and how she looked with herhands in the soil, planting flowers, her laughter bright in the air. I longed to give her more days like that.
The rumble of my army grew the closer we came to the outer ring wall. They had been amassing in the valley, ready to march into the Lawless Lands at my command. As we trotted through the gate, we were greeted by raucous cheers.
I lifted my hand, and the warriors answered. Shouting louder, chanting, “Duke, Duke, Duke!”
Winter wind whipped through my hair, and pride swelled in my chest. This was one of the reasons why I had no desire to live in the capital. I was a warrior. A commander. I’d always been one of them, and I’d led generations into battle to protect the boundary between us and the witches who refused to set down their grudges and pursue peace under the Blood Treaty.
Over the centuries, their hatred of each other dwindled their numbers. The bodies of mothers, fathers, and children filled the great graveyard just beyond the mountain pass. I’d meet coven leaders throughout this time who had grown weary of fighting and wanted peace. We’d done things like build a tunnel for peaceful travelers. We’d set up independent villages for humans that were free from magick and that were protected from the war with spells.
These were small victories. But this new wave of leaders had given me hope. For those like Chastity and Hector, their mistrust of vampires was outweighed by the desire to see their children thrive. They wanted peace, and they saw the benefit of having an unbiased third party to ensure it held.
At least, that had been the sentiment before I received Hector’s head in a box, and this new coven leader, Shayla, had learned to harness moon magick to create werewolves.
I hadn’t wanted to believe it, but the proof was growing. “Where is this soldier? The one who saw a werewolf?” I asked.
Natalia motioned to the largest tent, and we cut a slowpath through rows and rows of men and women dressed in black-and-gold doublets.
“Is it strange that I’m hard right now?” Tyson quipped, running a hand through his jet-black hair. “Does that happen to you?” Both Natalia and I rolled our eyes. “What? I’m being serious. Surrounded by the army. All these people chanting. The bloodlust. It doesn’t make your cock hard?”
“No,” Natalia replied.
He leveled her with a look. “Come on! You have to feelsomething. Right in your cock. It’s more thrilling than—than,” he struggled for a word, then his dark eyes widened, “your first threesome.”
Natalia burst out in a sudden fit of laughter. “You wouldn’t know what to do with two lovers.”
He gestured to his crotch. “I’ve yet to meet a lover who complained about my cock.” Natalia only laughed harder. Tyson gaped at her. “What?”
“In my experience,” Natalia was saying, flicking her long braid off her shoulder, “a man who advertises as loudly as you rarely has much to offer.”
I leaned down to shake hands with a few warriors while my niece and nephew continued, and received well-wishes and warm words that, thankfully, had little to do with cocks. Tyson, who realized men wanted to shake his hand too, stopped talking.
Chuckling, Natalia muttered, “Do you think this is how they talk in the capital?”
We shared a smile, but hers quickly evaporated, and we both trained our attention forward. An unfamiliar awkwardness settling between us.
We tied our horses outside the command tent, where incense smoke mingled with the scent of roasting goat.The Captain of the Watch greeted me with a bow, his doublet emblazoned with the sigil of House Allard and the Unified Territories: a moon, a blade, and a coiled serpent encircled by twelve small stars.
I tucked my cane under my arm, and we shook hands like old friends. He did the same with Natalia. But stopped to leer at Tyson, who had stuck out his hand, waiting for the same warm welcome. As much as I liked watching him squirm, Tyson was my heir. So I cleared my throat and made introductions. “This is my nephew, Lord Tyson Allard, the newly minted Viscount of Aurenne. And my heir.”
“Heir?” The Captain of the Watch grunted before shooting a sidelong glance at Lady Natalia. “Your brothers sure are busy in the capital, aren’t they, Your Grace? Drinking wine and having parties and making babies while we do the hard work of the land.”
I swallowed hard, trying not to think aboutmaking babies, as he put it.
“The viscount does love a good party,” Natalia said with a laugh. She pointed the butt of her dagger at his chest. “By the way he’s dressed, you’d think one was about to start.”
Tyson glanced down at his double-breasted coat, confused. “This isn’t what you’d wear to a party, cousin. It’s distinctly military.”
While he’d traded midnight blue for the black and gold of Roselyn, his attire was still much less practical than mine or Natalia’s. Gold buttons. A black silk damask with gold filigree. The tassels. Not to mention the mink cloak hanging around his shoulders.
Tyson caught the way we were all looking at him, and the defensiveness melted into a crooked grin. “What can I say? I’m a rare breed. I like to fight and fuck and look good doing it.”
Natalia scoffed, but the captain chuckled. “The maids dolove a pretty lad. Maybe I should get a fancy cloak. I’d probably have better luck.”
