Oh no. This is going to be so much harder than I thought.
Ileave Eugene in the tent, because I’m not sure how the wolves will react to him. I’m not sure I needed to worry though, because I’m surprised that when we arrive at dinner, there are no actual wolves in sight. If I didn’t know better, I would think I was standing in a camp of Fae soldiers—or perhaps even humans.
“Why is no one transformed?” I ask Fox.
He shoots me a deadly glare and doesn’t answer. I roll my eyes. This is never going to work. I don’t know how I’m supposed to pretend that we’re communicating telepathically when we’re not. Is dinner going to be entirely silent?
The answer to that question turns out to be yes…mostly.
Fox leads the way through the rings of tents to the center of the camp where an enormous bonfire rages in the middle of a stone-ringed pit. There are eight or nine soldiers whose job seems to be to turn spits of meat, grease sizzling into the coals. Around them, dozens of wolves eat together, some gathered around low wooden tables, while others sit cross-legged on logs and stumps, bowls balanced on their knees.
Despite the large crowd—there are forty, perhaps fifty soldiers in all—the only sounds are the crackle of the bonfire, and the occasional snort of laughter.
Fox nudges me and points toward his friend Kai, who is sitting at one of the largest tables on the other side of the fire. At the same moment, Kai spots us and jumps to his feet. He cups his hands around his mouth. “Fox!”
His shout cuts through the eerie silence like a knife. Heads whip in our direction, eyes narrowing, and nostrils flaring. Kai acts as if he doesn’t notice, waving us over to him.
Fox leads the way, and I stay close behind him, trying not to react to all the eyes on us. As we pass, a woman with a scar across her jaw leans toward her companion, and widens her eyes pointedly. A man with shoulders like boulders crosses his arms, his gaze never leaving my face. A child points, only to have his hand slapped down by his mother. Over and over again I see people tapping their throats with two fingers, the same way Fox and Kai did in the alphas tent. My hand flies unconsciously to my throat.
“They really don’t seem to like outsiders,” I mutter.
“It’s not outsiders, it’s Fae,” Fox replies, loud enough that I’m sure everyone can hear him. A few women sitting near us look away, seeming embarrassed.
I force myself to smile, as if I have no idea how uncomfortable this is. At least the alpha seems happy to see us—or to see Fox, at least.
“Meet my boys,” Kai says with unmistakable pride, gesturing toward the crowd of blonde boys around the table. “You’ve met Finan—he’s the oldest—and then this is Axel, Janson, Einar.” He points out each boy as he says their name. One grins at us, flashing a missing front tooth. “—that’s Aeric on the end—” he points to a child who can’t be more than four but has a knife the length of his arm strapped to his tiny leather belt. “—and overthere is my daughter, Skai,” he points across the clearing toward a nearby table where a baby is bouncing on a woman’s lap. “And their mother, Inga,” he adds, seemingly as an afterthought.
At the sound of her name, a woman with copper-colored hair and a baby on her lap glances back toward us. The woman’s eyes meet mine for a heartbeat, her lips curving upward before she turns back to the woman beside her, their heads tilted together in that peculiar silent exchange.
Seeming unconcerned, Kai jabs his elbow into one of his son’s ribs, making the child yelp and scoot along the bench to make room for Fox and I. Kai pats the worn wooden space beside him. “Sit.”
Fox settles in first, and I squeeze between them.
I glance around, unsure if we’re supposed to get up to get our own food or if it will be served to us. Growing up in Vernallis, Beatrix and I didn’t have servants, but now that Daemon and Alix have set up their court at the estate all our meals are served to us.
Before I can ask, one of Kai’s sons—the one with the missing front tooth—appears in front of me and tries to hand me a wooden bowl. I smile, reaching out to take it from him, but Fox’s hand shoots out and intercepts it before I can.
I jerk back, startled, and glare at Fox. He pointedly looks straight ahead, refusing to meet my gaze as he hands me the bowl. The little boy cackles with mischievous laughter and runs away.
“Sorry,” Kai says, sounding like he’s also trying not to laugh.
Fox grunts, but says nothing.
I glance down at the bowl, unsure what to do. Why would he knock it away from me? Is there something wrong with the stew? Should I not eat it?
Normally I’d just ask, but if I’m wrong, surely that would offend Kai and it would be clear that Fox and I are not communicating telepathically.
Before I can decide what to do, Fox reaches over and dunks a hunk of bread into the edge of my soup, then pointedly eats it. I relax, and reach for a spoon.
It remains quiet as we eat, and I would have thought I’d get used to it, but I don’t. The eerie silence sends shivers down my spine. I feel like I’m dining with ghosts.
Kai must notice my discomfort, because he gives me a sideways glance. “Sorry. We’re not used to speaking out loud.”
“It’s fine,” I say a bit too quickly. I glance at Fox and can’t help but smile. “This honestly explains so much.”
Fox furrows his brow in mild irritation. “I never talked much anyway.”
“True,” Kai agrees, laughing. “Although you must know that now that you’re mated.”
