Page 50 of The Night Prince (The Wolf King #2)

S omewhere beneath the castle, Blake is in the dungeons. I don’t know what Callum is doing. Probably strategizing with the alphas because of Alexander’s threat, or cooling down after our fight. I’m angry with them both. Blake burned the pages, and Callum walked away.

At least Blake was about to tell me something. I know I won’t be able to get to him now.

My eyes are heavy as I stare at the paperback I took from Blake’s room. I need to read it, but I fear it.

Blake’s eyes were uncharacteristically sincere as he sat, hunched, on the edge of his bed—his hands clasped, the firelight dancing over his scars and muscles. Perhaps I don’t want to know what he was about to say. Perhaps a thought has been planted in my soul—an explanation for the bond, for what James was trying to demonstrate and Callum’s reaction to it. I want to cull it before its roots grow any deeper.

Callum told me about a wolf thing, once. When I first arrived here and he asked me to wear his collar. It sounded like a bond, of sorts, though he didn’t exactly describe it as such. I glance at the battered paperback book, and wonder if I’ve been searching for answers in the wrong place. Blake has taken two of these books from me. This one was hidden in his drawer, as if to keep it out of my reach.

I nudge the book away. I drop back onto my pillows and pull my hands through my hair. I tug it, welcoming the sting on my scalp. The wind howls against the stone walls, and my mouth aches, and my skin is tight. I chew my finger. I break the skin and tear some off the side of my nail. I sit up. I pick up the book, my blood seeping into the parchment.

I open it, and begin to skim the neatly inked words. It’s a story about a beastly alpha who lives in a castle, and who—in retaliation for a slight made by an alpha from a nearby clan—takes the alpha’s daughter prisoner. Only, as they spend time together, they begin to fall in love.

It’s not until near the end that I come across it. The two Wolves share a bond. It’s named Anam-Cridech .

My heart pounds in my ears. The words on the page blur. I slam the book shut.

The shadows darken, and I’m underwater, thrashing for air. I kick for the surface, but something has hold of me and it’s pulling me down. The thought that has taken root grows. I cut it back. I wish I could speak to Elsie, but she’s back at Lowfell. I remember something she told me. The old cook here at Lowfell used to pen them.

Could it be...? I scramble off the bed, put on my slippers, and slide a robe over my nightdress. I grab the small book.

It’s late, but if I’m in luck, the kitchens will not be empty. I tiptoe around Fergus, who is sleeping again, down the stairs, and make my way to the ground floor of the castle. There’s a fire in one of the kitchen hearths when I arrive, and the woman I seek stands with her back to me, washing dishes in a soapy bucket.

“You should be in bed at this hour, lassie.” Mrs. McDonald’s voice is admonishing. She turns and folds her arms, her soapy hands wetting the sleeves of her brown dress. “And you certainly should not be parading around dressed like that .” She clucks her tongue at how the robe, drawn in at the waist, clings to my curves.

I raise the tome. “Did you write this?”

Her eyes narrow on it. She turns back around. “Aye, I wrote it. A long time ago. I haven’t the time for it now. What of it?”

Despite the questions that bubble dangerously close to the surface, the corner of my lip twitches. “Who would have thought you were such a romantic, Mrs. McDonald?” I say.

“Hm.”

I walk toward her, and stand by the counter on the other side of the bucket she’s washing dishes in. The window looks out onto the herb garden, and outside, the wind rustles the rosemary and bushes of thyme. I can’t quite bring myself to ask her the question I want to know the answer to.

“You wrote about the Anam-Cridech in this book,” I say.

“Aye. It’s a rare thing, in reality, but I always put it in my books.”

“The Anam-Cridech... if two Wolves shared it, would they be able to feel each other’s emotions?”

“I like to write it that way. In truth, no one knows. It’s rare for such a bond to exist, and even rarer for it to be accepted.”

“It has to be accepted?”

“Oh, aye, of course. Why do you ask?”

“How does one accept it?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. The only wolf I know to have experienced the Anam-Cridech is James, and he was never forthcoming about the details.”

My eyebrows lift. “ James ?”

“Aye. With that lassie he used to court. Claire. Or that’s the rumor, anyway. People say she refused him, so the bond never solidified.”

My pulse is hammering. “How can it be broken?”

She laughs. “Broken? Once accepted, it cannot be broken. Only the Moon Goddess would have the power.” She goes back to her washing. “No. The Anam-Cridech is eternal. The bond is thought to surpass even death. Why do you want to know...?”

I’m already turning on my heel, walking on trembling legs out of the kitchens. I murmur my thanks, I think. My mind, my body, feel as if they’re someplace else. The corridors blurring around me, I make my way to the stairwell.

An eternal bond, shared by two Wolves, created by the Moon Goddess, written about in love tomes—that would be upsetting to Callum. I grasp the banister, and suck in a breath.

You already know.

Nausea rises within. I remember what Callum told me when I first arrived at Madadh-allaidh.

It’s a wolf thing. Rare, but powerful. Stronger, even, than love. Two souls chosen by the Moon Goddess...

I know what the bond is.

If I go in one direction, I could confront the alpha who lied and deceived me in the dungeons.

If I go in the other, I could face the alpha who hid the truth he must have suspected for weeks now.

The dangerous, horrible thought has grown vines so thick I can barely breathe. I fight it back with everything I have. I push it down, because I can’t, will not , allow it to surface.

I’m not a rabbit. I’m not prey. I’m not a problem to be locked away in a tower. I’m not a helpless princess that needs protecting from the truth.

Someone has to pay for this.

Someone will pay for this.

Body trembling, heart thumping, chest heaving, I pick a direction.