Page 28 of Wolf Caged (Bound to the Shadow King #1)

Few of the people smiled at each other, even when they were deep in conversation or seemed close to one another. I studied the people coming and going, that feeling crystalising into something I could grasp and put a name to.

It was sombreness.

It was the best way I could describe the heaviness in the air and the way people went about their business, but none laughed and few smiled.

My gaze roamed to the castle that loomed over them all.

The people here weren’t happy.

Why?

Jenavyr stepped out of the forge and looked from me to the people I was watching. “Perhaps we should head back soon. You must be tired.”

“I’m not. I want to see more.” I didn’t want to return to that room that suddenly felt small and stifling as I thought about being trapped inside it with nothing to do. “What’s over in that direction?”

I pointed back the way we had come, to the place where the road had branched into two.

“The docks.” Jenavyr took my arm again, glancing once more between me and the people as we turned, her grip more rigid now.

The townspeople weren’t the only ones feeling tense. Part of me whispered to return to the castle as she wanted, but the rest of me howled to see more of this town because I wanted to understand why its people were so solemn.

“Docks,” I echoed. “I’ve never seen docks before.”

It was enough to have me marching forwards, past all the fascinating stores and the intriguing people.

People that only became more intriguing as we entered a broader section of road and a more industrial area of the town.

Large warehouses lined the cobbled road, and there were more carts here, rolling up from the docks I caught glimpses of through the buildings.

The tall masts of the ships called to me, but they didn’t hold my attention for long.

Standing outside one of the wood and stone warehouses were a group of what appeared to be goblins, each of them barely tall enough to reach mid-thigh on me.

Their leather caps had been fashioned to accommodate their long, pointed ears, and rugged pants and sleeveless tunics in earth tones made their skin that ranged from light sage to deep forest green only stand out more to me.

I tried not to stare, but diverting my gaze from them only had it snaring on something else.

Dwarves.

It was the only word that came to mind for the trio of stout, bearded males dressed in leather and plate armour that were looking over several heavy sacks of minerals that had been leant against the stone lower half of another warehouse.

“Traders, from the mountains and mines of the Shadow Court,” Jenavyr said beside me.

“The goblins bring foraged goods from the western woods, such as mushrooms and herbs, as well as a fine brew that bears the royal seal. The dwarves are responsible for running the royal mines as well as several quarries. Many of their ancestors worked on the castle. They are great stone masons. Their artistry and skill are second to none, and you can see many of their carvings on the facade of the castle, around the doors and windows.”

I turned to tell her how fascinating this world was, and stopped dead.

Two large shirtless males carrying big wooden boxes and loading them onto the back of a cart captured and held my gaze.

They towered at least seven foot tall, with broad muscled bodies, and legs like tree trunks packed into worn thick leather trousers.

Rather than feet, they had large black hooves, and instead of having a humanoid head, they resembled bulls, complete with glossy horns.

One even had a gold ring through his nose.

Minotaurs!

There were actual minotaurs in this world, walking around and working just like the fae, goblins and dwarves, as if they were nothing out of the ordinary.

I was tempted to blink and scrub my eyes to make sure I wasn’t imagining them.

One of them caught me staring and huffed, his nostrils flaring, and I dragged my eyes away from him, feeling incredibly rude.

Jenavyr chuckled softly beside me. “You look like you just saw your first minotaur.”

“I did.” I turned on her, my eyes wide. “We don’t exactly get many minotaurs in my world. They’d kind of stand out.”

Her fine black eyebrows rose. “I suppose. I would imagine you do not see many like them either.”

She subtly nodded towards something.

I looked there and every inch of me locked up tight.

“By the gods,” I breathed low, “what are those?”

They were the creepiest thing I had ever seen.

They dwarfed the minotaurs as they moved in a stilted fashion up the road towards me, tattered black robes writhing like shadows across the cobbles.

Thorny vines wrapped around their thin bodies, pinning the layers of their robes in place, and formed into a thick sweeping high collar from their chest to the back of their deer-skull heads.

From their antlers, tinkling silver charms and threads of crystals swayed.

“They are—” Jenavyr cut off, going rigid beside me, and I feared these foul creatures had cast some kind of spell on her, my eyes darting to her as the warmth in the atmosphere turned frosty.

She stared beyond them.

I looked there, at the handsome blond male who stepped from what appeared to be a tavern, the muted sunlight catching on the metallic royal blue embroidered edges of his fine black tunic.

He said something as he looked back into the tavern, waving his hand in a regal way as he dipped into a bow, and smiled in a way that made me feel someone had been teasing him and that bow had been mocking.

His deep blue eyes swung our way and the easy smile that had been gracing his lips dropped away.

He jogged down the steps and right over to us, passing the deer-skull-headed creatures as if they were nothing at all to be concerned about.

“Jenavyr. What brings you out of the castle?” His accent was muddied, but I thought I detected a hint of Irish among the blend of English and something else. His gaze landed on me. “And who is this? A new recruit?”

“None of your business.” Jenavyr’s tone had lost all warmth and her expression gained a glacial edge. “I am merely escorting her around town, and that is all you need to know.”

I was sorely tempted to inch away from the firing line of whatever bad blood existed between her and this newcomer.

“Come now, Vyr. You leave for days, skulking off to the western reaches, and now you return in an even fouler mood?” He reached a hand out towards her.

She shot it a withering look that had it halting before it could touch her. “What have I said about calling me that, Riordan?”

Riordan shrugged. “Not to call you it. But it’s fine for Kaeleron and Oberon to call you it, and hell, even Mal can use it but by the gods… how dare I call you Vyr, right? I’ve only known you for what… a century?”

“Longer. Believe me. I am aware of every day I have had the displeasure of your company.”

His face darkened. There was definitely bad blood here, but as I glanced at Jenavyr, I swore her frostiness had nothing to do with his presence or her dislike of him. Her gaze kept darting to the tavern he had exited.

Riordan folded his arms, causing his tunic to pull tight across honed biceps, and a flicker of red emerged around his pupils.

Every instinct I possessed as a wolf shifter warned me to back away, to bare fangs at this male and keep my distance from him, because he wasn’t a fae.

He was a vampire.

One who walked beneath the twilight sun as if it was nothing.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to piss you off this time. Apparently, something. Maybe you should have stayed out by Wraith Wood and let me handle things here. Better yet, step down as second in command and go play princess.”

The skin around Jenavyr’s eyes darkened as her silver irises brightened, and her shadow grew restless on the ground, growing tendrils that writhed and even snapped at the cobbles.

“The only one who should step down is you. I believe I have proven myself more capable than you on… all … occasions.” She rested her hand on the hilt of her sword.

“Want to test out that theory in the ring, Vyr?” He reached for his own weapon and stepped up to her, using the few inches difference in their height to look down on her. “Or are you still too afraid to face me in a fair fight?”

She wrapped her fingers around the grip of her sword and sneered. “I do not need to prove myself to you, vampire. Now step out of my way. You are hindering official castle business.”

He scoffed. “How low you have fallen if your official castle duties now include babysitting a wolf.”

Jenavyr’s shadows snapped at his polished riding boots and he was quick to leap back a step, moving so fast I could barely track him.

He scowled at her.

She scowled right back at him.

I fidgeted with the sleeves of my blouse, doing my best to fade into the background as they silently fought a battle of wills, each second that ticked past cranking the tension in the air higher.

And changing the atmosphere between them.

The sharpness of their glares slowly faded, something akin to heat beginning to flicker in their eyes as their breaths came faster.

And just when I wasn’t sure whether they were going to fight or do something far more embarrassing for me, Jenavyr grabbed my hand and dragged me away from him, pulling me at a clip down the road towards the docks.

I looked at the building the vampire had exited as we passed it, peering through the open door at the revellers inside, and the buxom females who sat on the laps of a few of them.

“What is that place?” I craned my neck to see more as she swiftly pulled me away from it and the vampire.

“It is not a place for you.” Her voice was as sharp as a sword as she bit those words out, her grip on my arm growing firmer as she scowled at the building and her shadows raced towards it only to halt as she grimaced, her jaw flexing.

“It is a tavern that has a reputation with men looking for a good, easy lay.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t drag my eyes away from it, even as my cheeks heated and her grip on my arm became bruising, anger rolling off her in powerful waves that had my instincts warning me away from her.

When I lost sight of it, I looked at her, at the fierce lines of her hard expression, no trace of light or warmth in her beautiful face now.

Catching the vampire in that place had angered her, and I wasn’t sure it was because she didn’t like him. “Perhaps he had court business there.”

A weak attempt to soften her mood.

I wasn’t even sure why I was making excuses for him, but I felt compelled to say something, to ease her mind and her anger.

It was probably that part of me that still felt it was my duty to help anyone who was struggling in my pack, seeing what I could do to lessen their load, even if it was just letting them talk and get things off their chest.

She huffed. “Perhaps he did, but I doubt there is any court business that would require him to visit such a place.”

“Maybe he was hungry.” Another weak excuse, but this one had her grip on my arm loosening a touch, enough that it no longer hurt.

“Perhaps.” She glanced back in the direction we had come, a look in her eyes that was far from the hatred she had shown towards the vampire. In fact, it seemed quite the opposite emotion.

“Do you like him?” I whispered that question, sure she would be angry with me for asking it, but I had seen wolves in my pack act in such a manner with each other, always fighting and acting cold towards the other, and more often than not it turned out they liked each other but were battling it for some reason.

“No,” she snapped, quick to deny it, and then fell silent for a full minute before she quietly added, “I am to marry some court prince. Which one, I do not know yet, but it will happen.”

“Whether you like it or not?” I shifted closer to her, compelled to be nearer her so she would know I was there with her—for her.

She hesitated and it was answer enough for me.

“I know how that feels,” I admitted and sorrow welled up in me as I thought about my pack and Lucas, that ache to know my family were safe returning to cloud my mind and my heart.

“I was essentially betrothed from the moment I was born. My pack did something terrible. My uncle challenged the alpha of the neighbouring pack, hungry for more power, and was defeated. That pack wanted to retaliate by taking over our pack, but my father convinced their alpha to look among our pack for potential fated mates of his people instead… a way of strengthening the bond between our two packs. Fated mates are… sacred… to wolves. Or at least they should be. The alpha agreed and used witchcraft to seek out mates among the immature wolves in my pack. And one of the mates they found was me… and I was fated to his son. That was enough to halt any trouble between our packs. So I grew up knowing who my mate was, and that I would be his once I matured, and dreaming of that day… but what really awaited me was a nightmare and Lucas?—”

I cut myself off as my throat tightened and my eyes burned, my soul crying out for the other half of it as my wolf side loosed a mournful howl within me that made me want to scream in rage and frustration.

Would I ever be free of this feeling? I hated Lucas.

I wanted nothing to do with him. But my instincts weren’t getting the message.

Jenavyr’s steady gaze bore into me, reminding me I wasn’t alone and who I had just opened myself to, telling the king’s sister of all people about my past.

Panic had my muscles clamping down onto my bones.

I snared her arm, gripping it tightly, and struggled to breathe through it as I held her gaze, imploring her to listen to me and do as I was about to ask her.

“Please don’t tell your brother what I said. I don’t want him to know. It’s bad enough that I was sold, but being sold by—” I couldn’t bring myself to say it as a thousand blades cut my battered heart to ribbons all over again, the pain stealing my breath and my voice.

Jenavyr’s silver eyes widened and then softened as understanding dawned in them.

She nodded.

“I will not tell a soul. Your secret is safe with me, Saphira.”

I wished I could believe that.