Page 13 of A Wolf's Bargain
Fane’s voice shook her from her thoughts. Cora nodded and slowly removed her hand from beneath his. “My apologies, Master Fane. You’d not seemed keen on the offer last night, so this comes as a bit of a... surprise.”
His smile widened into something almost boyish. “Just full of surprises, aren’t I? Well, you’ll have plenty of time to come to terms with them on the journey home.”
“Home? You’re taking me home?” She’d been fully prepared to be kept prisoner in the wolf-men’s camp when she’d arrived. Theoretically, yes, he needed her for a marriage ceremony, but there had been no agreement that it would take place at the castle. Hope filled her chest. Perhaps there was still time. Perhaps her father would know how to save her from the mess she’d made.
If he couldn’t, she wasn’t sure what she’d do.
Chapter 7
Cora
It hadn’t even been a day since she’d seen her home, but when Cora caught sight of it over the crest of a hill, it was as though she was seeing it for the first time. It seemed impossible that so much could have happened since she’d left, and yet everything still looked exactly as it had before. She stared at the stone walls she’d known since birth and wondered if she’d gone mad.
Wolf skin wearers were real. The luchthonn were more than the wild men of stories. She’d seen a man change into a nightmarish creature and then back again, and yet the sky was just as blue as it had always been. The birds circled the village in the distance just as they always had. Their farmers bent low in the fields just as they did every day.
How was it possible for the world to continue when the very ground beneath her feet had shifted?
She stared at the road ahead, somehow seeing everything and nothing all at once. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she half expected the flowers on the side of the road to sprout wings and fly away. As a child, she’d imagined that the flowers of the field could sing. It had been one of her favorite games, and suddenly, she wondered if it could be true. After all, the idea had to have come from somewhere. If men could become wolves, why couldn’t flowers sing?
Ahead of her, Fane surveyed the land from the top of his great black stallion. A small, rebellious voice in her heart wanted to ask him if the horse could change too—a cat, maybe? No, perhaps a fish!
Fane and his men rode through her homeland as though they had every right to be there. There was no caution—no hands clutched around weapons or eyes watchful for her father’s guard. They laughed and joked with each other the whole way, talking around her as though she wasn’t there at all. She’d liked it at first, content to plan what she’d say when she saw her father. Now that they were nearly there, she wanted someone to tell her what would happen. Did they intend to just ride through the gates without so much as a by-your-leave? Would they attack the nearby village if they were denied? What would happen if her father wouldn’t let them in?
People watched their passing with expressions that ranged from surprise to terror. Mothers ran for their children, pushing them towards their homes like frantic hens while men clutched their pitchforks and scythes to their chests. Several crossed themselves when they caught sight of Cora in the midst of the wildling band, their mouths moving in silent prayers. Cora fought the urge to scoff when one woman fell to her knees, hands clasped at her chest as she pleaded loudly to God for deliverance of their lady from the evil men who’d kidnapped her. God had not saved her last night. God had not struck the beast Fane had become down in his tracks. It stood to reason that if God had any interest in her current predicament at all, he’d decided not to interfere. The priests claimed that God would smite wicked men who displeased him. If that were true, how could such a man as Cillian Fane exist? Was he a demon? Could that be the answer to his unbelievable abilities?
She’d never considered herself to be particularly religious before this. She’d spent most mornings in mass trying not to fall asleep in her chair, and though her father paid lip service to the priests of the church, religion had never been a defining part of their home. Still, with no other explanation, Cora latched onto any idea that might make sense out of what she’d seen.
When the company finally approached the gate of her home, they were met by the head of her father’s personal guard. Éogan had served her father long before her birth and, until meeting Cillian Fane, had been the most frightening man she knew.
“What business do you have here, Fane? These are peaceful lands—nothing here for the likes of you and your wildlings.” Éogan held his great broadsword in front of him, a silent threat to Fane and his men.
Fane leaned back in his saddle, clearly unbothered by the old warrior. “Put that toothpick away, old man. I have business with your master; if you’d be so kind as to fetch him—there’s a good lad.”
Éogan bared his teeth, digging the point of his sword into the ground. “I’m no lad, boy. And My Lord Kilkenny asked for your aid—against my suggestion, I might add. You refused, so as I see it, you’ve no business here at all. Go back to your woods, Wildling. You’re not welcome here.”
Before Fane could open his mouth to antagonize Éogan more, Cora nudged Epona out from the middle of the company. The old guard gasped, his eyes wide, when she brought her horse to a stop next to Fane’s stallion. “Éogan, he speaks the truth. Please, let us pass and inform my father that I must speak with him immediately.”
“My Lady Cora—Blessed Virgin be praised! Where have you been, lass? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Éogan glared at Fane, curling his lip in disgust. “And what are you doing with these scoundrels?”
Cora straightened in her saddle and hoped she’d sound more in control than she felt. “I’m afraid that’s information for my lord father and no one else. I ask you again, let us pass and fetch him. We—that is, I have matters to discuss with him.”
Éogan stared at them for a long moment before calling to the gate guards, “Open the gate! Lady Cora has returned to us!”
The gate creaked and groaned as it opened, a testament to how rarely it was actually closed. More often than not, her father left it open to make himself more available to his people. The fact that it had been shut was a sign that something wasn’t right.
With the gate fully opened, she guided Epona inside. Once in the courtyard, they dismounted. Cora thanked the stable hand who helped her down. The poor lad who approached Fane withered under his stern expression. “You’ll treat that horse like he’s the king of all Ireland, you hear?”
The boy nodded, trembling under the weight of Fane’s glare. His company followed behind as they walked to the main hall. Though her father wasn’t as wealthy as some of the other lords, it was startling to see the men’s muddy trousers, worn animal skins, and ragged beards next to the well-kept finery of her father’s household.
A moment later, Éogan returned. “I’ve summoned Lord Kilkenny. He’ll receive you in the main hall shortly.” He swept disapproving eyes over the small company. “Your men are to wait in the courtyard until your business is concluded, and...” he paused to look them up and down. “Should there be any trouble at all, you’ll be escorted from the castle grounds faster than you can blink.”
Cora expected an argument—something about how the company would stay right where they were so that he could look sufficiently menacing surrounded by his wildlings. To her surprise, Fane nodded in agreement.
He gestured to his second in command, a man she’d learned was called Cathall, and calmly instructed, “Keep the lads away from the kitchen girls—we won’t be long. And best take this.”
He unbuckled his sword belt and handed his large arming sword to Cathall. He smiled charmingly at Éogan and said, “Wouldn’t want our dear hosts to worry about our intentions, now would we?”
Cora realized Fane’s voluntary surrender of his only weapon must have seemed strange. It wasn’t uncommon for men to wear a sword or dagger in the house of a friend, let alone somewhere where they weren’t trusted or wanted. Éogan watched the exchange suspiciously as though trying to puzzle out what trick Fane must be playing.