Page 23 of A Wolf's Bargain

“Sorry, lass. I didn’t know.”

They fell into silence then. Cora wondered if he felt as out of sorts as she did. He’d seemed so much larger than life when she met him. Since then, he’d been a whirlwind of contradictions. She’d had a picture in her mind of what Cillian Fane the Wolf King would be like, and she’d expected him to be cold and hard. Cruel, even. She hadn’t expected a man who’d be patient with her on her wedding night or apologize for her mother’s death.

After they were both dressed, he led her outside. It was still early, but people were already busy. Some men banked fires, while others took on domestic tasks like washing and mending. Cillian led her toward a group of men seated on logs around the remains of last night’s fire. Cora noticed they each wore a wolf skin around their shoulders as Cillian did, with the same gold pin. They passed pieces of bread and strips of meat around, laughing and chatting amicably as they ate. Whatever she’d imagined of the wolf-men of Bran’s stories, she hadn’t expected them to seem so... normal.

The moment the men spotted them approaching, they erupted into loud cheers. Several stood, congratulating Cillianwith a thump on the back. A few offered crude suggestions for their marital life, which Cora did her best to ignore.

Once they’d settled, Cillian wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to his side. “Deartháireacha, say hello to my wife, Cora. Cora, these are my brothers.”

Cora stared at the group of men in shock. “Brothers? What, all of them?”

Laughter rippled through the group, except for one man. He sat at the edge of the group and scowled into his drink. Cillian chuckled and said, “Not as you’d think it, no. The luchthonn live in family groups and raise their pups together. Blood or not, we are clan and pack. In all the ways that matter, we are brothers.” He thumped the scowling man on his back. “Even Eoin here, though he’d just as soon use us for rugs most days!”

Eoin’s scowl deepened. He shrugged Cillian’s hand away, baring his teeth in an animalistic snarl. The teasing laughter disappeared, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence. Some stared at Eoin in shock, while others cast worried glances toward Cillian.

Cillian’s cheerful demeanor disappeared, replaced by something cold and hard. He stared into Eoin’s eyes and held his gaze without so much as a blink. No one said a word, but even Cora understood the power play at hand. She’d seen shades of it over the years in soldiers and merchants around the castle. Anytime a fresh-faced recruit got too big for his drawers, Éogan would put him soundly in his place. More than once, she’d watched her father intimidate a merchant set on cheating them out of money or resources.

This was more, somehow. Something about Cillian’s expression froze her in place. He’d treated her with such kindness that morning that she’d almost forgotten who and what he was. For the first time since she met him, he looked exactly like his moniker—a king, and a feral one at that. Truthfully,when she’d first approached him, she’d expected him to be this way—brutal and fearsome. But he hadn’t been, to her surprise, and she wasn’t sure why the sudden shift bothered her as much as it did.

It took only moments for Eoin to look away. He rose to his feet without a word and bowed stiffly to Cillian before stalking away.

“Ah, to be young and stupid again,” an older man in the group said, shaking his head. “I miss the days of having more balls than sense.”

The tension broke like a wave on the shore. With a few good-natured jabs about the man’s balls and lack of sense, the men resumed their conversations.

Cillian's expression remained cool and calculating as he watched the young man walk away before glancing down at her. “My apologies,” he said, gesturing toward a nearby log with a small smile. “A seat for you, My Lady?”

A few minutes later, it was as though the strange interaction had never happened. The men joked and jostled each other, passing food around the circle and introducing themselves one by one. Cora surprised herself by enjoying the easy camaraderie and did her best to push her curiosity aside.

It was easier said than done.

Chapter 11

Cora

There were no other women in the camp.

Not a single one.

It was a testament to how distracted she’d been the past few days that she hadn’t realized until then. It was only when Cillian had given her a task to “keep her busy” that she’d noticed it at all. After hearing about her visits to the Ossory villages, he’d suggested that she use her skills to aid his men. At first, she’d been happy—relieved, even—to have something familiar to cling to. Surely, she’d thought, losing herself in caring for others would be a welcome reprieve from her husband and the uncomfortable thoughts he inspired.

The reality was not so simple. At home—her father’s home—she’d cared for those with minor illnesses and injuries in the surrounding villages. The villagers would come to her for fevers, cuts, and infections. On occasion, someone with a broken bone might be brought to her, but serious illness and injuries were rare. Not because they didn’t happen, mind, but because those who suffered them rarely lived long enough to be brought to the castle. The English attack had been by far the most brutal test of her skills, and it wasn’t something she wished to repeat.

The first morning of her assignment, two young men carried their friend to her after an unfortunate encounter with a bear. Blood soaked the makeshift bandages they’d wrapped around the deep gashes. It was immediately clear that the injuries were too severe to heal on their own. She’d called for supplies only to be presented with her next challenge—there were none. Well, to be fair, there was no end of linen strips or alcohol to numb thedrinker’s pain. But herbs? Salves? Horsehair threads or catgut to sew wounds? There was nothing.

She’d scrambled to help the boy, forgetting her proper manners in favor of shouting at his friends to hurry and find her whatever they had to help her. One had plucked a hair from a very unhappy horse’s tail, and the other had swiped a needle from someone mending their clothes. Hot water was easy enough to come by, and with the help of the two boys and multiple prayers, she saved him.

Afterward, still fuming, she’d searched for her husband only to find that he’d left that morning with a handful of his men. Some lord or another had hired them to track a band of highwaymen a day’s ride away. He hadn’t said a word to her about being gone. Not that he owed her anything at all, but she’d assumed, what with being his wife, that he might at least tell her if he’d be gone for days.

Apparently not.

Determined to make do on her own, Cora searched for resources herself. The women in her father’s kitchens always had useful herbs and ingredients on hand. She’d thought it would be a simple enough matter to search out the camp’s women and borrow some of their stores.

She’d been wrong.

Which led her to her current realization.

There were no other women in the entire camp.