Her Wolf King
Chapter 11: The Brother

THE BROTHER

The castle was still that morning.

Lenore’s feet landed on the bedroom floor, sinking into the grassy carpet, fingers brushing the moss-covered walls as she slipped on a robe draped over the heating rack next to her bed. Outside, through the window with the green curtains half-drawn, she spied not a bird singing, nor a rabbit darting across the lawns.

It sent a sense of foreboding through her, dread resting in the pit of her stomach. She performed her daily ablutions and said a prayer for her family. She thought of Timothy, her younger brother, the blacksmith’s apprentice, and hoped he was doing alright without her. She’d left so suddenly... even before fleeing her wedding with a dangerous animal, she had moved into the Stone residence, so easily leaving her father and brother behind. Was that wrong of her?

Shouldn’t she have stayed to help them?

Lenore put the thought out of her mind as she braided her hair, tying it with a blue grosgrain ribbon, and slipped into a cerulean gown that buttoned to her throat. She wondered where Everett slept. If he slept at all. Last night, they’d had a quiet supper, each eyeing the other with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. Too many secrets lay between them, too much of his past, for her to be truly comfortable in his presence.

Yet in his presence was where she wanted to be. It must have been that she was too used to spending time in the company of others that she preferred not to be alone. Perhaps, she would even choose the half-feral, half-civilized company of her new husband than be alone with the wisps of servant girls or ghosts of housekeepers.

Or so she told herself.

While she had retired to bed, she hadn’t seen him do the same. Was it because their marriage was, well, a marriage of man and wolf, not man and wife? And why did she care? This was a year of her life, nothing more.

Yet the monster... She shuddered. It had seemed so real. And it had been too vivid in her eyes. It had shrunk from her touch. And the horse that was in the stables now... Everett had said it always shied away from him. Was she not as human as she thought? Were her dreams of chasing fairies... were they more real than she suspected?

Stewing in her thoughts as she took bites of buttered toast, Lenore barely noticed the clanging sound of the doorbell that rang out through the entire castle.

Just then, Everett made his arrival known. He was dishevelled, his tunic stained with what looked like dirt, and he wore only one boot.

“Where have you been, and have you ever heard of taking a bath?” she asked, dropping her knife onto the table where it clattered against the white linen, leaving a splotch of jam.

“There’s an intruder on the grounds,” he said, kicking off his remaining scuffed boot.

“Does it have anything to do with the doorbell that just rang?” she asked, turning to him.

“Probably,” he said, as he took the toast from her plate.

Her mouth dropped open and she reached for his wrist. “Get your own breakfast, you madman!”

“So it’s the theft of food that infuriates you? Good to know.” He polished off her other slice. “Needs more jam.”

She picked up her knife. “Don’t provoke me.”

He picked up his own knife, spread butter and jam on a scone, and held it out to her as a peace offering.

Lenore smiled, batted her eyelashes, and smashed it in his face.

The doorbell rang again and they both jumped to their feet, Everett wiping at the clotted cream in his beard with a napkin.

“I’ve never seen someone with such poor table manners.” Everett scowled at her--at least, she thought it might be a scowl, underneath the jam and butter. The scone had fallen to his lap, leaving a splotch of white on his already-dirtied shirt.

“Aren’t you the animal, though?” she asked as he dabbed the napkin in a glass of water, a few droplets rolling down his neck and chest.

He swatted the napkin toward her. She shrunk back, laughing. “We need to see who’s at the door.”

“A man,” he said. “I caught a glimpse of him. Scrawny-looking lad, brown hair, blue eyes... He wore a blacksmith’s apron.”

She froze. “That sounds like my brother.”

“What would he be doing here?” Everett said with a frown. “How would he even have found you?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “May we let him in?”

He worried his lower lip as he cleaned off the remnants of the scone from his beard, a few crumbs on his upper lip. “It could be a fairy in disguise as your brother.”

“I’ll ask him something only that my brother would know,” she said, feeling suddenly homesick at the mere mention of her family.

He tossed the napkin to the table. “Fine. I’ll go get cleaned up... You may let him into the parlour.”

A wolf that had a parlour. She bit back a laugh at the thought and hurried off to greet her brother.

***

Seated in the parlour with cups of tea between them, Lenore fixed her eyes on her brother. He was a few inches taller than her, but bonier, with limbs that constantly seemed on the verge of snapping. Despite his lanky appearance, Timothy Abrahamas was rather capable, sturdy, and knew his way around a blacksmith’s forge. He wore a nervous expression that morning, possibly because his pant legs were shredded by what looked like a wolf’s claws, and his sister had been whisked from the vicissitudes of poverty into the height of luxury.

“I don’t understand,” he said, gazing around the parlour. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting sparkling fractals of light onto the tufted forest-green settee and matching chairs. The parlour looked relatively normal compared to other rooms of the house: claw-foot tables, damask furniture, and a velvety carpet in deep red velvet. “Why are you here? Kirk said that you refused to marry him. And then he said that you ran away... with a wolf? But that makes no sense. Then when I had the tracker bring me here, I thought he might have married you, but sent you away to his summer estate until he... until he had need of you.”

“It’s... hard to explain.” Just as she was reaching for the words to say, the parlour door creaked open. In padded a horse-sized wolf.

Timothy spilled his tea, dropping the cup and saucer onto the carpet and clambering up onto the armchair. He hollered. “What in the blazes?”

Lenore rested her hand on the wolf’s head and scratched it behind the ears like a dog. Everett’s tail even wagged, his green eyes looking satisfied.

“Kirk was right.” She lifted her chin to look up at her brother. “I ran away with a wolf.”

Timothy turned white, then green. His mouth opened, closed, and opened again. “You must be... I must have taken some sort of substance... What was in the tea?”

Everett chose that moment to resume his human appearance, sitting on the settee next to Lenore. “You must be Timothy. I’m Everett Dunstan.”

“You abducted my sister?” At once, Timothy leapt down from the chair onto the carpet. Lenore winced at the sight of his mud-crusted boots on the furniture.

“She made a bargain with me,” he said.

“What are you?” Timothy looked like he wanted to throw Lenore onto his horse and ride away with her.

“Who brought you here?” Everett said, his arm around Lenore’s shoulders. His fingers skimmed her neck, brushing her braid away from her throat. She shivered, his scent wrapping around her: evergreens, mint, rushing water. Cold. Wild. Impossibly primal.

“Answer me first,” Timothy said bravely, lifting his chin. He toyed with the knife hanging from his belt.

Everett snarled, showing his teeth. To Lenore, it looked like a puppy playing at being a beast. To Timothy, it was probably quite terrifying, as he nodded. “Don’t give him another fright,” Lenore whispered.

Everett laughed silently. ’But it’s so much fun.”

Timothy cleared his throat. “Alright, then, it was a hunter. I asked him to track the comings and goings of a certain wolf that sometimes came near the town, which I now assume to be you.”

“The tracker’s name?” Everett prodded.

“Robin,” Timothy replied. “Robin Hood.”

“A name lifted straight from a fairytale.” Everett shook his head. “Someone knows who I am, where I live, and they lied to you. How much did you pay him to bring you here?”

Timothy shook his head. “I didn’t... I didn’t give him anything...”

“So you’re in his debt,” Everett said flatly.

Lenore put her hand on his forearm. “You’re scaring him.”

And me.

“Well... he seemed like a decent bloke...” Her brother was squirming under her husband’s steely gaze. Lenore didn’t know whether she ought to reprimand him or laugh.

“Could you give us a moment alone?” she said, turning to Everett. “There are some things I must discuss with my brother.”

He nodded, and left, not without a vaguely threatening look tossed in Timothy’s direction.

“Timothy,” she said in a hushed tone, going to his side. “Are you quite alright? Did Kirk hurt you, or threaten you at all?”

“Well...” Timothy’s blue eyes were guarded, wary. “He threatened us. He threatened to burn down the smithy if we couldn’t replace you, and then he said that he would make it look like an accident.”

Her stomach turned. The Stones were the most influential family in town. Of course, Kirk would be able to do that. “What did you say?”

“I told him I would replace you... That’s why I came here.” His voice cracked and her heart broke. He was only a boy of sixteen, not yet a man. He shouldn’t have to worry about Kirk Stone threatening to burn him and their father alive.

“You could stay here,” she offered.

“I can’t... If I stay here, he’ll think I ran away, and he might hurt Papa.” Timothy sniffed, but his jaw was set, the glint in his eyes determined.

“Then I guess we’ll have to figure out a plan.” She sighed. “Everett?”

He entered. “Yes, my darling wife?”

“Were you listening at the door?”

“I was in the kitchen, but I assure you, I heard every word.”

“That’s a relief, I hope you’ll be able to help us, then.”

As it turned out, he was more than able.

Dear Mr. Kirk Stone,

I write to you of a business opportunity beyond your wildest dreams. Mines of gold, silver, and precious stones have been discovered near the Northern Mountains, and we are in need of sturdy young men to oversee the removal of these priceless treasures.

As you have extensive experience with forges--so I’ve been told by your worker, Mr. Abrahams--and are an extremely bright, intelligent, and capable man of good birth. Some of the young men who have taken this endeavour have even moved to the Continent, where they have received noble titles and bought swaths of land with a manor and lovely noblewomen for their wives. I assure you, such a life would not be far from your reach, should you choose to take on this venture.

Food, room and board, as well as transport, would be provided for you, and you would lack nothing. If you choose to accept, please pass along this letter to Timothy Abrahams, who has agreed to take on the position of courier for my fine establishment, entitled Smith and Weston Capital. Once received, you will be furnished with a contract, a fine carriage, four horses of good stock, and all that you could need for the journey north.

We hope that you will consider our offer.

Regards,

Messrs Smith and Weston

Lenore stared down at the letter and tried not to laugh. “You drafted this?”

“In my own hand. I assure you, I do know how to read and write, Lenore.” Everett set down the quill on the library table.

“This is an eloquent collection of lies, meaning he will doubtless believe it as you have sufficiently flattered him. Timothy, what do you think?” she said, turning to her brother and sliding the sheet of parchment to him.

He nodded. “Oh, he will believe it. But where will you get the carriage... and the horses... and the things?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Everett said cheerily. Was he... whistling? “One of the benefits of having been alive for nearly three-quarters of a century is that one can amass a great deal of wealth.”

“An immortal, rich werewolf?” Timothy frowned. “What sort of man have you married, Lenore?”

“If I knew, I would tell you.” And as she turned toward her husband, she thought that while every day, she might grow closer to him, she was also dragged further into the confusion of his past.