Bloodmark (2 page)

He snorted his disapproval at me as he held out his hand for Mother. “My queen,” he said.

“Thank you, Dillon,” she replied.

He looked at me again with a frown before looking back to her. “Follow me, m’lady.” His criticism should have bothered me, but I was too excited.

Mother and I left our trunks with our driver and walked through the old, patinaed gate and followed him down the small, winding staircase into the dark underground. We stepped around the signs notifying tourists that it was unsafe beyond that point and continued down another flight of stairs into the deep earth.

I didn’t see them, but I could smell the guards as we approached a solid stone wall. The only marking was the Boru Bloodmark carved into stone. Mother put her hand on the mark, and the wall began to open, revealing a hidden door. The ancient magic of our kind pulsed with the unified heartbeat of our pack. In this place, we were one. We stepped into the underground labyrinth of the Boru Kingdom, hidden underneath the earth for over a thousand years. Human generations had come and gone, but our kind stood watch over them.

“Who’s Dillon?” I asked as we continued to follow him through a grand carved-limestone doorway.

“He’s the head of the guard,” she said. “This is my bedchamber.”

Mother’s bedchamber was exquisite in every detail. Two guards carried our travel trunks into the room and set them down. I was curious to see other werewolves, and I watched them intently. I had spent my whole life with just Mother and visits from my brother Mund. I barely even knew my other brothers.

“When can we see Father?” I asked.

“We must freshen up before your father receives us. Now hurry, love, he is expecting us,” Mother said.

I slipped on an ivory satin dress—simple, but I knew Mother would approve. “Who’s going to be there?” I asked.

“I believe all packs loyal to the Boru will be there.” Mother began weaving my wild, red hair into braids like hers. “You’ll meet the Swiss Kingerys, the Spanish Costas, the Cree Indian Four-Claws of Canada, the African Sylla, the Scottish Killians, the Welsh Kahedins, and my family, the Greek Vanirs. And of course, your father and brothers will all be there.”

I had seen Father only a handful of times and my brothers even less. I was nervous to live up to their expectations. “What if they don’t like me?”

“Like you?” Mother smiled. “They will love you.”

A light knock came to the door, and my heart pounded with anticipation. My brother Mund grinned. “Ash, you look lovely,” he said. I couldn’t stop smiling.

Mund was my favorite brother; he visited me monthly as long as I could remember. He was handsome with dark-brown eyes and his shoulder-length, wavy brown hair. He looked no more than eighteen years old, but I knew him to be nearly four hundred. Wolves only began showing age when they were badly injured or when they missed a full moon without shifting, and Mund had been lucky in that respect. Despite his age, his style was sophisticated and modern, from the cut of his light-gray suit coat to the tips of his white, collared shirt. He kissed us each on the cheeks before continuing. “Father wants you both to join him in the War Room.”

Mother frowned. “Why does he not first receive us in our family chambers?”

“Flin summoned us.”

Flin was my eldest brother and Father’s first in command. I met him once, but he didn’t approve of me. Mother had said it was because Flin was envious of my power to shift into a wolf from birth, unlike the rest of my kind, who had to wait until adolescence. I knew that was why they hid me in the countryside of Ireland for fourteen years; I was an embarrassment.

“This is not proper etiquette,” Mother said, “but no matter. We shall go to him. Father is a busy man.” She gave my hand a little squeeze as we walked down the stone halls of our underground kingdom. The limestone walls were carved with our history. I ran my fingers over the rough texture, feeling the cool stone and, with it, the energy of the pack. For the first time in my life, I felt a connection to them.

We followed Mund into a large, round room filled with books, maps, and priceless paintings by the masters—all items the humans assumed had been lost over the centuries. We protected the humans’ past just as we protected their future.

Father’s thick, spicy scent filled the room. He leaned over a large map on the center stone table. He was strong and stocky, and his reddish-gray hair was swept back, but it was his full red beard that the legends all spoke of; he was a warrior king. Today, he was dressed in traditional linens and leather with a fur hide draped down his back like a cape. He wore a large copper Celtic belt buckle at his waist. His appearance was intimidating; if I didn’t know he was my father, I might have trembled in his presence. I hadn’t bonded with him as I had with Mother and Mund, but I could still smell his emotions—his fear washed over me as I entered the room.

A very refined man stood next to him, dressed in a fine suit with a velvet jacket. He was near Father’s age in appearance, though I couldn’t be certain how old he really was. Standing in Father’s presence made my palms begin to sweat; I was excited and scared at the same time. I felt as though I could faint from my anxiety. I wanted to stare at him and study every feature of his face—I barely knew him, and I often forgot what he looked like. Most of all, I wanted to rush into Father’s arms and cling to him, but Mund’s hand on my shoulder kept me in my place with him and Mother as we waited to be addressed. I knew it was proper to wait, but what place did etiquette have with my own father? It felt like an eternity, but patience wasn’t a virtue I seemed to possess. Finally, Father looked up at Mother. “Nessa,” he said, “you remember Lord Beldig Kahedin.”

He was the father of Tegan, Mund’s wife. I heard many stories of his greatness in battle. Mother smiled as Lord Beldig kissed her cheeks—first left, then right. “My queen,” he said.

“It feels only yesterday since our Mund married Tegan,” she said.

“Already a decade has passed,” he replied. Time was nothing to our kind.

“May I present our daughter, Ashling,” she said, gesturing for me to join her side. I stumbled my first step forward but quickly recovered.

“I am honored,” he said. “You look so much like your mother.”

“Thank you, sir.”

I blushed and looked away, suddenly distracted by the silver chains, shackles, and knives displayed on the far wall. They weren’t commonly used anymore, but I knew what they were for—torture devices used on wolves who broke the laws of our kind throughout the centuries. If pure silver touched werewolves’ skin, even for a moment, it would render us temporarily mortal and it would be impossible to shift into our wolf form until the effects wore off. The longer we would be in contact with the silver, the longer the effects took to wear off. If silver got in direct contact with our blood, the effects were instant and brutally painful. It made my skin crawl just to think about it.

“What business brings you today?” Mother asked. “I trust the Kahedin pack is well?”

Lord Beldig looked as nervous as I felt; he glanced at Father before answering. “The price of a bride.”

There was a tense pause. “Has Brychan found a mate?” Mother replied. Her words were strained; something had changed.

“I have offered Ashling’s hand to Lord Beldig’s son and heir,” father said.

As the words sunk in, I felt my heart sink. Father didn’t want me at all; he had sold me in marriage to his ally’s son. I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking. My own father had betrayed me. My eyes welled up with tears, my misery reaching epidemic proportions.

“She is yet a child of fourteen,” Mother said.

“Old enough by our laws,” Father replied, turning his back on us.

A young male werewolf entered; he appeared to be in his mid-twenties and smelled of black tea and leather spices. Brychan was a darker, more unrefined version of his sister Tegan, though they shared the same beautiful olive skin. He had startling dark-blue eyes, and a slight beard shadowed his face, giving him an even more rugged appearance. His dark-brown hair was slightly messy around his sharp, masculine features. He was taller and more muscular than Mund and wore a full suit that was tight across his chest. He was handsome. I couldn’t quite read his expression, but he seemed amused by something. He leaned casually against the giant globe at the side of the room.

“Lord Brychan, your father and I have come to terms,” Father said to the man. “I present Princess Ashling.”

Brychan looked at me for the first time. My lips quivered with fear and my hands still shook. I’m sure I looked like a scared animal to his inspection, not the bride he had come to bargain for. His posture didn’t change, but his eyes softened; for a brief moment, I wasn’t scared of him.

“Pørr?” Mother interrupted.

Still Father didn’t look at me. “It is done,” he said. Mother froze at his words. I knew she was angry—I could sense her emotions—but she knew her place and wouldn’t question him again. “Ashling, greet your soon-to-be-husband.”

I couldn’t move—I was too scared. Father had just sold me to the highest bidder as if I were nothing more than cattle. His eyes narrowed on me, and the vein in his forehead started to bulge out of the surface of his skin.

“Do as you’re told, child.”

“No,” I said, wiping the tears from my face with the back of my hands.

He crossed the room in less than a heartbeat and roughly placed his large hands on my shoulders, digging his fingernails into my flesh. He leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “You are my property, and you will do as I say.”

“I will not.” My voice was calmer than I could have hoped.

His hand clenched to strike me down for my disobedience, but Mund shielded the blow with his forearm. I flinched from the forceful impact that vibrated through Mund. “Perhaps she is too young to make such a decision,” Mund said. “I will take charge of her until her eighteenth birthday, at which time, Lord Brychan, you can state your claim as her betrothed.”

Before Father could argue, Brychan said, “I agree to your terms, Prince Redmund. I trust her safety to you.”

“I will keep her safe,” Mund said. “Tegan and I will look after her at the cliffs.”

I could see Father’s anger in his hideous expression. Mund’s disloyalty was a disgrace to him. “Nessa, you will resume your position here at the Rock,” Father said.

“Husband, my king, I will fulfill my duty to my daughter until she is wed. You know where to find us.” Her words were soft, but I knew the choice she had made and she would not forgive him.

She wrapped her arm around my shoulder and began leading me from the room when Brychan stopped our path. He studied my tear-stained face. His expression was cold, but his touch was gentle as he put a ring in my hand, closing my fingers over it. “Until we meet again,” he said.

“Thank you,” I whispered. I knew it was only because of his agreement that Mund had won. Brychan had chosen to let me go . . . for now. He bowed, releasing my hand.

I followed Mother and Mund down the hallway, where we met my brother Quinn. “I need you to load my and Tegan’s trunks with Mother and Ashling’s,” Mund told him. “We’ll leave at once.” Quinn didn’t question his elder brother. He quickly kissed Mother’s cheek and ran to complete the task. He looked more like Mother than I did, the same light hair and blue eyes. He was the youngest of my brothers.

“Go straight to the car before he changes his mind. I will meet you there,” Mund said to Mother and me.

We turned and walked swiftly to leave. “Hurry,” Mother said. Her pace quickened as we retraced our footsteps out of the castle and into the daylight. Mother and I climbed into the backseat of the pewter Bentley as Mund and Tegan got in the front. We sped away.

“Ashling . . .” Mund said. I could see him watching me in the rearview mirror. “Brychan is a good man, strong, loyal, and of the Kahedin house. He’d be a good match for you. An honorable match.”

“But I don’t love him, I don’t even know him.”

“There are different kinds of love, Ashling. A love that grows over time with friendship and a binding love that is instant and unstoppable. Both loves are true—just because you didn’t immediately bind with Brychan doesn’t mean he’s a bad match.”

Mother held my hand. “The choice is yours in time,
m’ eudail
.” She often spoke in Gaelic when she said terms of endearment. It made the simple words “my dear” that much more beautiful on her lips, but none of it made me any less angry or sad.

I cried on the way home, staring into the depths of the diamond ring Brychan had given me. It was surrounded by black metal and blue sapphires. It was a beautiful ring, but I didn’t want anything to do with it. It could only remind me of my awful father.

2

Curiosity

Two years had passed, and I hadn’t seen Father since.
Not once had he visited, not one letter did I receive. I never knew why he hated me so or why my very presence put him on edge. I didn’t know him. As the High King of our packs, Mund said it was Father’s duty to remain at the Rock and lead our kind, but I knew better. He was afraid of the power that flowed through my veins—because I was the only wolf to ever be able to shift from birth, he hated me. Perhaps it was jealousy. Still, was I such a hideous beast that I shouldn’t even be a member of his pack? I still felt shame for not screaming all the things I felt the day he tried to damn me into an unwilling marriage with Brychan. If Mund hadn’t stepped in, I would have been Brychan’s wife today . . . his property.

The only wolves I could trust were Mother and Mund. I was even a bit leery of Tegan, as she was Brychan’s sister. Even though she was also Mund’s lovely wife and she was carrying their first child, I barely knew her. She wasn’t terribly easy to get to know, but I was slowly getting comfortable with her. She had moved here only two years ago; before, she lived at the Rock with the rest of my brothers and their wives. I was just glad to have Mund around. Today, I was making my way up the cliffs to watch for his return from the Rock—I missed him terribly.

I resented my father. It disgusted me how easily he could cast me aside, and thinking of it filled my stomach with acidic anger. Still, Mother chose me—even though her place was next to him at the head of our kingdom, not out here on the edge of nowhere. Her love for me was deeper than her duty to the crown. Living out by the cliffs in a mere cottage was no way for a queen to live, but I knew my mother liked the peace of the ocean.