The Alpha's Concubine (Historical Shifter Romance) (65 page)

His body had little left to give, and the midnight calls of feral hunters harried him for many leagues across the darkened land. There was no space for fear in his mind, only the burning motivation to keep his tired legs moving, kicking up stride after stride as he tore through the territory of his rival predators, hoping they had easier prey to distract themselves with that night.

Caspian's tongue lolled from his mouth as the last traces of the plains he knew disappeared behind him, giving way to grassy hills and overhanging trees that threatened to block out the sky and stifle his sense of direction. Before morning he was forced to wade across a river, hoping desperately that the footing would not give way beneath him in the middle and send him and Netya under, to be dragged away by the tug of the current. Morning birdsong reached his ears from among the trees as he hauled his dripping body out on the other side, and he paused for just a moment to catch his breath and swallow a few greedy mouthfuls of water to soothe his parched throat.

His legs trembled with the effort of carrying Netya all day and night. Her heartbeat still drummed against him, but he could have sworn it was fainter now. Was it only his tired mind imagining it, or was the rough journey taking its toll on her, too? How close was he to the North People now? Despite the patches of woodland he was now crossing, he had not yet stepped beyond the borders of the great forest. The route his people usually took led to a larger village even farther to the east, and Caspian had only ever ventured through the forest itself to reach the smaller encampment he now sought.

He would find the distinct scents of the Sun People before long, he told himself. Those would lead him back to their home. He began to run again, breath rasping in his throat as his body seemed to crumple like dried grass with every step, only to spring forward as he grit his teeth and forced one more surge of energy into his legs. Several times he felt the fibres of the strained cords around his body popping. They had rubbed him raw through the night, and the sting of them rasping against his flesh made every movement twice as agonising as it should have been. The smell of his own blood reached his muzzle as the bindings cut into him, testing his resolve moment by moment as he strode on.

The sun was up again, chasing away the murky clouds of the wet season for a short while as it beat down on Caspian's back, making him long for the chill of the night and the shade of the trees again to cool his burning body. By midday all he could feel was pain, and Netya's soft murmurs of discomfort had fallen silent. The grip of her knees around his waist seemed looser. He no longer had the strength to keep shifting beneath her whenever she threatened to slip off balance. Her small body felt heavier than stone as it slumped to the left, dragging him relentlessly to one side as he strained to keep himself from falling over. The uneven weight worsened his burden tenfold, until he was forced to slow to a sluggish plod, finally leaving the heat of the sun behind him as he stepped beneath the boughs of the ancient forest trees.

The musk of damp, aged wood reached his muzzle, and with it came the distant hint of something that did not belong in this natural place. It was the smell of boughs that had been freshly split. Smoke that had crept through the branches day after day, until eventually it had decided to cling there. It was the smell of people, but it was so distant that Caspian could not allow himself to feel relieved. His legs felt like they had nothing left to give, and neither did the distant beating of Netya's heart.

His forepaws slipped, sending his muzzle burrowing into the loamy earth beneath him. Netya's weight lurched even more haphazardly to the side, dragging him down as he collapsed next to her. He snorted soil from his muzzle, blinking dizzily through the mottled sunlight that spilled down through the canopy above. He did not have the strength to get up. He tasted blood and earth, and the tang of terrible despair that dug its claws tighter into his body with each passing moment.

His side rose and fell heavily. He closed his eyes as Netya's warm body nestled against him. He was here with her, at least. Her spirit would never stray far from his.

A whimper of pain left her lips, and her fingers tightened in his fur.

Opening his eyes, Caspian clenched his teeth, and he forced himself to move. His body felt like it was tearing as he howled at the trees above, dragging himself back to his feet and pulling Netya up with him. Neither of them were dead yet.

* * *

Wooden walls, and the creak of a wooden cot beneath her. Familiar words spoken in a language she had not heard in many weeks. Was she home in her bed again, after all this time? A snag of distraction tugged at the back of her mind, one that she could not remember being there before. It was like a niggling pair of teeth gnawing at the nape of her neck, urging her toward something she did not understand. Her body felt like it was recovering from a long fever. Dull aches and stiffness lingered deep in her bones, but already they seemed dim and meaningless. A sudden urge to run gripped her, as if it was a way to shake off the remnants of her discomfort for good.

She reached down beneath the warms furs that covered her, touching the spot to the right of her navel that she remembered being pierced by a wolf's fangs. There was a scar, but no wound. It did not even hurt at all. A spindly spider danced up its strand of web, scaling the wall of logs to her left. She turned her head in the opposite direction, and found a familiar face waiting to greet her.

"Caspian," she whispered, reaching out to touch him. He took her hand and held it to his cheek, kissing her wrist as though she was the sweetest fruit he had ever tasted.

"You are back with me," he said.

Netya's brow furrowed as she tried to remember. She had been with him before, when her dreams had been troubled with pain. Her guardian wolf had been there also, making it difficult to tell the two of them apart. They had seemed one and the same.

Caspian did not press her to speak. He only held her hand tight, drinking in her closeness and letting her share in his. She recalled the valley, and the chill of the snow. The fight between Khelt and Adel came back to her, and she sat up with a start. Caspian put a palm against her shoulder, easing her back down as her head swam and her vision exploded with bursts of colour. Her body might have been ready to move, but something else still fogged her mind.

"Do not worry yourself," he said. "The pack is well. Your life was the only one we feared losing."

Netya rested her head back against the soft fleecy bundle beneath it. "What is this place?"

"We are with the North People." Caspian straightened up, and gestured behind him. A large man with hair the colour of fire rose from where he sat on the earthen floor, his thick braids swaying around his lined face as he looked down on Netya with a smile. It was only then that she realised she had been speaking with Caspian in her native tongue.

"Your wolf-kind friend was half dead himself when he arrived with you. He is fortunate we recognised him as one of our friends from the plains."

"Shaman Lutek's medicine was able to keep you with us," Caspian said. "He put you into a deep sleep for two days while your body fought the sickness."

"The wolves from the west are not always as agreeable as your pack," Lutek said. "I have had to heal the work of their bites many times in years gone by. You will feel unwell from the herbs I gave you, but your body will cleanse them fast. To survive the curse of the wolf-kind is to be blessed with their strength from that day on."

The niggle at the back of Netya's mind tugged a little harder at the shaman's words. Unable to pull her right hand away from Caspian's grip, she reached out with her left to grasp Lutek's broad palm in thanks. "I have little to give but my gratitude. If there is anything else I can do to repay your kindness, you need only ask."

"Your man tells me you are a seer. I would be curious to learn the ways of the wolf-kind witches."

Netya smiled at him. "I am only an apprentice, but I would be happy to share with you all I can."

The shaman bowed his head, then left the two of them alone as he ducked out through the drape covering the doorway.

Netya and Caspian gazed at one another for a long time. She curled her fingers gently through the hair at the back of his head, never wanting to let go. He did not look to have moved from his place by her side in days. Despite the tiredness in his expression, his eyes sparkled with relief.

"Khelt's bite—" she said at last. "Adel once told me what its sickness did to those of my kind. How long has it been since it happened?"

"Little more than a week."

Netya reached beneath the furs to touch her wound again. It could not have healed so thoroughly in such a short time. She looked back up at Caspian. "I am like you now, aren't I?"

He pressed his lips together, and nodded. "I fear so."

"I feel something that was not there before. In my thoughts. Like a voice without words."

"A newborn wolf, given life in the body of a fully grown woman," Caspian said. "I do not know what it will mean for you. Our kind have many years to become accustomed to our wolves before they rise up inside us."

"I am not afraid," Netya said, cupping his cheek again. "Not with you and the others to guide me."

Caspian smiled, the corners of his eyes glistening as he knelt beside her cot and drew her into his arms. "Everything about you is beautiful, Netya." He kissed her neck. "I could never have let you go."

She closed her eyes, clinging on to him tight. "You have always had my love."

"And you mine. I will not let it slip away again."

They embraced until Netya felt herself becoming lightheaded, and Caspian allowed her to lie back down against the bedding.

"Where are the others?" she asked.

"Coming north to meet us. Fern arrived a day before you awoke. Once Lutek became certain you had overcome the infection, she hurried back to tell the others."

"What will happen when they arrive?"

Caspian paused, combing her hair back from her forehead with his fingertips. "I do not know. Khelt had not been the same since the night in the valley."

"I think he realised the truth of what he had done. Him and Adel both. Their hearts are good, but their tempers toward one another blinded them to it."

"I hope you are right. The pack may not survive another rift between them."

Netya brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. The fogginess in her head was making her weary, and she felt sleep calling again. "Even if the pack does not survive," she said softly. "I will always stay with you."

* * *

In the days that passed after the mountains, Khelt began to realise that his pack could no longer remain as it had once been. He desired a great many things, most of them for the people whose safety he was tasked with, but some for his own sake also. He wanted the pack to be safe and settled once again. He wanted Adel to finally admit her fault and listen to him. Most of all, he desired Netya's forgiveness.

As bitter a realisation as it was, it was not difficult for the alpha to accept that many of the things he desired could no longer come to pass. Too much had been risked, too much had been changed, and things had been done that could no longer be taken back. The burdens upon him were many, and it was his task to shoulder their weight once more. It was his duty as alpha.

For the first time in many years, he took counsel with Adel, and the two of them talked. It was not a long conversation, nor was it an amicable one. There was little to say that they had not each come to realise on their own. They had crossed a breaking point, and their wolves had tried to kill one another. Neither of them retained any illusions of continuing to coexist peacefully.

Their conversation was not pleasant, but it was devoid of anger. Bitter, cold truths were voiced, and the alpha and den mother listened to one another until they both came to the same inevitable conclusion.

Leaving the pack in Adel's charge, Khelt left with Fern and a handful of others to travel north when word of Netya's safety arrived. There were important questions to pose to the pack still, but first he needed to face the shame that tormented him night and day. He and Adel both understood the responsibility they shared for what had happened, but it had been Khelt's bite that pierced Netya's side. He would always remember it, and so would she.

They arrived at the outskirts of the North People's village early one morning. Rather than intruding on the hospitality of their allies, Khelt insisted they make camp a short distance away from the collection of log houses that nestled between the old trees. It was a tradition he had long held when visiting the North People, but this time he observed it for his own reasons. He did not want to walk among them with his shame. He did not want them to look upon him and see the beast who had mauled the girl they were tending.

Fern went on to announce their arrival, but she did not return right away. In her stead, Caspian came.

Khelt rose to his feet as soon as he saw his friend approaching through the trees, hurrying to meet him before any of the others had the opportunity to accost him with questions.

"Come, speak with me alone," he said. "There are things I must say." He held his breath, waiting for the anger to come. He had more than earned Caspian's ire, and he was ready to endure it. Khelt had fought with many of his male companions when he was younger, but never Caspian. Perhaps now was finally the time.