Unhappily Ever After

Chapter 56 - Down It

It was a miserable day at the castle. What should have been a time of triumph was instead turned to grief for the man who'd known everyone and lived longer than a rogue had any right to.

I was finding it difficult to decide how I felt — although guilty was a given, because our late-night outing couldn't have helped — but Lee for one was inconsolable. He had hardly spoken since we'd got back. Eira was with him now, up on the battlements, and I could see the backs of their heads from my mattress.

Tom hadn't mind-linked, instead choosing to wait until we got back to the castle to break the news. As best I could tell, the old man had passed in his sleep a few minutes after we'd breached the gates. It had been complications from the tumour in his gut, the medics had decided, and there was nothing anyone could have done. That didn't make me feel any better.

One thing, at least, had gone our way. Ivan and the New Dawn fighters had appeared sometime after midnight, taken one look at the looming castle walls and the grim faces atop them and turned around and headed for home. Shadowless hadn't been with them, apparently — they had refused to take part, because they had too many friends at Lle o Dristwch.

And now Vik was here anyway, by invitation, to support his mate. He was sitting with me while he waited for Lexi to finish a conversation with her brother.

"Ivan is ... pissed," he told me. For some reason, he kept staring at the heap of stolen goods at the other end of the room. TVs, radios, games consoles, antique vases, paintings — we'd taken it all. Once it had been sold to the human black market, every raider would get an equal cut.

"Is he?" I asked. "Strange guy, your brother..."

After all, I could have killed him in the valley. It had been seventy against twenty. I could have destroyed his entire pack, and instead I'd just stolen some possessions, all of which were easily replaced.

"And he's pissed that I ain't pissed," Vik went on. "Which I think is bloody stupid, because you didn't do shit to my pack. No, I didn't enjoy losing to your sister, but I can't hate her for winning a fair fight, can I?"

"I guess not," I muttered, although I had thought he would do exactly that, to be honest.

Vik shrugged his shoulders, then caught my eye for a rare, tense moment of eye-contact. "So, you and me — we're cool. As long as you can keep your thieving hands away from Shadowless, there's no reason for us to fight."

Not what I'd been expecting. But Vik had made a habit of surprising me with moments of maturity. Probably, he'd realised that Lle o Dristwch was uncomfortably close to where he was building his pack house, and we could give him hell if we came raiding. And ... maybe ... we were friends again.

"I've got six other packs to raid," I told him. "And I think you might be poorer than I am."

"You're probably right, Llewellyn," he said happily.

And then we broke off our stare before our wolves could involve themselves in the conversation. Less than a minute later, Tom and a tearful Lexi appeared in the doorway. I held a finger to my lips and threw a pointed look at Jess, who was taking a nap on my bed. She should have gone home, really, but she'd decided that could wait until later. It was Wednesday, after all, and we'd agreed that we couldn't shirk our visit to the valley. It would just have to wait until after Dafydd's funeral.

Lexi trudged over to sit on Vik's lap and buried her head in his shoulder. Jess didn't stir, because she was a deep sleeper. We could talk as long as we were quiet.

"Everything's ready?" I asked Tom.

"They've built the pyre, and I sent Mort out for drinks an hour ago, so he should be back already. Not much else I can do," he sighed.