The Lycan King & I.

//five//

Part I: Chapter Five
Eliette Mercer
Camp
October

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I can't sleep.

The small wooden stove near the bed warmed the tent considerably, the cold no longer bothering me. The wind was howling loudly against the tent, but that's not what keeps me up. My eyes sting with each blink and water with each yawn. I'm exhausted. But still, slumber doesn't come. 

I cuddle further into his clock, the Kings Cloak.

It feels positively sinful against my skin. It is made of a sleek material, one I'd never seen in my life. As if the rich fabric isn't enticing enough, the scent clung heavily to it. I breathe in another whiff of the sleeve, it's divine. I couldn't quite pinpoint it, it felt like a mix of different fragrances: fresh cedar, a touch of earthy black pepper... and the faintest hint of green grass so subtle that I may be imagining it. I savor each inhale and the slight stillness it brings me.

I toss and turn all night. It's not until a loud howl startles me awake that I realized I've actually dozed off. It's morning, but even the sun doesn't look like it's fully risen. The tent is filled with orange and pink hues from the sunrise, I admire it's beautiful refection against the white canvas, my eyes stopping when I catch sight of the small pile atop my trunk.

I jump out of bed to inspect further, a cloak made of the same luxurious material as the kings is laid out. It wasn't black like the rest of the men in our entourage, but red. Deep, dark and rosy. I'd never owned anything so extravagant. This surly had to have cost more than the meager coins I provided Wells with, which is why I nearly gasp when a matching hat and gloves fall out of the folds of the the materials.

"Underlings do not take from Wolves," Esmere's words hiss in my ear. It wasn't the first time I'd heard that mantra. I'd been ten years old, in my first pack assignment, when I learned this lesson. The keeper for underlings at the time did not have much patience for me, being I was so young. I am brought back to a day I had grabbed a freshly baked cookie from the table of the home I was staying in, warm and rich with chocolate. I foolishly thought it was left out for all to grab, not understanding it was a test I had failed. The lesson stuck with me everyday since.

Esmere had said to follow all the lessons I had learned in my time with the Middle Kingdom, meaning I couldn't take from the wolves.

After I ready myself, I emerge from my tent with the intention of returning the matching set. It was too extravagant, too burdensome. Favors like this had prices eventually, and I didn't want to figure out what the cost would be. I nearly jump into the glowing fire pit when I feel the harsh sting of the mountain air against my skin. And it was supposed to get colder than this?

"Good morning, my Lady," I flinch when I hear his voice, Axle's ever present gruffness still making me uneasy. He is crouched next to the fire, extinguishing it's flames. Was it the morning sun that made him look extra menacingly? His brow was furrowed, the scars of claws marking his cheek. "I'd put on the coat, it's only going to get colder."

From his lips, It doesn't sound like a suggestion. It sounds like a grim warning, without room for disobedience. Without thought, and with some relief, I throw the cloak around my frame. Thoughts of stealing melt away with the protection it provides against the chilled air.

The camp bustles around me with movement, packing up and preparing for today's journey. I hang in the back, trying to stay out of their way. When they're all packed up, Axle leads me back to the black car, opening the door for me. I crawl in, the King already on the other side of the leather row. Wells sits in the drivers seat this time, Axle next to him.