“There's a contingent of guards on the quayside,” I noted as The Sea Wolf returned to Cuannagealán’s harbour.
Following my gaze, Cróga’s deep frown reappeared, pinching his brow. “Something must have happened.”
“Aonair, do you think? Or mother? She is close to giving birth...” I asked, although neither felt likely.
“A medical emergency wouldn't require guards,” my brother answered, although I'd already known that in my heart.
Anxiety built as the ship approached the jetty, and sailors tossed mooring lines to those who waited to secure The Sea Wolf at her usual berth. Cróga's posture grew ever more stiff, and I suspected he regretted agreeing to go sailing with me. If something bad had happened, and he hadn't been here to stop it, he'd never forgive himself. That much was written in his expression as the gangplank slid into place and he strode down to meet the waiting guards. I followed in his wake, nervous and unsure, praying that the guards were simply performing some training excecise.
“Lord Cróga, Lady Fiáin,” the captain greeted us, his expression grim as he focussed on my brother. “I'm afraid I carry bad news; an elven family coming across the causeway from the mainland has been attacked, and the citadel is on alert. I am to escort Lady Fiáin to the tower, and then your father asked me to accompany you to the causeway, where he, Lord Éirimiúil, Lady Aisling, and Lady Céillí are attempting to track the culprit.”
“I should join them too, then,” I interrupted, perhaps feeling braver for having been out at sea, and having brought down the doe. “I can track as better that Ais, Éiri, or Céillí...”
“Your Lord Father gave specific instructions, m'lady,” the guard interrupted, shaking his head. “You are to return to the watchtower.”
My own brow pinched into a frown that was almost as deep as Cróga's, and when my brother murmured, “Do as you're told, Fiáin,” irritation blossomed too.
How could they all say I held myself back, when they treated me like one of the cubs? I didn't have to fight whoever we were hunting. I could leave that to my father and Cróga. I could still track, though.
“But...”
“No, Fiáin!” Cróga growled, dark eyes casting a reproving glance at me as the wolf in him pressed forward, demanding my mute obedience.
It stung that he would dismiss me so easily. That for all their bluster about my ability to be more than I allowed, my family really did find me useless. For the first time in years, I glared right back at my sibling, without lowering my head, then I turned to the guard and demanded, “You will tell me what you know, captain. Why must I be hidden away in the tower? Who attacked the family? A highwayman?”
We hadn't seen highwaymen on our island in decades, but anything was possible, and I couldn't think of any other likely assailant.
“No, m'lady...” the guard hesitated, glancing between me and my sibling, even as Cróga bristled beside me, but when he made no move to interrupt, the captain admitted, “They said it was a wolf. A white wolf. And that the end of his tail was missing.”
Whatever strength my body had left me in a rush, and if Cróga hadn't steadied me, I might have tipped off the Quayside and into the murky harbour water. Ice cold poured over me, and my stomach knotted, even as iron bands of fear tightened around my chest. I wanted to deny it. To say his claims couldn't possibly be true. But the apology in the captain's expression and the way Cróga kept a hold of me told me that this was no cruel joke. My twin’s murderer had come back. He'd attacked travellers on the road, just as he'd once attacked Misniúil, and there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn't avenge my brother. I couldn't protect my citadel. Because I felt terrified.
“You should go to the tower,” Cróga encouraged, his tone softening a little. “You shouldn't have pressed the matter, Fiáin.”
That, at least, drew a snarl from my lips, “Why not? So you could lie to me again? So you could hide the truth from your poor, fragile sister? Go on, brother; our father is waiting for you.”
With that, I stomped towards the stone stairs that rose up the headland, feeling unsteady on legs that didn't want to stand, and struggling to stage my angry exit while also being too afraid to get too far ahead of my brother and the guards. Damn them all. Damn the white wolf for all the pain he'd caused. Damn my family for always seeing the shadow of the timid cub I'd been behind my eyes. But most of all, damn me. Damn me for my fear, my weakness, and my failings. I should have been more. I should have been Lady Fiáin Túrfaire, but I wasn't. I was just Fiáin. I'd never be more than that, and I'd rarely felt more ashamed.
When we reached the tower, I said nothing to Cróga, heading inside without so much as a backward glance as he and the guards continued on the way to meet up with my father and older siblings. Unfortunately, I couldn’t avoid everyone, and my mother waited in the corridor that led to the great hall where were usually ate as a pack.
“Fiáin... I'd ask if you've heard, but from your expression it's clear that you have,” she observed, her green-blue eyes gentle and concerned. “Come here, child.”
“I don't need your pity,” I snapped, and immediately regretted it as my mother pulled herself up to her full height, her expression hardening.
“Come here, Fiáin,” she said again; the order of an alpha female rather than the concerned request of a mother wolf.
How many more of my family could I nettle in one day? Had bringing down a single doe really caused me to defy those I knew to be stronger and braver than me? Dare I continue to defy my mother when doing so would force her to make an example of me? Packs maintained order because the alpha pair were uncompromising, and because the rest trusted them to lead. In-fighting served no purpose unless the patriarch and matriarch were failing somehow, which my parents certainly weren't.
Sighing, I lowered my head, my shoulders slumping as I went to my mother's side. If I had been in my other form, I would have rolled onto my back, giving her my belly in an act of trust and submission. Instead, I dropped to my knees, my head still bowed as I fought to hold back tears.
My mother's fingers brushed through my sea-tangled hair as she murmured, “You smell of the ocean. I'm pleased you persuaded Cróga to join you, I'm just sorry you came back to this. Did you have fun on The Sea Wolf?”
Was that really what she wanted to talk about? Not how my brother’s killer had reappeared after so many years?
“It doesn't matter,” I answered, struggling to keep the frustrated growl from my voice. “It's not important.”
“It's more important that you realise,” Lady Brí Túrfaire answered, her fingers still teasing the knots from my hair as I knelt at her feet. “Your brother needs to be reminded that he's allowed to enjoy life occasionally. I hope, when he finds his mate, she will remind him of that. But for now, I'm grateful for every game Taibhreamh instigates and every second of companionship you manage to offer. Cróga needs to be surrounded by a family that has his back, and even as you start to go your own ways, I hope he creates his own pack in the image of this own, where we do have each other's backs.”
“Whose back do I have, mother?” I demanded without looking up at her. “I'm in here while they are out there, searching for Misniúil’s killer... What if he hurts one of the others? Father shouldn't even be out there...”
My mother's fingers ceased their work as her hands dropped to her sides. “Why shouldn't your father protect his pack, daughter?”
Curling in on myself, I shook my head. I couldn't tell her that her mate's death could be on the horizon. Cróga had ordered me no to, and his orders where an echo of my father's. I couldn't reveal that the sacred tree had begun to turn, or that one day soon an oracle's prophecy might steal our patriarch and catapult Cróga into a position I doubted he truly wanted.
“No reason,” I breathed. “They should just all be careful.”
My mother sighed, her hand curving around the prominent bump which gave away her condition as she admitted, “I wish that these two would grow up knowing their father as well as the rest of you, but I know they won't. I know about the tree, Fiáin. Despite you father and brother's secrecy, I've been to the grotto where the ash stands. I've seen the leaves and walked through those that have already fallen. But it won't be the white wolf who takes him from us.”
My head jerked up in surprise, and I found tears welling in my mother’s unusually pained eyes. “I'm sorry,” I breathed.
“It's not your doing,” she reminded me as she tugged me to my feet and led me to the hall. “I've grieved for your brother for so long, and I'm not ready to grieve for your father, but I fear that’s the nature of loss; no one is ever ready, but we must keep going all the same.”
“It sounds so simple when said like that,” I observed, but the ache in my chest said it wasn't. “Reality is far more complex. How do you keep going when loss has made you afraid?”
Guiding me towards one of the tables, where a hastily prepared selection of cured meats, cheeses, bread, and fruit had been laid out in place of the usual evening meal, she pushed me down onto one of the benches. My mother sat next to me, loading up one of the carved wooden platters for herself then nodding for me to do the same.
“You keep going for any number of reasons, to honour the memory of those you've lost, who wouldn't want you to live your life trapped in one grim moment,” she responded as she pushed cured mean around her plate. “You do it because by moving forward, you take the memories of those you lost into new places, and in doing so, you keep them alive, in a way, in your heart. And you do it because the alternative is worse. If fear holds you, bound too tightly to stand, you risk being unable to help when family and friends need you the most. Isn’t it less frightening to stand and perhaps ensure your other loved ones’ survival, than it is to sit by while they fight and fall without you?”
Prodding at a slice of orange coloured cheese, I murmured, “So you think I should be out there too, helping to search for the white wolf.”
“No,” my mother denied as she took a bite of honey roasted ham. “I think there is value in knowing your own weaknesses and not being a distraction for the others. However, the very fact you said ‘too' implies that you think you should be out there. Somewhere, hidden beneath your fear and doubt, you think you should be as able as Céilli and Aisling, maybe even Éirimiúil.”
“That's not true.” I shook my head, emphatic. “And even if it was, you don't agree.”
“No, I don't,” my mother answered, but rather than scorn, there was something else in her expression as she appraised me, only I couldn't fathom what it was. Pride? Faith? Something else entirely? I didn't know as she added, “I think you should be more able than Aonair and Eadránaí, as able as Cróga and me, and maybe as able as your father. I fear you will miss the opportunity, though.”
“You speak as though I could be an alpha female, like Aisling intends to be, but that isn't who I am,” I said, shaking my head. “I'm not an elegant lady like Aisling, nor a well-rounded pack wolf like Céillí. No male would ever put so much value in me. In another pack, or if Taibhreamh had never been born, I would be an omega.”
“Your father only keeps you so close to the omega position in order to try to encourage you to fight for more,” my mother insisted as she tugged a chunk of bread from the loaf. “He always thought you would react eventually, to become what you were always meant to be.”
“What am I meant to be?” I asked, not believing any of her claims.
She smiled, cupping my cheek as she admitted, “That, you have to discover for yourself. Cróga needed to know what was expected of him, to give him a goal and prepare him for what's to come. But you, my daughter, you need to discover your own strength before anyone tells you what you need to achieve.”
“What does that even mean?” I asked.
My mother chuckled, her hand cupping the back of my neck as she pressed her forehead to mine, her eyes growing glassy once more. “That would be telling. Just... Don't be too angry with your father. He's always done what he thought was best, and I would rather there wasn't resentment between you, considering what's to come.”
“Why would there be resentment between us?” I wanted to know, but my mother refocussed on eating and wouldn't say more.
I did the same, worrying over her claims while I picked at my food. At least she'd distracted me from the threat at our door, and maybe that had been her intention all along. Either way, it was still a relief when my father and siblings returned, frustrated by unharmed. I couldn’t smell blood, and none of them looked as though they'd been in a fight. Even before my father said as much, I knew they hadn't caught the white wolf.
“You didn't find him,” my mother assessed, coming to the same conclusion.
“We tracked him to the north east, to the coast, but there were tracks leading from one of the caves to the water, as if a boat had been dragged towards the sea,” my father answered, lowering himself wearily onto the bench next to my mother.
“A rowing boat? Only a madman would cross the Strait in a rowing boat,” my mother stated, frowning. But while she seemed sceptical, panic had settled over me again.
“That means he's still out there,” I mumbled, shuddering at that observation. “That means he might come back. We aren't safe. We need to...”
“We need to what?” my father asked, studying me, a deep crease between his brows. “We will increase patrols, we'll keep our guard up, but it’s been well over a decade since anyone last whispered of this stranger, never mind confirmed a sighting. This might not even be the same wolf. All we can do is be aware and keep going.”
For a moment he paused, his frown deepening still further, over dark eyes that were so much like mine and Cróga's whilst also being so much more serious. Then he made an ominous declaration.
“I've made my decision...”
He didn’t finish his admission before my mother's eyes closed, as if in pain, and she whispered, “Don't be rash...”
A low growl rumbled out of my father at her chiding reprimand. The low vibration held the command of an alpha, and Mother fell silent immediately, rather than risk undermining him. But her posture remained tense, her fingers curled into fists as she struggled with some deep emotion.
Turning towards me, my father announced, “Lord Féirín Faireinbhear wrote to me recently, on his son, Físí’s, behalf. He asked for your hand. It's a good match. While Féirín didn't inherit his father's watchtower, he's still done well for himself. His manor house is inland, and you'll be safe there, come white wolf or war. And Físí will inherit the Manor eventually, so you will always have a home. I've decided to accept his offer.”
My heart plummeted, and a lump choked my throat as I stared at him in dismay. Around me, my siblings dropped knives and forks, staring between me and our father in shock. No one had ever truly expected me to find a mate, certainly not before Cróga and Aisling, but I knew that Físí was far from the best match in Tírlaochra. At twenty-five, he should have mated already, but no female had come to him, and as the sole son of Féirín, he could hardly wander in search of a mate, even though he was his father's only hope for continuing his line. But that wasn't why my head began to shake. More than being given to the first male who came along, without first developing love or respect, I dreaded travelling so far from the sea.
“No, father. Please!” I begged, desperate. “Féirín Faireinbhear’s manor is inland. Miles and miles in land. I was raised to be on the sea, to sail! I know stars and navigation, and how to tie more knots than I can name. I'm not cut out to be the future ‘Lady Faireinbhear', in a pretty dress, looking after her country home! That isn't me! Aisling wants to mate! Why not send her?”
“Because she can do better!” my father answered, and even he flinched at the implication; I wasn't worth as much as my sister.
“Aisling wants a tower, to continue her duty to the Tírgarda,” my father explained, trying to recover from his faux pas. “You aren't a fighter, Fiáin, and being away from the coast will keep you safe when the inevitable war comes. This is a good match for you; you will still inherit the position of alpha female. This is the best offer you're ever likely to receive.”
Throwing myself to my feet, I continued to shake my head. “Why do I need to accept any offer? I'm sorry I'm not as much of a prize as Aisling and Cróga. I'm sorry I can't attract a wealth of interest. I'm sorry I keep disappointing you! But this is my home!”
“And it will be the first harbour to face attack when the shadow elves return. Our pack will stage battles from here, and you have no place being in Cuannagealán if you cannot fight,” my father answered, his tone matter-of-fact, then shook his head as he voice softened and he added, “I want more for you than living and dying as an unmated female under her brother's protection. This will give you a life. A mate and cubs will give you a purpose.”
But it wasn't a purpose I wanted; not if it meant being given to the first male to make an offer.
“I refuse!” I yelled, my hands balling into fists.
It was the worst thing I could've said, and when my father stood, towering over me, I could see the alpha wolf behind his eyes, fierce and uncompromising. Yet, for the first time in my life, I resisted the urge to bow my head, glaring back at him, even though my body trembled in fear. My father growled in warning, stepping closer, seeking to dominate me with his size, strength, and with the intensity of his presence. My body wanted to submit, to bow and defer to him, but I didn't want to accept his order. Not over this.
“I will write to Féirín, to tell him you accept and will be with his son no later than two moons time,” he insisted, ignoring my protests. “Next week, Lord Styrkr Stormrsverđ is visiting us from Veðrheimr - he is spending a few months travelling before taking on more responsibility as his father's heir - when he is ready to move on, he will accompany you to Móinéarglas, where you will become the mate of Lord Físí Faireinbhear. Am I clear?”
“If you make me do this, I'll never forgive you,” I retorted as tears stung my eyes and anger tasted bitter on my tongue.
“Fiáin,” my mother interjected, her own eyes glassy, even as she submitted to her alpha's will. “Don't say something you could regret.”
My father's gaze remained locked with mine as he answered, “I'd rather die knowing you resented me from safety, than live knowing you died because you remained here, in danger.”
“You aren't evicting anyone else,” I reminded him. “They might die too, but you're letting them stay. Aisling will go to another watchtower. Céillí will remain here. They will be in danger! This isn't fair!”
“Life isn't fair,” he reminded me with a shake of his head. “You know that better than most. But it is the right decision. You are not like your siblings. I have to do what I think is best. You can accept that, or you can challenge me.”
No one thought I could do the second, and they were correct. Even if I'd been strong enough, I couldn't seek to overthrow my father when it would have put me in opposition with the rest of my family. Plus, he was a good wolf, a good leader, and I couldn't bear the thought of turning on him. Yet I also couldn't bear the thought of mating with a wolf whom I'd only seen once or twice in my childhood. I didn't want to live so far from my family, or so far from a harbour and the only freedom I'd ever found.
“I hate you,” I stated, and in that moment, I meant it, despite all my reasons for not challenging him. “Now you've lost a daughter as well as a son, and if I go, I go only because you are no longer my father.”
Reaching for me, my alpha cupped my cheek, even though I growled at him, my lips peeling back from my teeth. His thumb stroked beneath my eye as he studied my angry face.
“If that’s what it takes...” he breathed.
“What it takes for what?” I demanded, still seething. “What could possibly be worth so much?”
“To have you step up,” he answered with a slight lift of his shoulders.
Pushing his hand away, I stepped back, tears rolling down my cheeks and off my chin, to drip onto the stone floor. There was so much I wanted to say, so many desperate pleas, but I knew he wouldn't listen. His rank gave him every right to be stubborn, immovable, and arguing would have as much affect as howling at a stone wall.
I shook my head again, despair settling deep within my soul. Then I spun on my heel, too ashamed to meet the stares of my still-silent brothers and sisters, and I fled, racing up the spiralling staircase to my fourth-floor bedroom. A room I would soon be forced to leave...
Throwing myself onto my bed, I buried my face in the pillow, and then I broke my heart, sobbing into the linen. And when I finally slept, I dreamt of a cage, where I would bear cub after cub, while I grew colder, emptier, and lost the last spark of my fragile strength.
YOU ARE READING
Wild Watchtower: Shield & Claw Book One
WerewolfWhoever Fiáin was born to be died along with her twin brother. She died when a strange white wolf came into their territory and murdered her brother in front of her. All her life, Fiáin had lived with the guilt of having hidden rather than trying to...
