Wild Watchtower: Shield & Claw Book One

Chapter Eleven: Lord Styrkr

Watching my brother with Aoibhinn poured salt in an open wound. As relieved as I was that he might get to choose a mate he could love, rather than needing to take whoever was suitable, it still stung to watch him and the female as they leaned towards one another, whispering and laughing, their bodies always touching. The scent of their bond hung in the air, as acrid to me as it would be delicious to them, growing more potent with each passing day, and I regretted that I would likely never experience what they did, because I was to be given away.

“What do you think Lord Styrkr will be like,” Céillí asked as we sat together in the hall, watching the younger cubs run amok, chasing Taibh back and forward.

“I don't know,” Aisling answered, considering that question. “Maybe I won't have to go searching for a mate after all. Maybe one will land in my lap.”

“He's coming to travel, not settle down with the first unmated female to cross his path,” I interjected, my ire rising not because of Aisling's suggestion, but because Lord Styrkr's arrival would also herald that I would soon be out of time. “And he’s promised to deliver me to my prison, so I doubt he's going to be open to staying here for any amount of time.”

Aisling’s brows pulled together, and she shook her head at me. “You have to stop calling the Faireinbhear pack ‘your prison’. Físí is to be your mate, not your gaoler. Many females would be thrilled to have a pack heir seek their hand. You're acting ungratefully. And as for Lord Styrkr, we wouldn't stay here anyway. I'd travel with him or we'd return to Veðrheimr. He will be an alpha one day, and he can't wander forever.”

“I'm acting ungratefully because I am ungrateful. I feel no gratitude for this, and no matter what other mindless females would want, this is not what I want. That matters to me, even if it matters to no one else. You might want a pack and some alpha male to put cubs in your belly, but that's just not me. I don't want some stranger forcing his will on mine.

“As far as Lord Styrkr Stormrsverđ is concerned, maybe he doesn't want to inherit. Maybe he'll leave his pack for his younger brothers to fight over... And either way, how would you cope with a life so far north? Where winter is longer and colder even than here? You complain that the snow and mud stain your skirts now, imagine what it would be like in Veðrheimr...”

“Lord Styrkr would still have to return home eventually. He’s not only the heir of the Stormrsverđ pack,” Céillí interrupted, her gaze flicking between Aisling and me as though she thought we might fight, for the first time in our lives.

“What do you mean?” Aisling asked, turning towards our sister once more. “What else could he be heir of?”

“I don't know,” Céillí responded with a shrug. “That's just what Father told Mother. I overheard them talking about it while you were off dancing at the First Harvest celebrations.”

“His father is Lord Stórr Stormrsverđ. A respected noble by all accounts, but no more so than father,” Aisling stated, as if disbelieving our younger sister. “Who is Lord Stormrsverđ mated to?”

Céillí shrugged, having never displayed any interest in pack history or much reading of anything other than occasional heroic sagas.

“Lady Ván Stormrsverđ,” I answered on her behalf. “Second child of Lord Röskr Tröllbani, but she isn't Lord Styrkr's mother.”

“She isn't?” Aisling asked, looking intrigued.

“Not according to the books on nobility in the library,” I expanded, not overly interested. “If memory serves, his mother is listed as Lady Gnótt Stormrsverđ, her lineage is unlisted and her name has been struck through as though she'd died. That would explain why there's over a decade between Lord Styrkr and his oldest living sibling. I guess his father had to find a new mate. There's a whole list of younger siblings born of Lady Ván.”