Chapter 14: Far Side of the Room

We came into Highmark harbour on the morning tide, under the Willowmere flag.

Photographers lined the quay three deep.

I walked down the gangway in my father's sash, with Edith on one side and the nephew on the other.

Biscuit rode in a carrier on Edith's hip and glared at the cameras.

A Council steward in grey waited at the foot of the plank with four guards.

"Alpha of Willowmere," he said. "You are lodged in the guest tower until the festival. You will not leave it."

"I'll leave it to eat," I said.

"With an escort."

"Then bring a large one."

Behind the steward, the black royal car pulled in and stopped across the quay.

Alaric got out of it before the driver could reach his door.

He wore no crown and no coat.

He walked straight through the guards, and every camera on the quay came up.

"Alpha Faraday," he said, loud enough for the back rows.

Then he bowed.

It was a full bow, from the waist, and he held it.

The king of the wolves bowed to the Alpha of a fishing island on a public pier.

Nobody on the quay made a sound except the shutters.

"The guest tower is cold," he said when he straightened. "My rooms have a fire."

The steward spluttered.

"Majesty, the Council's order says otherwise."

"The Council's physician put it in writing. My wolf is sick, and her presence is the only medicine it takes."

He looked at me.

"Come as a guest of my wolf," he said. "Not of me."

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