Pack of Wolves - Maggie Claire (most popular novels of all time .TXT) 📗

hooded man’s voice is full of authority as he begins his interrogation. “Where will the Ddraigs try to meet your people? How long do we have before they arrive?”

“Patience, patience,” Wolf whispers, relishing the way the hooded man grinds his heels into the ground impatiently. “My brother told me about it. He’s already been chosen by one of the Ddraigs. He knows all about their movements.” Wolf can’t hide his snicker of delight as the man’s hands clench at the news.

“And you want to destroy such a valuable asset?” The man unsheathes his sword, raising the blade so quickly that the sound of its unleashing still rings in the air by the time the tip tickles Wolf’s chin. “This kind of spy is exactly what we need to overpower those monstrosities! Why would I help you kill him?”

“If you ever want information from me again, you will help me shred my brother’s mind. We will poison his emotions and drive him insane. In return, I will give you everything I learn about the Ddraigs, and I will even provide you with a time and place where we can attack.”

“Why are you so willing to assist us?” The hooded man wonders, turning his head from side to side as he eyes Wolf suspiciously.

“Our little arrangement has kept my pack well fed and heavily armed,” Wolf hedges, unwilling to reveal all of his motives at once. Sometimes the key to a good negotiation is not holding the most information—it’s knowing how much to share at the right time. “I am, after all, a man of the people.”

“True enough,” the man replies with caution, lowering his sword only because its weight is making his arm muscles twitch with fatigue. “But what you are proposing now goes far beyond anything else you’ve done in the past.”

“Every dealing I’ve done with you is enough to get me labelled a traitor,” Wolf admits nonchalantly, shoving his hands into his holey pockets. “If Cassé had high ranking leaders, they would probably try to convict me of treason. Siding with the likes of you could easily get me killed.” Wolf smiles widely enough to show his sharpened teeth as he adds, “However, since I am the most powerful pack leader in Cassé, I shouldn’t have a reason to worry, should I? There will come a day when I can sway the laws of this land to my will. When that day comes, I will be looked upon as a hero, and my enemies will be the traitors.”

“So why do it?” The hooded man presses, still unsure of Wolf’s motives. “Why sell out your brother and undermine your country when you are about to lead it? We do not trust traitors on either side of the mountains. Make me understand why you seek to destroy Cassé.”

“It’s not my country that I despise, but a common enemy,” Wolf answers simply, as if the response is obvious. “The Ddraigs cast me out of their lands, claiming I was not good enough to be one of their warriors. For that, I will always hate them. So, I will help you annihilate those beasts if you help me kill a monster of my own. Do we have a deal?”

The hooded man snakes his free hand out of his pocket. “We have an agreement. Now, tell me what you have done to your brother. Then I’ll find a way to break him.”

Chapter 5

“Emeric!” Alaric snarls as he slams his fists against the heavy oaken table in his war room. He’s spent every waking hour in this space since he learned of Antero’s death. His salt and pepper hair is matted and oily after neglecting his shower, and his fine velvet overcoat is filmy to the touch. He can’t even remember the last time he changed clothes. Yet nothing, not even the ever-ripening scent of his own body, will deter the king from his task. “What is taking you so long? Where are my magicians? Where are my advisers? Where are my council leaders? And where is my beautiful concubine carrying a tray of meat and ale for my guests? Emeric!” The king’s voice clatters through the room, rattling the etched glass in the ornate windows that overlook the gardens. Pursing his lips in annoyance, Alaric opens his mouth once more, intending to threaten Emeric’s life if he does not enter the war room in the next five seconds.

“Apologies, my lord,” Emeric wheezes as he skids to a stop in the doorway. “Some of the council leaders were a little too drunk in court; they required some extra attention and cajoling.”

“I don’t care for excuses!” the king grumbles, his keen eyes staring at the intricate floor-to-ceiling map that adorns one wall in the room. “My men shouldn’t be concerned with anything but my wishes anyway. Destruction of Cassè is close at hand!” Alaric could feel his confidence pulsing through his veins. “I know the answer is here, Emeric. We will finally rid that half of the land of its filth. Then, once the dust settles, we will overtake both sides of the Devil’s Spine!”

“Sire, your council has spent all these last few weeks with you sifting through vague details about how to attack Cassè. And ultimately, we’ve made no concrete plans.” Emeric bites his tongue, withering under the icy glare of his king. “We just need rest, sire. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

“You think that their work has gone unrewarded, is that it?” Alaric slams his hands hard against the map, bashing into the raised etching that denotes Cassè’s border. He does not stop when blood splatters the carefully detailed map-skin, bursting forth from his gouged knuckles. “I owe my men nothing! It is they that owe me! Loyalty, fealty, and respect—those are the proper ways to address a king! So if I call them, I expect them to come immediately. Now bring them here!”

“Yes, my lord.” Emeric bows his head as he retreats, thankful his thoughtless words only resulted in a severe scolding.