Secrets in the Wolf King's Castle

Arrivals

Wyatt counted down the days until his Uncle Gertal would arrive. Ever since Annicke had suggested that he speak to the elder, who was once a lowly wolf begrudgingly accepted in the palace of Haven, now a King of that same land, Wyatt had felt sure that Gertal would have the answers he so desperately sought.

“Wyatt?” came Lyria’s soft voice from the doorway. Wyatt turned away from the window, out which he had been staring for some time, watching the sun sink slowly into the horizon. “Aren’t you coming to dinner?” she asked, fixing him with a piercing stare.

“Oh,” he said, his eyes flicking back toward the sun. It had gotten late. “Of course, I… hadn’t realized.”

“You didn’t come to lunch, Wyatt,” she moved into the drawing room of his private quarters. He hadn’t invited her, but nor had he asked her to leave, and she was worried about him. “Or breakfast.” He started to speak but she held up her hand, looking at him with disappointment. “I already asked in the kitchens so I know you didn’t eat separately. Please don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not going to, I wasn’t going to,” he protested weakly. “I just lost track of time,” he added, his voice soft.

“You might feel better if you speak to someone,” Lyria suggested, her voice matching his own quietness.

“Do you know when Gertal will arrive? He was supposed to be here this afternoon,” Wyatt said, ignoring Lyria.

“He should be here soon,” Lyria said, casting her own glance out the window. In the foreground, the castle gates loomed. Lyria knew full well that they had not opened all day. Beyond it, the city stretched out into the horizon, bustling with wolves who appeared no larger than swaying blades of grass. “Is that what you’ve been watching for?”

“Yes. Why is he delayed?”

Lyria sighed. “He made the mistake of stopping in Alpha Renard’s territory for lunch,” she smiled. “As I understand it, he was waylaid for quite some time with a rich, five course meal and even a tour of the area around the packhouse. You know how he can be.”

This shook Wyatt from his malaise slightly. He laughed his booming laugh and shook his head. Lyria brightened too, at the sight of her son’s amusement.

“Then I suppose we are lucky he escaped at all,” Wyatt snickered lightly. His mood lifted, and with it, the atmosphere of the room seemed to shift. “I just wanted to speak with him,” Wyatt offered. “I thought perhaps he would have some advice for me.”

“About how you’ve been feeling lately?”

“Yes.”

“That’s wise. Gertal is certainly someone who understands a certain… hesitancy to take the throne.”

“That’s what Annicke said.”

“Your sister suggested this?”

“Yes,” Wyatt said. “Smart pup.”

“She is,” Lyria said, proudly. “So, are you coming to dinn–” she cut herself off with the faint grinding sound of the gates opening, just barely audible through the open window.

“Uncle Gertal is here!” Wyatt exclaimed, jumping to his feet. Without a word or a backward glance, he was barreling out of the room. Lyria stood, much slower, shaking out her dress.

Gertal is here, she told her mate.

Indeed, the gate guards informed me already. Shall we greet him at the front? I will collect the children.

No need to collect Wyatt, Lyria told him. He moved faster than a hare being hunted when he heard the gates opening.

Indeed, Lyria glanced out the window and was hardly surprised at all to see the small figure of her son hurrying across the lawn. King Gertal and his contingent had not yet disembarked, their carriages still rolling imperiously across the path to the stables.

Though Lyria and Wallace had told Gertal many times that they would not be held to the laws of Cyrrillest and that they could choose to run into the city, shifted, Gertal always declined. He considered it impolite. And of course, it was. It would normally be a sign of disrespect or even outright aggression. But Lyria trusted Gertal with her life.

After all, he had saved it several times.

So she was not surprised to see the small battalion of carriages. Nor was she surprised when Gertal finally emerged, blinking in the low, late sun, clearly longing to stretch his legs.

Though wolves utilized carriages, it certainly wasn’t a preferred means of travel. She herself had frequently bemoaned the need for such things on her own travels to Haven, as well as to other places around the Wolf Kingdom.

Wyatt was unable to contain himself.

“Uncle Gertal,” he called. His feet moved so quickly he was not sure he could stop himself had he wanted to. Gertal was flanked by two guards who flexed, seemingly on impulse, as Wyatt practically flung himself into Gertal’s arms. Gertal barely had time to raise a hand, telling his guards to stand down, before he was embracing the young prince. “It’s lovely to see you,”Wyatt said. “I have much I wish to discuss.”

“Is all well?” Gertal asked, leaning away from the hug slightly to look into Wyatt’s eyes. “Should I be worried?”

“It is nothing of… major import. I just desire your counsel.”

“Mine?” Gertal laughed, as he took Wyatt by the arm and led him toward the castle doors. The contingent of guards and nobles followed behind.

“Yes,” Wyatt replied, nodding. “I have much– wait,” he suddenly seemed to realize something. “Where is Lyenna? The pups?”

“Lyenna’s carriage is just a bit behind us,” Gertal said. “The bumps in the road were upsetting her stomach, so she decided to walk along for a time. I’m sure she will arrive soon. She says she is quite excited to see you,” he added, gesturing to his head in a universal way to indicate he was contacting her just then.

“I’m excited to see her as well!” Wyatt said, and Gertal grinned with his enthusiasm.

Just then the castle doors opened, and King Wallace and Queen Lyria emerged.

“My friend,” Wallace said. He grinned broadly. “Late, as always.”

Gertal walked forward, grasping Wallace’s hand and tapping the inside of his forearm in a formal gesture of greeting.

“Does not a King always arrive on time?”

“Not when he leaves a King waiting,” Lyria smiled. “It is certainly nothing to which my husband is accustomed.”

“Next time I shall endeavor to be on time.”

“No you won’t,” Wallace replied. “Don’t lie under the sight of the Goddess!”

Gertal just laughed. Glancing upward, he said, “The moon has not risen,” he shrugged. “My lies cannot offend as that which she does not see.”

He turned to Lyria, and she embraced him warmly. “It’s good to see you.”

“An odd statement to make… directly after asserting that daytime lies are acceptable to the Goddess.”

Wyatt smiled in the background of the warm scene of reunion, saying nothing. He felt that perhaps, just perhaps, all would be well with him once more.