Secrets in the Wolf King's Castle

Love and Logistics

Lyria Moonglow marched imperiously toward her quarters, her tall heels clicking on the floor. She barely noticed the wolves around her as they scurried to open doors for her, their faces concerned by the look of annoyance on her own face. She was widely known as an even tempered, kind Luna Queen, so such displays of anger were rare for her.

She managed a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes, for the Omegas who hurried to clear a path. They moved the buckets and rags that were scattered across the corridor where they were furiously scrubbing the stones until they shined.

“Thank you,” she murmured as she stalked past. She managed another polite smile as she came to a brief stop before the Royal suites, the section of the castle which contained the chambers for the Royal family.

“The Queen,” announced the Guards, bowing to her. She tried to contain her frustration at the formalities, which she did not like at the best of times. “Her Majesty,” a shout came from the inside the suites. She sighed. It seemed to take a lifetime for the doors to squeak slowly open, as the announcer continued, “Luna Queen Lyria Moonglow, arriving.”

The announcer, who stood inside the doors in another long corridor, bowed. Guards stood posted at intervals along the hall, and they also bowed. Lyria forced a smile and a wave as she hurried along.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she came to a stop outside the King’s chambers and rushed inside without pausing to allow the guards standing there to open the door for her. She didn’t even notice their confusion at the breach of decorum.

“My love!” Wallace exclaimed, standing. He knew it was Lyria before he had even turned around, since any other wolf would have been accosted before being allowed into his chambers without the proper ceremony and his permission. Even their children usually stood on ceremony, but they were all in the Keeping of the Shrine for lessons from the Mystics, except their youngest child, who was in the nursery.

“Darling,” she said with a smile that finally seemed genuine. She rushed toward him and he extended his arms, which she sunk into immediately. “Let’s run away,” she said as she nuzzled her cheek to his chest.

“Surely it cannot be all that bad?”

“I miss Caldien,” she sighed.

It had been ten years, but they had never found such a competent nor loyal wolf to oversee the operations of the castle and its many affairs.

“As do I,” Wallace replied. “I take it the preparations are not going well?”

“They are not.” Lyria said dramatically. “Maybe we should cancel. We could pretend to be sick.”

“With what? The plague? Wolves rarely get sick.”

“It could be the plague…”

“Lyria…”

“Fine. Well, we could actually get sick,” she countered with a slight pout.

“Do you have any plague lying around?”

“We could get them sick?”

“A diplomatic nightmare,” her husband said gently. “I think we just have to host them as expected, my love. But you’ve been working so hard, and I’m sure it will be lovely.”

“The diplomatic nightmare is the fact that none of the Omegas have been properly trained in human customs,” Lyria replied. “Iagan was supposed to begin their training months ago.”

“He did begin it months ago, I made sure of it,” Wallace said, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Well than Iagan is not well enough versed in human customs himself!”

“That is to be expected, my love, since almost no wolves in the Wolf Kingdom besides our own diplomats have taken much interest in human culture.”

“I have!” Lyria protested.

“And even fewer wolves have your level of brilliance, my love,” he kissed her forehead. “We have not had a diplomatic visit from the Northern Kingdom’s actual monarchy in nearly the entirety of our living memory. Of course the intricacies of their culture have gone forgotten.”

“I know,” Lyria pouted. “But still, I’m nervous,” she added. She continued to pout, looking up at her husband.

Wallace laughed. “You’re quite adorable,” he told her, kissing the tip of her nose. Without warning, he swung his arms around her waist, pulling her into a kiss that swept her onto her tiptoes. She giggled against his lips and felt the tension she was carrying melt away with the warmth of his hands on her skin.

“What is it that is vexing you specifically?” he asked after a few minutes, pulling away but not taking his hands off her waist as he stood into her eyes.

“Well,” Lyria sighed. “For a start, they can’t quite understand the proper bow.” She pulled away from her husband’s grasp gently and demonstrated, extending one leg further out, keeping a toe pointed and one hand extended for Wallace to grasp, as was custom in the Northern Kingdom. As she straightened, she continued, “I know it is not quite how we bow here, and they can’t make the change. I suppose they’ve been trained for many years to bow in a particular way. Not only that,” she added, “but they also can’t grasp the rule for who to bow to. Of course, humans have no wolf senses. And we can’t sense these things within them. Many of the Omegas don’t understand that they simply need to memorize who they’re expected to bow to, rather than it being instinct.”

“It must be strange to imagine a world without your wolf,” Wallace sighed.

“And painful,” Lyria added with a slight shudder. Even after many years, she still tried not to think of the emptiness she had felt within her when her wolf had been stripped from her during her time as a captive of the neighboring kingdom of Haven. “But not for humans, I’ve been told. For them, it is quite natural. I suppose it would be as odd for them to have a wolf as it is for us to not have one.”

“Any other complaints?” Wallace asked.

“So many,” Lyria sighed. “The food. I have nearly given up explaining to the cooks that humans simply cannot eat many of the things we love. And not only that, that many things which are toxic to us are delicious to them!”

“Like those roots they love so much,” Wallace said with a small smile. “What are they called again?”

“Coight tubers,” Lyria smiled. “We have had cartfuls brought in for the King’s visit, but the kitchen is at a loss as to how to cook them.”

“Aren’t the fumes quite noxious to us?”

“Only if they are not soaked first!”

Wallace just smiled. “And you don’t think they could just go without it for a few weeks?”

“I’m sure they could,” she replied. “Maybe that would be better. But I’m just trying to make sure everything is perfect. Like you said, it has been so long since we’ve had a visit from

another King, other than Gertal, a human king, and I’m worried.”

“You shouldn’t be. The Northern Kingdom is our oldest ally. Their ancestors embraced ours long before any others. Their friendship paved the way for our acceptance by the other kingdoms of the human realms.”

“Well, those have not always been without strife. Even our relationship with the Northern Kingdom is not always moonlight and dewdrops. Even just three years ago, they withdrew their ambassadors after that ugly incident where Red Stone Pack’s Beta insulted the ambassador’s daughter at the Gathering Dark dinner.”

Wallace made a noise of discontent at the name of the Red Stone Pack, a perpetual thorn in his side as King.

“That is why it is so important,” Lyria said, “I just want things to go well.”

“Too bad we can’t uninvite Orrine Redblood,” the King growled. The enmity between the Red Stone Alpha and the King ran deep, and though it had been many years, neither had forgotten what had happened between the former Alpha of Red Stone and the King when Lyria had been kidnapped. Porter Redblood had been Orinne’s cousin, and Orinne had been the closest Redblood to escape suspicion of treason in the massive conspiracy uncovered at that time. She was the first female Alpha in Red Stone history, and the concept was rare enough in the Wolf Kingdom that she still turned heads when she left the pack territory to come to Cyrrillest. But there was no questioning the Goddess’s choice when the pack bowed to her. She was the Alpha.

“You’re far too hard on her,” Lyria said softly. “She was barely more than a pup when I was taken.”

“Perhaps,” agreed the King, but Lyria knew better than to expect him to change. That was how these conversations went each time, with him acknowledging that he judged all Redbloods the same. But by that token, the Redbloods were far too suspicious of any Wolfsblood. Lyria often wondered if there was anything that could be done to bridge the gap between the Crown and the Red Stone Pack.

“In any event, I believe she will behave herself. She has never created discord at any of the other Crown events she’s attended.”

“We’ve never had so large an audience,” the King reminded her gently.

“True. It is odd, isn’t it? You invite King Reginald to dozens of events a year and he never attends, nor have we ever expected him to. And now suddenly he wishes to attend Wyatt’s birthday?”

“They say he is growing old, for a human, and trying to set his many affairs in order for his death,” Wallace said. “I suppose one such affair must be to forge a connection between us and his daughter, for she will inherit the throne. He has been King all my life, but I know that the last time a human King visited our city, it was for a similar purpose.”

“Have you met this King Reginald?”

“Once,” he said. “I traveled to the Northern Kingdom. Not to their capital city, but just inside their border. He’s a fine man, if that meeting is any indication.”

“Is it true that he has a deformity?”

Wallace scoffed. “Indeed, though wolves make much of it. He is missing two fingers on his left hand, and has been since birth. Hardly noticeable. But you know how wolves can gossip about such marks. Seen as a curse, disfavor from the Goddess. Superstition. And even if it were a sign of disfavor from the Goddess in wolves, it is meaningless to judge humans by such standards.”

“I only ask because the Omegas were gossiping.”

“I hope you put a stop to it,” Wallace said, his voice a low growl.

“Of course!” Lyria was not one to judge by appearances, nor would she tolerate such in her staff.

Wallace smiled tiredly at her. “Of course you did,” he said, his tone changing from a growl to a silken, smooth tenor. “I should not have even questioned it. My love,” he wrapped her up in his arms again.

Lyria giggled as he lifted her off her feet, her elbows tucked tightly against her sides where his arms pinned them, unable to move in his embrace.

“I have to finish overseeing the decoration!” she protested as he swung her around, grinning. Her hair whipped over one shoulder and her dress swished in the wind. With one fluid motion, he pulled her legs up, clutching her lower back with one arm and supporting her knees with the other. Her hands moved to entwine his neck instinctually.

“There is time for that later,” he whispered. His eyes were filled with love, and lust, as he surveyed her. He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers.

“Not so much time, and so much to do,” she protested. But her heart was not in the protest as she returned his affection.

“Enough time,” he said. She felt his grip on her tighten with need. “If you can spare it for me?” he added, drawing his face from hers to peer into her eyes.

Lyria grinned. Rather than answer, she drew herself toward him and began lavishing his neck with kisses. She wound one hand through his hair, pulling it just enough to tip his head back.

“I will spare you any number of moments,” she whispered.

He carried her toward his bedchamber, one hand roving her body as she continued to kiss his neck and face.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he murmured happily, “or you shall never leave this bed again.”