“How?”
Mags would have immediately told him she wasn’t playing strip Kingcross and possibly threatened his life. Because the Eldritch princess seemed less aggressive, at least on the surface, he said, “The winner gets a boon.”
“Anything?” Thalia asked.
“Within reason. Nothing dangerous or…illicit.”
“Agreed. But I’ll have you know, you will likely be the one paying the penalty.”
“I’m willing,” Raff said.
Through losing, he might learn a great deal about her ambitions and her secret desires. They made small talk as the match progressed. As he’d expected, she quickly outclassed him, taking his pieces with all the ferocious glee of a gaming despot. In the end, he yielded.
Thalia eyed him while claiming his king and crowning her own. “Kingcross. I’ve won. Rather handily, in fact. I hoped you might offer more of a challenge.”
“Not at this, alas, but I did enjoy your company. What’s my forfeit?”
“Answer me a question,” Thalia said.
“That’s all you want of me?” An unlikely development, but the fact that she wanted to know more about him, enough to wager for it, that was…intriguing. Never in Pine Ridge’s history had a leader brought home an outside mate, and the pack was divided, even now, as to whether this was an advisable course. They hadn’t liked his overtures to the Golgoth Prince any better, for the same reasons.
“My curiosity is intense. I asked in Ash Valley, but no one would share the story. How did you get that scar on your cheek?”
4.
Thalia wondered if Raff would answer honestly.
This wasn’t a query so much as a test. In fact, she had heard a version of the story from one of the wolves in Ash Valley, but how Raff responded should prove enlightening. He sipped at his mug of wine, probably stalling for time, then he set it on the table nearby.
“It’s not a particularly interesting tale, but I’ll share it if you wish.”
“By all means.”
“A few years past, there was a woman from one of our settlements. She came to Pine Ridge to forget the bad memories. Her mate had been taken by the Golgoth and she was wild with grief.”
“Wolves mate for life?” Thalia asked.
Raff glanced at her, but she couldn’t gauge his expression. His golden-brown eyes were dark like shadowed amber. “When it’s a true pairing.”
“What does that mean?”
He sighed a little, as if her ignorance troubled him. “Do you know anything about Animari mate bonds?”
“Not really. It isn’t something I’ve had cause to study before.”
“Animari mate bonds form in various ways. Sometimes there’s an instant spark, a moment of recognition—aha, this is the person I’m meant to be with! In other cases, love and affection grows out of friendship and respect, or from repeated sexual pairings. However, the bond begins, that connection deepens over time, as trust and intimacy build. Some mates get to the point that they can sense what their other half is thinking or feeling.”
“That result is a true pairing?” It sounded enviable, but also dangerous. Thalia could imagine treachery and heartbreak from someone knowing her that well…and then informing her enemies.
Nodding, Raff went on, “If one partner passes away, the one left behind suffers. I was trying to comfort her.”
“That sounds harmless enough, but you must have crossed the line. Otherwise, there would be no scar and no story.”
“People don’t usually come back from the Golgoth dungeons,” Raff said softly. “Her mate did. And misunderstood the reasons I had my hands on the woman. She used a specially treated black iron blade on me, stolen from the Golgoth armory.”
“That’s why it scarred?” From what she knew, normally the Animari healed so quickly that even deep, serious wounds didn’t leave a mark when they sealed.
“It is. Are you satisfied with this answer?”
“I am. It’s a sad story, though.”
“I don’t think so. It was such an unlikely happy ending.”
“Not for you,” Thalia said.
Raff raised a brow, then drained the mug he had set aside. To Thalia, it looked like a bracing gesture. “You make it sound like I’m perishing of want. It wasn’t like that, I assure you. I’m glad that her mate came home.”
Thalia sipped her Moscato, finding the flavor sweet and delicate. “I suppose it’s true that you’ve been chasing that ferocious tiger lady with some dedication for a while now, so the…misunderstanding that scarred your cheek can’t have damaged your heart too badly.”
“My heart is pristine and inviolate,” Raff said.
“Should you be divulging that information? It sounds as if you’re boasting that you’re an immovable object.”
“Does that make you an irresistible force?”
She smiled faintly. “I hope so.”
“It’s late now, Lady Silver. I suspect I should retire before I test the bounds of your good nature.”
“I won’t carve up your other cheek, even if you do. Good night, Lord Wolf.”
Raff left then, abandoning the wine he’d brought. Thalia considered drinking the rest herself, but unlike the Animari, she had a normal metabolism for alcohol, and she’d likely regret that decision in the morning. Pensive, she went to bed and crawled under five layers of covers meant to keep the Daruvar chill at bay.
It has been such a strange day.
Normally, she tossed and turned, but that was her last thought before she woke to pale sunlight streaming through the narrow windows, kindling a nimbus of color from the stained glass; it spread across the floor in swirls of green and gold. The stones were like ice; Thalia danced on tiptoes until she found her slippers discarded in the corner. Lil must have come and gone because there was tea and toast on the table in her sitting room. She finished both greedily, including the whole pot of lemon jelly. This sort of thing permitted her to keep her dignity in public, so her manner could remain polite and refined.
Quickly she bathed and dressed, hurrying Madu, the dresser who wanted to spend hours on her hair. Thalia settled for a neat twist, more in keeping with the military style she’d
