Chapter Twenty-six: Surprise

“What does that mean?” I asked. “What story?”

What the hell had the Northerners been saying about me? I was curious as hell. I'd thought that they were above gossip.

Elara simply laughed nervously and righted a supply that was askew on a shelf.

“It is nothing too damning, I assure you,” she said with a slight wave of her hand. “Just that no one had seen you out and about ever since the Alpha brought you to the North. So, it…reinforced the rumors.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What rumors?”

She had the grace to look uncomfortable. “Well, that you…the Southern princess from Windsmoor…is a, well, my apologies, but there is no softer way to say this…” she exhaled, “a noble snob. Like most Southern nobles are.”

I blinked. Huh. Coming out had been a really good idea, after all. People thought I was being a snobby bitch by staying indoors, when in reality I had spent the last seven days trying to adapt in a new environment, in a castle that was as huge as a small country.

Now I knew what Meghan Markle and the royal family must always feel like back in the real world, having people judge you without really knowing you. Wow. The painful travails of royalty.

Elara wrung her hands nervously as she watched me. “My Lady-“

“Sigrun,” I corrected. Then added with a smile, “I told you to call me Sigrun.”

She smiled tentatively. “Well, Sigrun. I did not mean to offend you. For what it is worth, I never believed in those rumors anyway.”

I waved off her worried apology. “It’s fine. Trust me,” I added when she still looked unconvinced.

She looked relieved.

“Show me more art supplies,” I said. Then I added with a cheeky grin, “And maybe afterwards you can tell me more Northern rumors about the Southern princess.”

Elara giggled and pulled me by the arm towards a new aisle. "Well, My La- Sigrun," she amended when I raised a brow at her. "When you put it that way..."

The next half hour passed surprisingly quickly. The longer I spent inside Thompson's, the more I liked it.

Every shelf seemed to contain something even more interesting than the last. Books with cracked leather spines. Maps rolled into neat cylinders. Jars of pigment stacked in careful rows. Bundles of charcoal. It was all very vintage.

The place felt less like a business and more like the physical manifestation of a very specific obsession.

“Elara?”

“Yes?”

“How many books are actually in here?”

She looked around and considered. “My father thinks somewhere around five thousand.”

I nearly dropped the brushes I was sampling. “Five thousand?”

She laughed. “Maybe six. He likes books.” The fondness in her voice was impossible to miss.

“You're both seem close,” I observed with a little pang of wistfulness as I remembered my own dad.

Her smile grew even softer. “Very. It has mostly been the two of us for a long time...”

I glanced at her. “Your mother?”

“Oh. She died when I was little."

“Oh. I'm sorry," I said with the level of empathy only a fellow motherless person could offer.

I had a feeling there was a story here but it seemed rude to push it. So I changed the subject.

The South fascinated Elara. She wanted to know what the cities looked like. What people wore. What Windsmoor Castle looked like.

Considering that I was a stranger myself, I thought I did a pretty good job making stuff up. I felt terrible lying to her, but the other option, telling her that I wasn't really from these parts seemed like a pretty unbelievable thing to say. I mean, I was still kind of hoping this was all some really weird dream.

Eventually one of my guards popped his head through the door. The lowering sun visible through the windows said enough. The afternoon had passed far faster than I expected.

I sighed. “I should go.”

Elara nodded and walked me outside, carrying my packages supplies. One of the guards took it from her. The other offered his hand, ready to help me mount.

Before I could overthink it, I turned to her and said, “You should visit Pillak Towers sometime.”

Elara blinked. “I mean, if you want to,” I rushed to add, feeling silly for inviting someone over when we’d literally just met. Talk about desperate.

For a moment she simply stared. Then a smile spread across her face. “I would like that very much, My Lady.”

“Sigrun.”

“Sigrun. It will take me a while to get used to that," she corrected with a small laugh.

Something warm settled in my chest.

Because I thought I had just made my first real friend in the North.

*

The ride back to Pillak Towers felt different.

The city no longer seemed quite so unfamiliar.

Maybe because I now knew at least one person living in it.

Freya carried me steadily through the streets as evening settled over the mountains.

The name had come to me sometime during the ride.

Freya.

Strong and reliable.

It fit. The mare flicked an ear when I said it aloud, and I took that as approval.

Ahead, Pillak Towers loomed.

Dark stone. Silver banners. Familiar. Home.

The thought caught me off guard.

Somewhere along the way, without realizing it, I had started thinking of the fortress as my home.

My gaze drifted toward the tower where my chambers were located. Immediately, my mood worsened. Which was completely ridiculous.

He had only been gone for a week.

Yet somehow the entire castle felt different without him there. Empty, even with all the servants and workers. Even with Rita and Conny around. It still felt empty.

I frowned.

Look, the problem wasn't that I missed him, it was that somehow, in just the space of a few days, I had become accustomed to him.

There was a difference. A very important difference.

Unfortunately my brain disagreed.

Because the moment I thought about him, it decided to remind me what he looked like shirtless. Broad-shouldered. That tattoo. That voice. Those hands. Entirely too attractive for my sanity. I firmly believed that there was some magic in this realm that was altering my brain’s chemistry.

Freya carried me through the gates at an easy pace while the guards exchanged greetings with my escort.

The courtyard seemed quieter than usual.

One of the stable hands spotted me and immediately looked away.

Okay. That was odd.

Maybe I still had accidentally smeared some paint on my face while sampling at Thompson’s.

Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?

I slid from Freya’s back and handed over her reins.

“Take good care of her.”

The stable hand nodded. “Of course, My Lady.”

His voice sounded nervous.

I opened my mouth to ask what the when I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I turned.

Varul stood at the top of the stairs leading into Pillak Towers, his hands folded casually and his back, looking every bit like the tall and foreboding Alpha that he was.

My heart skipped, and a heady rush of excitement flooded my brain. I caught myself in time before a smile broke loose from my lips. I wasn’t excited to see him. Not at all.

His eyes locked onto mine. And what the hell, he looked furious. His fury was an aura that seemed to envelop the entire courtyard. Even from a distance, the tension around him was palpable. Servants avoided looking directly at him. Guards stood a little straighter. I also noticed Darren and three other men watching from somewhere beside the steps.

I suddenly became very aware of the shopping parcels tucked under my arm, which I’d retrieved from the guard. I had absolutely no reason to feel guilty. Yet somehow I did.

The Alpha started down the stairs, slowly and purposefully. My pulse did something unfortunate.

By the time he stopped in front of me, every person in the courtyard had found somewhere else to look. His eyes were narrowed at me. Fury was flowing off him in waves.

Well, what the hell was he angry at?

“Uh,” I said intelligently. “Welcome ba-“

His icy tone cut me off, “Where the fuck are you coming from?”