The Day of the November Full Moon
I suspected my simple announcement wasn’t going to go as planned when I saw all the other wolves. Every one of them male. Every one of them waiting for the first official audience hours with the righ, since our king’s retirement from the Edinburgh Rovers rugby team.
A long queue stretched all the way from Dùn Faoiltiarn’s entrance to the closed throne room doors. And in front of those stood two guards. One held a Lochabar axe, the other a clipboard.
With an aggrieved sigh, I began to charge past all the other males. But the pubmaster’s youngest son seized my arm before I could reach the throne room's doors.
“Hey! No cutting! You’re gonna have to wait for your chance to put your name on the list like the rest of us.”
I flicked my eyes down to his thin hand on my large forearm. This lad was either aggressively stupid or the sort who didn’t think before he dared to grab onto a wolf twice his size.
“Are you mad?” The pubmaster’s eldest son snatched his brother’s hand away before I could introduce the young fool to the ham of my fist. “He’s the Kingdom Defender and the king’s cousin besides! He doesnae have to wait here like the rest of us. He can put his name on the list whenever he wants, you eejit.”
The younger brother bowed his head and mumbled something. Perhaps it could have been translated as an apology if you spoke the language of Sullen Teenager.
Anyroad, I resumed my mission unabated. But as I continued toward the front of the line, I had a brief wonder about what sort of list would stir up a queue like this one.
Ach, probably better not to know. Most likely it’d be another BUC.
BUCs stood for Big Unnecessary Changes. And that's all our new banrigh had made since moving to our kingdom town a few months ago. She'd even done away with the term banrigh itself.
“Real talk, it creeps me out after what you did to my friend Milly,” she’d told the crowd at her big welcome parade. “Call me Tara—or Queen Tara if you have to be that formal about it.”
So nae, Queen Tara didn’t refer to herself as banrigh. Or call all the changes she’d been making to our old-fashioned kingdom town unnecessary. The opposite, in fact.
She'd labeled all her royal decrees “opportunities to bring Faoiltiarn into the 21st century." Aye, with a straight face.
She'd added invisible money to our banking system. Because according to her, one-hundred percent physical coin and paper systems weren't “a thing” kingdom towns did anymore.
She’d also insisted that Dùn Faoiltiarn running exclusively on candlelight was a fire hazard. Even after Uncle Lachlan explained to her Dùn Faoiltiarn’s proud history.
“The auld dùn’s only burned down a coupla times since its first erection in the late eighth century,” he'd told her. “By castle standards, that’s practically a perfect record!”
But that impressive track record wasn't good enough for Queen Tara. She’d hired electricians to wire up the place all the way from Edinburgh and ordered solar panels on top of that. Then she made me promise to install them.
Even the few children left in Faoiltiarn weren’t safe from her machinations. Queen Tara had insisted on hiring “new blood” to teach our boys. Something about Mrs. Kellywolf being older than Methuselah. She'd also griped about the syllabus not having been updated since the last millennium.
But all the kingdom town residents had been educated in the little schoolhouse behind the castle by Mrs. Kellywolf for over half a century. And we'd all turned out alright. Queen Tara’s mate was a former rugby star. And my younger cousin, Iain, was a tech billionaire even.
She acted as if Faoiltiarn were some wasteland place that hadn’t been surviving just fine before she showed up.
I stopped myself from falling into another mental rant, though.
As I came to a stop at the throne room doors, I reminded myself that the new queen’s BUCs wouldn’t fash me anymore. Not after I made my announcement.
Unfortunately, the two guards standing in front of the entrance weren’t in agreement with the pubmaster’s eldest son.
The one with the Lochabar axe tipped its long staff to bar me from entering. And the one with the clipboard said, “Sorry, Alb, we cannae let you jump the queue. You’ll have to wait the same as everybody else to add your name to the list.”
I raised both eyebrows. Again, what list?
But I’d never been one for the asking of questions.
Another aggrieved sigh—then I snatched the Lochabar axe out of the one guard’s hands. With one arm, I gut-punched him with the bottom of its staff. With the other, I pushed my heavy palm into Clipboard’s face. Action outcome? They both fell to the stone floor at the same time, bottoms first.
Which left no one in my way when I tossed the Lochabar axe aside and let my own self into the throne room.
Magnus was meeting with the baker’s son when I entered the cavernous space. Besides a throne room, it also served as a ballroom and an alternative event space when rain interrupted any of our festivities. So, this being Scotland, pretty much every wedding, town meeting, and holiday fete ended up going inside the throne room/ballroom/whatever-you-needed-it-to-be-today room.
“I’m sorry, Craig. You're a good male, but there’s so much demand, we’ve decided to cut the list off at the age of forty,” Magnus was saying to the baker's son.
Craig slumped his shoulders and bowed his head as if Magnus just told him the castle had decided to go gluten-free. "But this was my only chance!"
“I know it’s difficult with your sister being one of the very few eligible she-wolves in town,” Magnus said with a sympathetic tone. “I wish I had better news for—hello there, Alban! I never expected to see you at the front of the line!”
Instead of answering right away, I cast my cynical gaze around the large space. Had Queen Tara started in with her BUCs here, too?
The answer to that question turned out to be not yet. For the time being, the throne room remained as it always has since the time when both the wolves and the humans of this land had a Scottish king.
Two embedded marble thrones sat on a raised dais in front of a royal blue velvet canopy hanging down from a solid gold curtain crown. Seven-armed six-foot-tall candelabras flanked each side of the stage. And even more candles provided the room with all the light it needed from the giant wrought-iron chandelier hanging overhead. No, bulbs that I could see.
But those solar panels would be arriving any day now.
Everything was changing.
I flared my nostrils. And, I was almost grateful when I heard the scuffle of feet behind me. Those useless guards back for another round. I tensed, curling both hands into fists.
Good. I needed the excuse to hit something.
“Thank you, I’ve got it from here, mates.” Magnus dismissed the guards before I could show them exactly why I had been appointed as the beta of our pack. “And take Craig here out with ye while I have a word with our Kingdom Defender.”
I had to settle for glaring the two smaller males down as they shuffled out with the baker's son.
“Isn’t this a grand surprise!” Magnus said after the doors closed shut behind them.
I eyed my cousin up and down. Since moving back to the Highlands for good at the end of his final season with his rugby team, he’d taken to dressing in a full breacan-an-feilead.
For this afternoon's first audience look, he'd wrapped the Faoiltiarn tartan over a tunic jacket and sporran purse, then belted the rest around his waist to hang down like a traditional kilt. The Scotswolf Royal Family brooch sat at his breast, announcing to the world he was the king of the Scottish Wolves.
Had to admit, the full royal kit suited him. If he found a piece of furniture to lean upon and struck a pose, he’d look like one of the portraits of our royal ancestors lining the throne room’s walls. At least until Queen Tara decided something more modern was needed. Perhaps wallpaper with pictures of computers—like the ones she’d decided to have installed in the castle library.
Another cloud of steam rose between my ears.
“So, you’ve changed yer mind about adding your name to the list for the Bridal Exchange program too, eh?” Magnus said, with a knowing grin. “Got a good look at our newly arrived wiving stock, did ye?”
Wiving stock …
I cast a frown over my shoulder. So, the Canadian she-wolves were the cause of the long queue outside the closed throne room doors.
Aye, I’d gotten a few glimpses of the lot the town referred to as the “St. Ailbe Brides.” Had to stand in another long queue of them this morning when I went to the grocer to get extra provisions for my trip.
But that wasn’t why I was here.
“Look at me, forgetting your formal greeting. Where’s my head, today?” Magnus rose to his feet and spread his arms with a warm, “Good day to you, Kingdom Defender.”
His mate, our new banrigh, remained seated. Even though there was a rule about the king and queen rising to greet the Kingdom Defender whenever he enters their throne room on record. It had been written down with a quill pen in the Faoiltiarn kingdom’s Book of Law centuries ago.
I suspected her failure to abide by this rule had nothing to do with her being five months pregnant with twins. She’d been charging about the kingdom for months now. Changing things that didn’t need changing. And telling any and all how things would be operating now that she was carrying the first set of direct-line royalty in over three decades.
More likely, she’d chosen not to rise from her cushioned throne seat because she didn’t care for me very much. Probably something to do with me kidnapping her from her posh life in Edinburgh on Magnus’s behalf a few months ago after I discovered she was pregnant.
Anyroad, instead of standing to greet me, she turned a cool gaze to Magnus. “The females from my village aren’t livestock. They’re gentle she-wolves. And we’re lucky they agreed to travel here to save Faoiltiarn from dying out due to inbreeding. So, let’s use respectful language when we reference them.”
Magnus would have torn any of us a new one if we dared to speak to him like that. But he capitulated immediately to the mate who couldn’t even be bothered to stand for the Kingdom Defender. “Of course, of course, mo banrigh!”
Then, he turned back to me and said, “I’m glad you came to talk with us about a potential bride, Cousin. You’ve been alone too long. And I can tell you from personal experience that the love of a good she-wolf is nothing short of life-changing.”
He shot his queen a fond look before asking me, “Now which one of our much-appreciated new arrivals have caught your eye, then?”
“The alone bit’s why I’m here.”
Since the Faoiltiarn Book of Law had obviously been tossed out one of those newly-installed insulated windows, I didn’t bother to cushion my words in a polite tone. Just informed the both of them, “I’m leaving.”
Magnus stared at me, open-mouthed. Then shifted uncomfortably, as if those traditional deer skin moccasins he was wearing on his feet were a wee bit too small.
“So, you’ve heard about Gail’s return, then?”
His question rubbed at my skin like sandpaper. I clasped my still-fisted hands behind my back. “Place is too noisy now with all the newcomers.”
Magnus shot me a look rife with disbelief and, even worse, pity. And, suddenly, Queen Tara wasn’t so intent on ignoring me anymore.
“Who’s Gail?” she asked.
“I meant to tell you myself mate,” Magnus said, ignoring his mate’s question. “But I got busy with my last rugby season and all the preparations for the big day …”
“Who’s Gail?” Tara asked again. She leaned as far forward as a she-wolf could get with a belly full of royal twins.
“Nobody,” I answered at the same time Magnus promised, “I’ll tell you later, mo leann.”
But of course, she couldn’t let it go. “Gail …wait a minute. Isn’t that the name of the she-wolf who’s moving back here from Glasgow to teach at the village school this week? But she has a husband. What does she have to do with Al—”
“I’ll be residing at the Brother’s Cottage from now on,” I said to Magnus, cutting her off.
“You mean that shed on Ben Faol?” Magnus asked. “Nobody’s been near that place since your da …”
He trailed off. Our fathers going insane after being left by our mothers was the one thing other than blood that Magnus and I had in common. But it wasn’t something we ever talked about.
And I wasn’t about to break with that tradition.
I didn’t bother to explain that I’d already spent months fixing up the place. Even built a reinforced stable to go along with the chicken coop my father had built during his time there.
Instead, I asked our new banrigh, “When are those solar panels due to arrive, then?”
“On Friday,” she answered with a careful tone. Her eyes darted between my cousin and me. I could imagine all the questions she was sending over her telepathic mate bond with Magnus.
“I’ll be back on Saturday morning to install them, then,” I assured her. True, I hated all the BUCs. But a promise was a promise and I never broke mine.
Tara narrowed her eyes at me. “Installing the solar panels is the only reason you’ll be coming back on Saturday?”
Alright, well, no idea why she was speaking to me in such a disbelieving tone. But I said what I came to say. That meant it was time to leave.
I turned and headed back toward the castle doors without another word.
“You can’t run off to live in the mountains!” Magnus called out behind me. “You’re the Kingdom Defender. What if Faoiltiarn needs you?”
That question stopped me cold. I did take my duties as Kingdom Defender seriously. Just as my father had when he’d been named to the role under our former righ, Lachlan, his older brother, and Magnus’s father.
At least he’d taken it seriously until the loss of my mother had driven him to the Brother's Cottage.
But it wasn’t as if this kingdom or the Scotswolf throne actually needed defending.
The rest of Faoiltiarn was ecstatic to have a new queen and royal twins on the way. And I'd never been of real service to Magnus anyway. I'd been more of a hunting dog for him than anything else, doing the work too dirty for his royal hands. Like kidnapping his future queen.
Besides ...
“That’s what the bell system is for,” I reminded both Magnus and myself as I continued toward the doors. “I can hear them, even as far as the cottage.”
“But what if I need you …” Magnus called out, this time without the same commanding tone in his voice. “You ken, you’re my best friend, right? At least you used to be before you came back from the desert. How about if I need to talk with you before Saturday?”
His questions didn’t even slow my steps this time.
Magnus didn’t need me. Not anymore.
He was a happy alpha now that he’d found his queen. With Tara’s agreement to live in Faoiltiarn, he’d gotten everything he’d ever wanted with a bonus heir on top.
A green ache pierced my chest. He was the opposite of Gail and me.
And he was only right about one thing. I was no longer the male I’d been before “the desert” as he called my time in the Middle East.
“Four rings of the church bells if it’s important," I bit out before reaching for the throne room’s door handles.
Then I pretended I didn’t hear Magnus, calling out behind me, “Alban … Alban. Come back. We can sort out the Gail business. Stay and talk to us …”
I refused to stay. I’d already used more words in one meeting than I usually employed in an entire week. I didn’t need to waste anymore.
Alone. That was all I wanted to be. Now and forever.