hands in the air for all to see. “What you cast off, believing worthless, others treasure. Hear me well. Any young man who’d prefer a lad to a lass will not be banished. Instead of a time of mockery and shame, it should be a time of rejoicing, for each such soul unites the people of this village and the people of the forest. Together we will prosper beyond what either could do alone.”
Galen shot a questioning look at Erik, knowing full well that the forest people didn’t need any help to survive. If anything, they could teach the villagers a thing or two. Erik winked and whispered, “Trust me.”
To the people, the forest lord said, “From this day forward, when such a lad reaches eighteen summers, a feast is to be held. When the feast ends, he’ll be free to move among the different clans to find his intended mate.”
A few harsh gasps drew Galen’s attention, and he glanced up to see expressions ranging from horror to relief. Following shocked eyes’ lines of sight, he witnessed forest folk who’d started life as farmsteaders entering the clearing. Some glared at their estranged kin; others were swept up in welcoming embraces, and many shed tears of joyful reunion.
“Your young people are welcome into our fold, and any others who’d like to come.”
In the silence that followed, one lone voice rang out: Old Kitta’s. “What of us? If we send you folk, will you send any to us?” Esja smiled and fluttered her fingertips at Galen.
Galen held little doubt that Erik had provided the witch’s words. “Funny that you should ask. Being that we will take those who want to come from your village, it’s only right that we return the gesture with our own people who wish to join outside of our clan.”
He paused, a devious smile flitting across his face. “Is there an unjoined smith here named Svienn?”
More timid than Galen had ever seen the one who’d lured him to his doom, Svienn squeezed through the crowd. Or rather, his father and brother bodily shoved him forward.
“I am Svienn.” He trembled where he stood.
Erik’s toothy grin reminded Galen of the man’s wolf form. “As a gesture of goodwill between your kin and mine, I’ve arranged a match for you.” If possible, his grin grew wider. “Allow me to introduce Marta.”
Chapter Nine
Leaving the village in the capable hands of Bjorn and Meldun, the wolf folk returned to the castle to celebrate a newfound alliance with the farmsteaders, where they prepared an elaborate feast.
Galen’s shot daggers with his eyes at Erik’s renewed attempts to feed him the best morsels.
“You’re my mate, I must… “
“Not your mate,” Galen replied. Yes you are, his wolf replied.
Why does he still argue? Erik asked his own inner wolf.
You desire his cunning, do you not? Erik nodded. He’s negotiating, known among the female of the species as “playing hard to get.” Your aunt teaches him well.
Yes, she does. “Are too!” Erik fired back at Galen, deciding to enjoy the argument.
“Are not!” Galen growled, failing to hide the smile tugging at his lips.
To which Erik replied with a grin, “Are too!” determined to have the last word.
“A-hem.”
Both Erik and Galen glared at the one who’d dare interrupt, dropping their heated gazes immediately in the face of dual growls from Lady Isibel’s mates, one seated before her, one standing behind. Erik might be their co-leader, but one deserved what one got for disrespecting a noble female—a pregnant, noble female.
Isibel placed a dainty hand on One’s arm, digging her neatly filed talons into his flesh until he winced. “Down, boys.” A mischievous grin etched deep dimples in her cheeks. In a light, casual tone, she said, “They say that when you find the one you’re destined for that the mating is incredible.”
Galen and Erik exchanged a perplexed glance.
“Really incredible,” she restated.
The two men looked away several times, sly glances always returning to the other. Their tempers faded to curiosity, their curiosity to something best kept behind closed doors.
“It was rather good, wouldn’t you say?” Erik inclined his head to ask, words intended only for Galen. Several of the clan now sported furry ears, all straining toward that end of the table.
Galen whispered, probably thinking no one else being within earshot was even a remote possibility. He’d yet to learn how sensitive wolf hearing, coupled with single-minded determination, could be. “Well, I’ve nothing really to compare it to, save me own hand, but I don’t think I’d push you out of