Alejandro thought the Dimilioc Master was going to say, But… – and then go on to order his death, and maybe Miguel’s. He tried to steady himself against fear and anger, tried to think what he might do or say to persuade Grayson to spare at least Miguel.
Then the Master went on, instead, “You might say, seven wolves is still weak. This is true. You assure me that you and your human brother and Pure sister are capable of loyalty, that you are worthy of some degree of trust, that you will all, in the long term, be an asset. I am inclined to take you at your word – at least so far as to try you.”
Alejandro, braced for a different decision, looked up at him in surprise and mistrust.
“Well?” said Grayson. “Even if Vonhausel’s grudge against your father drove him to follow Edward south, I doubt he will trouble overmuch, now, to seek Edward’s children here in the north. But if he should follow you, well, after all that we have faced and fought and overcome, I hardly think we need to fear Malvern Vonhausel.”
“If he dares come against us at all, him and whatever shadow pack of strays he might have compelled to follow him,” added Zachariah, his lip curling. “Which I doubt. I never cared for him, myself; give Edward credit for choosing his enemies.”
“Not wisely,” Harrison rumbled.
“If not wisely, at least well,” Zachariah said smoothly.
“Sir…” Alejandro said, in some confusion, glancing from one of them to the other. He stopped, made himself take a breath, and said to Grayson, “Sir, you won’t regret it–”
“Of course not,” muttered Ethan.
Harrison snorted. “Why should you complain?” he growled to his son. “You’ll have a black wolf younger than you in the pack. How is that bad?”
Ezekiel was a few years younger than Ethan, Alejandro was fairly sure, but of course the verdugo did not count. Ethan grunted, giving Alejandro an assessing stare. Alejandro looked away, but a long beat too late to appease the young Dimilioc wolf, who glowered. Ezekiel grinned, clearly amused by this byplay.
“You’ll find your own level in Dimilioc,” Grayson said to Alejandro. Then he said to Miguel, “But humans don’t fight wolves. Remember that.”
“No, sir, I know,” Miguel assured him earnestly. “I mean, yes, sir.”
“Now, you,” Grayson said to Natividad. “Dimilioc needs the strong black dog sons and Pure daughters you can give us. You’re not a whore, but you are a valuable commodity. You understand that?”
“Yes,” Natividad said, in her most submissive manner. “I mean, yes, sir. We knew I would be.” She did not look frightened, but her heartbeat had picked up. Alejandro prepared to intervene, if Grayson tried to do anything with her that she couldn’t tolerate. Though he did not know what he could do–
Grayson gave Natividad a long, assessing stare. “You are also a child, and never mind telling me about your married cousins. Fifteen, are you? When is your birthday?”
Natividad said cautiously, “April seventh, sir.”
“April. Nearly four months. So. When you turn sixteen, you may choose any Dimilioc wolf you wish. Until April seventh, I’ll not have any black dog touch you.” He looked deliberately across the half circle of chairs, at Ezekiel. “That includes you.”
That did not seem to amuse Ezekiel. His mouth set hard. He straightened, shoving himself away from the chair on which he’d been leaning.
“Well?” growled the Master.
Ezekiel did not even glance at Natividad. He said, “April is alright. I can wait. I don’t care about that. But if she doesn’t choose me, I’ll kill any other black dog who touches her.” Holding Grayson’s eyes, he added deliberately, “That includes you.”
There was a long pause, heavy with tension. No one moved or spoke; all the black dogs looked down or away, except for Grayson and Ezekiel, whose gazes had locked.
Then Grayson, though he did not look away, grunted and moved a hand dismissively. “In April, maybe. And today?”
Ezekiel dropped gracefully to one knee and bowed his head. “Master,” he said formally.
“Then that will do,” said Grayson, with no sign of concern.
Natividad, frightened or perhaps only shocked, leaned against Alejandro. He put an arm around her shoulders and wished she had thought to claim a November birthday instead. Four months did not seem long. It did not seem like any time at all.
4
It was strange that such a cold world could be so beautiful.
The light was the key to the beauty of winter, Alejandro decided. Natividad had been joking when she’d said it was a different sun here, but she had been right, too. The light here was different. Pale, fragile… purer, somehow, than the southern sun.