Barbara J. Hancock - Legendary Wolf

Ivan Romanov would be even angrier over the emerald sword than he was himself. Ivan’s truce with Vasilisa was uneasy at best. Nearly hostile at its worst. He needed her help as Bronwal recovered from the damage she had caused with her curse, but Ivan didn’t fully trust the queen. He probably never would.

Or was Anna afraid of the power she might unleash if Ivan Romanov shifted to protect them all from her claim on one of the Romanov blades?

Soren chose not to find out.

He swallowed his wolf. He controlled his concern for Lev. It helped that Anna’s appearance left him with barely enough energy to walk into the next room, where a small, intimate dinner had been set up on a long table he could remember as being covered in dust and debris.

It had been washed and sanded and polished. Candles filled the room on every surface. Elena must have commandeered every candelabrum in the castle and some from the towns in the valley below.

“Elena informs me eating at a fine table is like riding a bike. Although, as you know, I’ve never ridden a bicycle in all my long life,” Ivan said. He walked to the head of the table and pulled out the queen’s chair as if he hadn’t lived as a recluse in a cursed castle for more years than she’d been alive. Elena smiled at him, and Soren forgot how to breathe for long seconds as the love his brother had found punched him in the gut with the knowledge of the love he’d lost.

“Don’t worry. This is a family meal. No more. No less. No prying eyes as we learn how to do this again,” Ivan continued. He sat in a chair beside his wife at the head of the table. But the two other place settings were beside them in an intimate configuration that would be brutal for him as long as it lasted.

“Soren doesn’t consider me family. Not anymore. I’m an unwelcome guest at best. I’ll excuse myself. Perhaps I should have asked for some bread and cheese in my room,” Anna said. How often had he watched her nibble on a crust of stale bread? How often had he helped her forage for food or whatever else they needed?

Not her.

Bell.

He wouldn’t feel sympathetic for a witch who didn’t feel welcome.

“Sit. Eat. We are free to enjoy an actual meal at a table and we will enjoy it, by God,” Ivan said. But Soren’s spine stiffened, because he heard the alpha wolf’s command in the order. His brother, the king, wouldn’t be denied.

Nor should he.

If Soren’s main responsibility was restoring the white wolf to life and limb, Ivan’s main responsibility was restoring Bronwal and all the people in it to normalcy, or the closest thing to normalcy that people out of time and no longer cursed could have. He hadn’t worn the suit Elena had provided for him. But he would eat with his brother and his wife, even if they insisted that a witch princess sit at the same table, too.

* * *

Had she hoped a dress and some lipstick would soothe the savage beast?

Anna was angrier with herself than with the stubborn man who sat across the table from her. He tore into his chicken and potatoes with gusto, and she nearly did the same, pausing only to wash down large mouthfuls with sweet red wine. The sooner they finished, the sooner she could escape back to her room.

If one meal together felt like the end of the world, how would she survive the coming days...and nights...when they would be forced to travel together to retrieve the emerald sword?

Thank goodness for her ability to travel through the Ether.

The sooner they retrieved the sword and destroyed it, the better.

Elena was the only one at the table who picked at her food. She was as slight as a former ballerina would be. Not to mention she’d been sitting at tables to eat her entire life. Anna, like Ivan and Soren, was only now rediscovering what it was like to have an array of delectable food placed in front of her prepared for consumption. It wasn’t strange that they should all concentrate on chewing and swallowing, but their lack of pleasure was.

Anna barely tasted the perfectly browned roasted meat or the crusty bread. It all turned to dust in her mouth whenever Ivan looked up from his plate. The sword’s Call sounded deep within her hollowed chest. It pulsed with her heartbeat. It inhaled and exhaled on her every breath. As the alpha, how could Ivan not hear it, too? Her mother had known. She’d seen the echo of it in her daughter’s eyes.

The thread of enchantment between her and Soren seemed to sing. He sat right across from her, ignoring it. If either of them gave it permission, the connection between them would click into place and become complete.

Instead, they chewed and swallowed and did their best to ignore the powerful magic that was as uninvited in the room as she was.

“Patrice has done wonders with the team of cooks I’ve hired for the kitchen. We suggested she might want to retire, but she’s been baking almost nonstop with the new appliances,” Elena said. When no one responded, she continued calmly, as if she was used to talking to herself. “We’re doing all we can to help everyone with the transition to modern life. It’s challenging but not impossible.” She looked pointedly at Soren’s tunic, but he kept eating as if he didn’t notice.

Anna wanted to tell her that it was more complicated than clothes or table manners. It wasn’t just habit they were trying to overcome. It was post-traumatic stress. It was heartache. It was severed companionship that could never be mended.

Before she realized what was happening, Anna’s hands began to tingle in response to her stress. If her gloves had been off, the glowing veins would have given her away. As it was, only Soren noticed her sudden stiffening and panicked tension as she tamped back down the inadvertently summoned power from the Ether.

“Thank you for dinner, Elena. Everything was delicious. But I’ve traveled a long way and I’m exhausted,” Anna said. She dropped her utensils and stood abruptly. Her chair was knocked backward, but she let it lie where it had fallen. She held her hands in front of her, clasped with threaded fingers, and backed toward the door.

Ivan stood.

It was the polite thing to do. It was also dangerous. Because Anna’s power responded as if to a threat. Beneath her gloves, the power threatened to burn to the surface of the hands that sought to contain it. She’d tamped it down. It didn’t matter. She’d yet to master complete control of her abilities and Ivan was the greatest potential threat she’d faced. Even greater than the feral white wolf.

Whether she saw Anna’s fear or whether she felt Ivan’s tension, Elena reached to place her hand on the alpha’s arm. He looked from Anna to his wife, and his tension melted. He smiled and the wolf in his eyes receded.

Soren slowly rose to his feet as if he knew a sudden move would be dangerous. His eyes locked onto hers.

“I’ll escort Anna to her room,” he said. He spoke her true name as if it was difficult, as if every time he referred to her as “Anna” he also reminded himself to guard against her.

“Just like old times,” Anna managed tersely.

No one laughed. It was a poignant joke. One that hurt more than it helped. She’d had less trouble controlling her Volkhvy abilities on her mother’s island. Probably because no one there saw her as the enemy. And because she’d been far away from Soren. His nearness magnified the Call of the emerald sword.

“Come back to us, brother,” Ivan said, as if he knew they planned a dangerous mission.

“Always,” Soren promised. He circled around the table without taking his intent gaze off Anna. She stood, trembling with the effort of resisting the sword’s Call and the Ether’s energy. No one asked her to return. Not even Elena.