The Knight; His secret author

A devil’s bargain

*Knightley*

I reach my car driver and issue the order, "Home, as fast as you can." I need to get as far away from her as quickly as possible before I start to regret a choice I had been obligated to make out of love, out of kindness, out of decency because the man who forced me to choose is anything but loving, kind, or decent.

As the vehicle races toward Blackrock City, I close my eyes and inhale her gardenia fragrance that clings to me. It will probably dissipate before I enter my residence, but it's with me now, faint and yet with enough power to haunt my thoughts and cause all my memories of her to bombard me. Holding her in my arms again had been both heaven and hell. Handing her off to Chidding the very depths of hell.

I had hoped by dancing with her that I had demonstrated I still held respect for her, favored her. I wanted those in that ballroom to understand she is worthy of their attention and courtesy. I had noted only a couple of gents had danced with her, unlike her first ball when every unmarried man in Blackrock City had been clamoring for her. I had done that, made her a pariah. When she deserved to be a queen.

The car finally comes to a stop in front of my residence. I leap out of the conveyance, dash up the steps and through the door. I don't even bother to stop as my butler approaches, but hand off my hat, walking stick, and gloves as I pass by the servant. I stride briskly down the hallway to my favorite room, my library, where she had marveled at all my books. Where she had read to me romantic tales and I had courted her with sonnets.

Reaching the sideboard, I splash scotch into a glass and quickly down it, relishing the warmth burning my throat, penetrating my chest, dulling the ache that resides there. After refilling the glass, I walk over to the fireplace and lower myself to a thickly stuffed chair.

Slipping two fingers into the small pocket on my waistcoat, I rub the green ribbon I had once taken from her. It has begun to fray. Eventually, I suppose it will come apart. Perhaps when it no longer exists, the memories of her will fade away as well and my torment will abate.

But I have learned that life seldom goes as one expects.

I had been born the spare, second in line to an Alpha title. I hadn't minded because it meant for the most part my father ignored me, except for the rare occasion when I was summoned into the library where my cheek met the Alpha's palm, and then I was dismissed without ever learning what I had done to displease my sire.

I had never told my mother about the slaps, fearing my father might deliver one to her, because the Alpha gave her little attention as well. Perhaps it was because she was so quiet or maybe because she had the mien about her of someone who wasn't quite of this world. She was always staring off into the distance, the corners of her lips turned up into a small smile as though she had ascended to a place of joy.

When she tucked me into bed after my nanny had already tucked me in, she would sit on the edge of my mattress and tell me a story about a lycan princess who fell in love with a stablemaster or a gardener or a keeper of the hounds. Those were my favorite moments of the day because she brought with her such serenity.

My brother, Francis, four years my senior, was the future Alpha of Morrowind, carrying the beta title as a courtesy. Frank received the lion's share of our father's attention because he would one day inherit, even though he struggled with the numbers and letters that so fascinated me.

For some reason, it angered the Alpha that I was advancing in my studies faster than Francis. I tried to explain to Frank how easy everything was, sharing little tips for making hasty calculations and for recognizing words on sight. But Frank preferred riding, chasing the hounds, and swordplay, even if the swords were only wooden.

When I was seven, I was awoken in the middle of the night by my mother's cries. I slipped out of bed, tiptoed across my room, opened the door, and peered out. I saw two men dragging my mother in her nightdress, kicking and screaming down the hallway toward the stairs.

I would have rushed out to help her, but the Alpha stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, watching. I feared the Alpha more than I feared what was happening with my mother. Surely if she was in trouble, the Alpha would step in to help her. I quietly closed the door, returned to my bed, and stared at the ceiling while tears gathered and rolled down my face for the remainder of the night.

The following morning, during breakfast, while dipping my spoon into my boiled egg, the Alpha announced, "Your mother has fallen ill. You will not be seeing her again."

I opened my mouth to ask for more details, but Frank caught my attention with a widening of his eyes and a shaking of his head. Therefore, I held silent. I knew people often died when they became sick. Had my mother died, then?

Later, Frank told me her illness was the reason she often looked like she was awake but not really there. Mentally, she'd gone someplace else. "She's not well, but they can't do anything for her. It's her mind, you see, but it's not something to be talked about."

I didn't see. Nor did I ever again talk about it.

When I was sixteen, my life took another drastic turn. I had advanced far enough into my studies to be accepted into Alpha School. The night before I was to leave, Frank introduced me to gin and then convinced me to go on a midnight ride. Galloping over the moors with abandonment and recklessness, urging his horse to jump over stone walls, Frank eventually lost his seating, tumbled from his mount, and broke his neck. The heir apparent was dead.

Long live the new heir apparent. Knightley, the now future Alpha of Morrowind.

"It should have been you," my father had grumbled the morning Frank was laid to rest in the family crypt on the pack estate. "Why couldn’t it have been you?"

I wished it had been. For so many nights, so many days, I wandered around Alpha School much as my mother had roamed through the house, in an absent sort of state. I didn't want to be an Alpha. But the law didn't allow my father to replace me. It didn't allow me to turn my back on my responsibilities.

One night, however, I decided if the Alpha wanted nothing to do with me, I would have nothing to do with the Alpha. I would study even harder than I had in the past. I would make my own way in the world. Earn my own money, accumulate my own wealth, have my own residence. I would ask nothing of my father ever again.

Then I met three chaps who also wanted to be independent of their fathers. We began strategizing our course. And the members of the hand were born.

I take another sip of my scotch and stare at the empty hearth. Despite my trust in the members of the Hand, there are things I haven't told them, things I have done that I can't bring myself to voice aloud. Things I'm guilty of. Things I need to make right. Hopefully, tonight I have taken a step toward making amends.

“You’re home early.”

I glance to the side, smiling at the silver-haired she-wolf in her nightdress and wrapper. She's still too thin for my liking. “Good evening, Mother.” Setting my glass aside, I stand and begin walking toward the sideboard. “Brandy?”

“Yes, please.”

By the time I finish pouring it, she's settled in the chair across from the one I had been sitting in. After handing her the glass, I return to my place and take a swallow of my scotch, watching as she sips on her brandy, a small smile of contentment playing at her lips. It brings me satisfaction that something so simple can bring her such joy.

“Back in my day,” she says, eyeing me mischievously, “balls did not end until long after midnight, sometimes not until dawn.”

“They have not changed. Tonight’s is still well under way, I’m sure.” I shrug. “But my purpose in attending had been fulfilled.”

“What purpose would that be? If it is to gain a Luna, I would have thought you would stay until the end.” She says.

I sigh. “Why are mothers always so anxious to see their children married off? You should accompany me sometime.”

She shakes her head. “I have been too long away from pack Society. Besides, I have no wish to encounter your father.”

“We do not attend the same affairs.” I say.

“How do you avoid doing so?” She asks.

I take a long swallow of my scotch and then tap a finger against the glass. “I send him a missive alerting him to the ones I will be attending.”

“He’s an Alpha, even if retired. He’s expected to make an appearance.”

“Look around you, Mother. My Blackrock City residence is larger and posher than his. My coffers are fuller. Do you not think my influence is greater?” I ask.

She gives me a small smile, “I think he has made you hate him with a vehemence equal to my own, and I worry it is spurred by more than his treatment of me. I wish you’d tell me how you managed to secure my freedom from that awful place.”

That awful place. An insane asylum. I was appalled to learn how easy it was to have someone, especially a she-wolf, committed for the slightest unwelcomed behavior. Too quiet, too loud. Caught pleasuring herself. I had no idea what action my father had cited to necessitate removing her from pack society. Until a few years ago, I hadn’t even known she was still alive.

“My being released couldn’t have happened without his approval, for he is my husband still.”

“You shouldn’t concern yourself. It was a price I was willing to pay.” Although not at first. At first, I hesitated. I still harbor guilt for the hesitancy, for considering my own selfish wants and desires, and nearly placing them ahead of hers.

She looks at me. “Does it have anything to do with the reason you don’t stay long at balls?”

It has much to do with the reason I do a lot of things. “I didn’t liberate you from the other place simply to have you lock yourself away here.”

She gives me a little laugh. “Then you shouldn’t have made this place so comfy.”

It's a game we play. Each of us changing the topic when we don’t want to answer a particular question or address an uncomfortable subject. Secrets. We both harbor secrets.

Althea does as well, although I'm fairly certain I’ve figured out hers. Although she could have others hidden away.

I sip my scotch, settling deeper into my chair. I can't deny I have comfortable furniture, that my residence is a bright spot, even if it occasionally feels somewhat lonely. As long as I own it, the hallways will never ring with the laughter of children or a she-wolf's soft murmurings in the dark after I have made love to her.

I will never bring a paramour here, because the memories of time spent within these walls with Althea have worked their way into the very fabric of the foundation. There are moments when I can swear I still catch a whiff of her fragrance in my bedchamber. Impossible to be sure. Linens are changed daily. Flowers are replaced, their scent strong until they wilt. Furniture is polished. Floors are scrubbed. Nothing of her could possibly remain after all these years.

Yet, I can't enter a single room without thoughts of her greeting me. I wonder if Chidding will one day claim the same, if memories of her will encompass his life. Only he won't need to rely on memories because he'll have the reality of her. Her presence. Her passion. And perhaps even her love.

If I hadn't irrevocably shattered her heart when I demonstrated a callous disregard I hadn't felt. I'd hoped to make her angry enough, to fuel a hatred for me that would allow her to survive the devastating pain of betrayal I'd been forced to inflict upon her.

"Are you Alpha K?"

With my thoughts traversing along a path that brought Althea to the fore of my mind, I had forgotten my mother was there. How often had I caught her staring off into what I had believed to be the void? It occurs to me now that perhaps she'd simply been examining a kaleidoscope of memories, a journey that had brought her more happiness than her actual world. Her question, however, sends my reflections scattering like leaves caught up in a gust of wind. "What the devil do you know of Alpha K?"

"I might not be making the rounds through pack Society, but I do keep up with it through the various gossip sheets and newspapers. Why just the other day, someone in a gossip column wrote, 'Those who have known him intimately say it can be no other than the Alpha of Morrowind.' The piece went on to say you were quite a notorious flirt some years back, known for breaking hearts. Your reputation makes it difficult to identify the author apparently. Then there's the book, of course."

"What of the book?"

"I started reading it and was quite enamored as I do enjoy a good love story, but the gentleman began to remind me far too much of you in appearance and behavior, so I set it aside, deciding ignorance of the details might be bliss. This She-wolf. Is she a former... paramour?"

I stare at her. "How did you even obtain a copy?"

"I have a standing order with a nearby bookshop to put aside anything new that I might fancy. I so love to escape into a book. I missed reading while I was away."

Away. Her euphemism for the twenty years when my father had her disappeared from my life, pack Society, the world.

"So, are you?" she repeats.

I want to deny it, but the last thing I desire is for my mother to read the remainder of the book. The very thought makes me want to squirm. I don't expect her to believe me a eunuch, but for Goddess's sake, she doesn't need to know the details of me seducing a she-wolf. "It was years ago, when I was young and foolish."

"Did you love her?" She asks.

With all my heart. With all that I was at the time. What a lie. I love her still. Because of the way she faces me, making it clear she cares nothing at all for me anymore. Because pack Society might think the circumstances of her birth made her beneath them, but she doesn't accept it. She goes to their gaming hell and takes their blunt. She doesn't shy away from attending their balls. Her father is no longer there to offer her protection, but she's learned to stand on her own two feet. To know what she wants and to go after it.

What she wants is to provide her daughter with a life far different from hers as a child, and she will do whatever necessary to ensure the lass is accepted. I may love her most of all for that care, for her ability to understand the veracity of a situation and to go about changing it because the alternative is unacceptable.

"It was a long time ago," I reiterate, rather than respond truthfully.

"That's not an answer, Knightley."

"I have no answer that would satisfy." You or me.

She sighs, "I read enough of the tale to know she did not conform to pack Society's expectations regarding the sort of she-wolf an Alpha should marry."

I can't stop a corner of my mouth from curling up. "No, she did not conform."

"Would you have married her if you weren't the heir?" She asks.

Yes, gladly.

But then my mother would have paid the steep price because if I hadn't been the heir, my father never would have offered me a devil's bargain.