Sianim 02 - Wolfsbane

taking little notice of her long-lost sister.
    “I apologize for her rudeness ...” began Correy, but Aralorn smiled and shook her head.
    “I was fourteen once, myself.”
    He smiled and glanced down casually at Wolf, but when he met the solemn yellow gaze, he started. “ Allyn’s toadflax , Aralorn, Mother said you’d brought your pet, but she didn’t say he was a wolf.”
    He knelt to get a better view, careful not to crowd too close. “I haven’t seen many black wolves.”
    “I found him in the Northlands,” said Aralorn. “He was caught in an old trap. By the time he was healed, he’d gotten used to me. He still comes and goes as he pleases. I didn’t know he’d accompanied me here until he showed up in the courtyard.”
    “Hey, lad,” crooned Correy, cautiously extending his hand until he touched the thick ruff around the wolf’s throat.
    “You don’t have to be quite so careful. He’s never bitten anyone yet . . . at least not for petting him.”
    There were too many people in the room for her to worry about the purposeful steps that approached her from behind, but she did anyway. Hostility always had that effect on her.
    The man striding toward them was dark-haired and dark-eyed, the epitome of a Darranian lord. Not as handsome as Wolf—who was half Darranian and looked it—and less dangerous-looking, though he had something of Wolf’s grace when he moved. Nevyn, she thought with a touch of resignation accompanying her nervousness.
    He stopped in front of her, close enough that he was looking down, forcing her to look up to meet his eyes. “You profane this gathering by your presence, shapeshifter.”
    “Nevyn,” she greeted him courteously.
    From the corner of her eye, she noticed Wolf pull away from Correy and slink toward Nevyn, his lips curled back from his fangs.
    “Wolf, no ,” she said firmly, hoping he would listen.
    Yellow eyes gleamed at her, but the snarl disappeared as he trotted back to her side.
    When she was certain Wolf was not going to do anything rash, Aralorn turned her attention back to Nevyn; but the distraction had done her good—and that might have been Wolf’s intention all along. He was a subtle beast. Prepared now, she examined the Darranian sorcerer. The years had been kind to him, broadening his shoulders and softening his mouth. The shy anxiety that had plagued him had faded, leaving behind an intense, handsome man who looked prepared to defend his family from her.
    “I am truly sorry you feel that way,” she said. “But the Lyon is my father, and I will stay for his burial. For his sake, I bid you peace. If you feel it necessary, perhaps we could discuss this in a less public forum.”
    “She’s right, husband,” said a firm voice, and a woman, slightly taller than Nevyn, materialized to Aralorn’s left. In Freya, Lin’s promise of beauty was fulfilled. Thick red-gold hair hung in glorious splendor to her slender hips. Her belly was gently rounded with pregnancy, but that robbed her figure of none of its grace. The dark blue eyes that glanced a quick apology at Aralorn were large and tilted. “This is neither the time nor the place for this conversation.”
    “Freya,” said Aralorn, smiling, “it’s good to see you again.”
    Mischievousness lit the younger woman’s smile as she patted her husband’s arm before she left him to hug Aralorn. “Don’t stay away so long next time, Featherweight. I missed you.”
    Aralorn laughed, grateful for the change of topic. “I missed you, too, Puff.”
    Correy gave a crack of laughter. “I’d forgotten that name. None of the youngsters got nicknames once you’d gone.”
    “Maybe,” said Freya, her eyes twinkling as she folded her arms and puffed out her cheeks in the manner that had given her the once-hated appellation, “I didn’t miss everything about your absence.”
    “If I remember Irrenna’s letters correctly, your child is due this spring, right?” asked Aralorn.
    Freya nodded and started to say more, but Irrenna, emerging from whatever social emergency had been keeping her at a distant corner of the room, called Aralorn’s name.
    Hurrying forward, Irrenna pressed a kiss on Aralorn’s cheek. “Come, dear, the alcove is empty, so you can pay your respects to your father.”
    Although she knew the smile on her face didn’t change, Aralorn felt a cold chill of grief. “Yes, Irrenna. Thank you.”
    She followed her stepmother’s graceful form through the crowd. They paused here