The Alpha's Concubine (Historical Shifter Romance) (18 page)

Thankfully she did not have long to wait before Khelt began calling her back to his den in the evenings. He was far gentler with her, making sure she was never in any discomfort while her injury continued to heal, but she was glad just to be sharing such pleasures with him again.

Fern continued to fret over her like a mother hen, frequently staying close by and deigning to remain in the tent rather than joining the others at night, but Netya did not mind her company. It gave her ample time to continue learning the language of the Moon People, sometimes sitting awake for hours with her friend as they practiced small, simple conversations in the exotic tongue.

Netya liked the way she had to change the cadence of her voice to make the words sound out correctly. At first she often attempted to replicate Fern's examples in her natural manner of speaking, only to be scolded that her enunciation conveyed quite the wrong tone she was aiming for. As the weeks passed she became more adept in changing her voice to match the language of the Moon People, often practicing their accent alone as she held one-sided conversations with herself while she bathed or went out to forage. She still had a long way to go before she became as adept at understanding the language as she needed to be, but the pieces gradually came together until she was confident in making simple requests or greetings to the other pack members, often accompanied by a heavy amount of hand gesturing to convey the details.

By all accounts the hunting was still not as good as the Moon People were used to at this time of year, but thanks to the restless tracking of Vaya's herd they were able to bring back enough meat to keep the pack well fed, and the preserved stocks of food were soon ample enough that there was little worry of going hungry that winter.

The weeks of summer crept by, reached their peak, and then trailed off as cooler weather and the rumble of distant thunderstorms arrived. Netya had been with the pack for almost an entire season, and still her fascination with them had yet to ebb. Everything about their way of life spoke to her in a way she had never felt living back in the village. Even her altercation with Vaya could not dampen her spirits, and she had started to notice that, while she was unlikely to ever be on good terms with Adel, the den mother was at least absent enough from daily pack life that their paths did not cross often. She could endure the handful of enemies she had made as long as she had the days with Fern and the nights with Khelt to look forward to.

Even some of the other young people began to engage with her once she started using their language. They would invite her and Fern to sit with them at meal times or social gatherings, and while Netya was still unable to engage in their conversations properly, she at least began to feel less like an outsider among the pack. She even noticed some of the males looking at her in the way Fern had described, and their attention never failed to bring a flush to her cheeks.

It was nice to feel desired, and she did not begrudge the young men for it, particularly now that she had started allowing her eyes to wander in the same way. But their looks did not stir the same excitement in her that she felt whenever Caspian or Khelt were nearby. The alpha's gaze always held a spark of the side of him he revealed in private, both gentler and yet more wild than the one he showed to the pack. Caspian, by comparison, seemed no more enthralled by her than he had been the day they met. His lack of attention was almost frustrating, until Netya realised she did not even know what she had to feel frustrated about. She tried to catch his eye, hoping to recapture another hint of the moment they'd shared together in the tent, but it stubbornly refused to come.

Once it became clear that the final weeks of summer were approaching, Oke, the old man with the single lick of white hair, announced that the time for the celebration of the summer fires had come. Netya could not guess how he kept track of it, but he seemed certain of the precise time, down to the very day, that it would fall each year. It was an important celebration for the Moon People, and was all the more popular among the young wolves for the opportunity it gave them to seek out their future mates, or at the very least to indulge in their youthful cravings freely for one evening.

For the next few days the camp was abuzz with nothing but talk of the coming celebration. The preparations took precedence over everything else. The pack gathered wood to build a ring of large fires around the edge of the outcrop, each one carefully constructed in the shape of a conical pyre and shored up with heavy stones around the edge. Netya was tasked to assist the seer Brae in collecting the fronds of a specific type of bush that would be burned on each individual fire, releasing a sweet fragrance that would blanket the entire camp when the time of celebration came.

It was much more difficult work than foraging, given the scarcity of the special bushes, and Netya had to learn how to gently cut them with her flint knife in a way that would allow the leaves to grow back again in time for the next celebration. Brae was patient with her, though, and after two days combing the undergrowth together they had brought back a substantial heap of fronds ready to be burned. It brought Netya a hint of pride to look at the stack of foliage whenever she passed by, knowing that she had contributed just as much to the festival as those who had built the fires or gone out to hunt.

"Who do you hope will pick you?" Fern teased as they helped to unearth a cooking pit the day before the celebration.

Netya looked up, letting her eyes stray curiously over a group of young men who were making a contest out of hacking apart the last of the firewood nearby. "I have not thought about it," she lied, even as a tingle of excitement built in her belly. "Will the alpha be present?"

"You must be more adventurous than that, Netya! This is the one night you will be free to lie with whoever you wish." Fern pursed her lips. "Thankfully the alpha does not attend. It is tradition for him and the den mother to lie together in a private joining that night."

"And Khelt would rather mount a termite hive than that witch," one of the elders cackled.

Fern pressed a hand to her mouth to suppress a titter, but she frowned at the old woman. "You cannot say such things!"

"Nobody understands the Sun girl's tongue anyway." The elder waved a hand in dismissal. "I can curse in it all I like."

"You are terrible," Fern scolded, but all three of them were smiling. It was hard not to get caught up in the atmosphere of excitement that pervaded the camp.

"Will you be joining in with the festivities, Mother?" Netya asked respectfully.

"The summer fires is a time for young people, though perhaps my mate's spirit will send me sweet dreams while I sleep. He was always an impatient one."

"So?" Fern nudged Netya, refusing to let her be. "Is there nobody who has caught your eye at all? If not, I will force you to pick."

"She wants who all the young girls want," the elder said. "She's been batting her eyes at Caspian trying to make him notice her for weeks."

"I have not!" Netya protested, but her rising flush told a different story.

"If he picks you, even
I
will be jealous," Fern said. "Stealing the two most handsome males in the pack for yourself."

Netya put her face in her hands with a groan. "You make me feel like a lost pup so often. Am I really that obvious?"

"You may have the alpha's eye, girl," the elder said, "but you still have much to learn about the ways of love."

Fern squeezed her arm. "Well, I hope Caspian picks you all the same. So long as you promise not to be upset if he chooses me."

"And if he chooses neither of us we may be disappointed together," Netya said.

"I think we will forget our disappointment soon enough. It is hard to be upset on the night of the summer fires for long."

On the next day the final preparations were finished well in advance, and only those in charge of the food remained busy as they waited to unearth the banquet of vegetables and meats that had been sealed in the cooking pit overnight. The men went down to the plains to bathe and prepare themselves in private, while the women did the same further up the slope near the caves at the summit of the outcrop. When they came back together around the central fire that evening, it would be with an eye for partnership.

Fern and Netya donned their loose gowns of soft animal skin and each took turns making sure the other looked as appealing as possible. Netya was not certain how to best make her friend seem more attractive, so she settled for braiding and ornamenting her hair in a way that made use of its fullness, securing Fern's thick locks atop her head with several pretty pins made of smoothed bone, and then braiding in half a dozen strings of wooden beads that hung down almost to her shoulders. She thought it made her friend's hair look like a pretty crown, and Fern seemed even more pleased by the elegant, striking look she had ended up with.

Netya's appearance, by comparison, was almost the exact opposite. While she had tried to tidy Fern's hair into something more neat and luxurious, Fern quickly did away with her friend's modest single plait and combed her hair out until it was loose and wispy. Netya thought it made her look quite like Adel, though rather than being put off she was instead awed at the thought of commanding an appearance anywhere near as striking as that of the den mother.

Fern kept Netya's hair loose, giving it only a single thin braid near the front that hung against her cheek, while the rest spilled freely over her shoulders and down her back.

"If only I had been blessed with dark hair like yours," the other girl sighed as she passed Netya a handful of woven bracelets for her arms and wrists. "They say the spirits gather all the wisdom of the night when they pour its blackness into the hair of a newborn child."

"You make it sound very mysterious," Netya replied. "And a little frightening."

"It is, and that is why it holds such power. Some have the spirits of the earth bless their hair with its colour, so that they may live well and always find their place in the world. Then on bright days the spirits of the sun put their golden light in the hair of others, bringing vigour and happiness to their lives."

Netya smiled at her. "You have a little of both."

"My mother always said the spirits could not decide what to do with me." Fern looked sad for a moment, and Netya realised that she had not once come across anyone her friend regarded as family during her time with the pack.

"Have you ever seen those with red hair?" she asked, before the good mood could be spoiled.

"Oh yes." Fern nodded. "There are some of them with the North People. They are born from the spirits of blood and fire, so that they may feel more keenly the heartbeat of the world around them. Many of them are great shamans, in the same way our most gifted seers draw their power from the wisdom of the night."

"I wonder if it was this night's wisdom that led me to where I am now," Netya pondered.

"Or perhaps it was a lustful alpha and an excitable girl." Fern grinned, tickling Netya from behind. "The colour of our hair tells only of what the spirits gift us, we may choose for ourselves what we do with it."

"Then I choose not to believe that my hair has any great destiny in store for me."

"Good! Then you will not mind running us an errand to fetch the herbs we need from the seers' cave. Ask for the burnt leaf ones, they should have plenty prepared for the women tonight."

Netya hurried up the slope, glancing back across the camp as she went and feeling another quiver of excitement as the conical pyres around the edge of the outcrop began to flicker to life one by one. As dusk fell the home of the Moon People transformed itself into a giant altar of fire, blazing up into the night sky as one final farewell to the months of summer.

Netya looked to the entrance to Khelt's den as she walked by, but it was not even lit with so much as a single torch. The cave seemed quiet and lonely, and she wondered what the alpha would be doing on this night while many of the other pack members his age indulged in the passions of their youth. He was a strong man. Perhaps stronger than any man. But surely even someone as resolute as Khelt felt the troubles of a lonely spirit once in a while?

There was nobody at the entrance to the seers' cave, so Netya waited patiently outside, making sure she remained a respectful distance from the opening. The urge to peer inside was strong, but she knew what lay within was forbidden to her. Worse still, somewhere inside was Adel's lair.

One of the seers came out after a short while, and she used the words she had learned from Fern to ask for the burnt leaf herbs. The woman nodded and disappeared back inside, leaving Netya to wait on one of the rocks while she kicked her legs and watched dusk fall, humming a tune to herself as the fires started to contrast more and more with the darkening sky.

She was caught off guard when the den mother herself returned with a sizeable bag in her hands and held it out to her.

"Are these the herbs I asked for, den mother?" she asked tentatively. "You are generous, but Fern and I will only need enough for tonight."

"Will you?" Adel said, voice laden with scorn. "Perhaps I should not be surprised. If you hadn't the sense to run when you had the chance, perhaps you care not for whatever child the alpha saddles you with."

Netya swallowed, but held her ground. "I do not need these herbs for my time with the alpha."