Broken Dove
Page 116
“What gives with the wolves?” I asked.
His brows drew together as his hands at my h*ps glided around so he could hold me. “What…gives?”
It was cute, and sweet, how he reacted to the way I said things in the terms of my world.
I didn’t tell him that.
I explained, “That night, after those things attacked us and you showed, you talked to a wolf and, I mean, I know men can talk to wolves and such, but it seemed like something more.”
“Ah,” he murmured but said no more.
“Ah?” I pushed.
“You do not know.”
“No, I do not know,” I confirmed the obvious, since I was asking.
“I am an Ulfr,” he stated, and I stared.
When he said no more, I informed him, “Uh, I know that, sweetheart.”
“The Head of my House,” he went on.
“I know that too.”
“Ulfr Heads command the wolves.”
At that, I blinked.
Apollo kept talking.
“The House of Ulfr has always commanded the wolves. It’s more than talking to them. They do our bidding, specifically, if needed, during war.”
Wow.
The book on the Houses that I read in Fleuridia hadn’t mentioned that!
And that was cool!
“Seriously?” I asked.
He grinned and his arms tightened around me. “Seriously, dove.”
“So, you bid them to help me when I was in danger?”
“For the most part, yes. The night before the gale, I felt you were protected but I had concerns and wanted to be certain. So I called to the pack leaders and bid them to stay alert, patrol, and come to your aid if it was needed.”
“That was what you were doing before you came back to bed,” I noted.
“It was.”
That explained that.
Apollo kept the information flowing. “The alliance between the Head of the House of Ulfr and the wolves is strong. This is because, during war, they can sustain many casualties thus we do not call on them often, only if the situation is important or dire. And if they do sustain casualties, we avenge them. Therefore, someone involved in this plot, if found, tried and deemed guilty, as treason carries the death sentence without question, they will be turned over to the wolves. The wolves will then tear the perpetrator to shreds as vengeance.”
Uh.
Gross!
“Holy cow,” I breathed.
“It’s unpleasant and has not happened in decades. But it is their due.”
“Yuck,” I mumbled.
Apollo again grinned, sliding a hand up my spine so his fingers could play with the ends of my hair.
“You will obviously not witness this,” he declared.
Thank God.
“I’m down with that.”
His grin turned into a smile.
“Now that I get the wolf business, what’s with the birds?” I asked.
Again his brows drew together. “What birds?”
“I’ve heard mention of sending ‘a bird’ more than once. What’s the deal with that?”
His brow cleared, his fingers tangled deeper into my hair but the expression on his face changed in a way I felt deep in my belly. In a way that made my beautiful Apollo even more beautiful.
I would know why when he murmured, “I forget that you have been here such a short time. It feels I’ve had you in my arms for decades. Strangely, at the same time it feels like fleeting moments. Those kinds of moments that are precious. I forget you still have much to learn of my world. But when I remember, I also remember how I enjoy my opportunities to share with you about your new world.”
I melted into him and whispered, “I enjoy it when you do too.”
He gave me a squeeze, dipped his face close to touch the tip of his nose to mine before he drew away and stopped being impossibly wonderful and went back to just being normally wonderful.
“Communication in this world, as you know, is slow. You’ve explained your world with its phones and computers. As you also know, we have none of that. Messengers on fast horses are used. But if a message is urgent, we send it with a bird. A bird can fly faster and straighter than any horse.”
“Carrier pigeons,” I said and his brows went up.
“They have these in the other world?” he asked.
“Yes, though they’re not used anymore. Not like they used to be,” I answered.
“Interesting,” he murmured.
“So, do you use these birds a lot?” I queried.
Apollo nodded. “Yes, quite often. But not all the time. There are issues with this as the message is tied to the bird’s leg so it cannot be very long. Thus, it has to be concise and cleverly written. Many a time a message was misinterpreted when the few words that can be written are not properly understood. And although birds are trained, if the distance is lengthy, they can come to harm or go astray and never deliver the message at all. Still, they are used regularly and if a message is important, two, three, or even more birds are sent with the same message in hopes one of them gets through.”
I studied his handsome face as thoughts leaked into my brain, thoughts that then leaked out of my mouth.
“Are there others with powers such as yours, bidding the wolves?” I asked.
“Outside Frey and some men who practice sorcery, thus are trained to wield power, no.”
That said a lot. At least to me.
“So, has it occurred to you,” I began quietly, “that it would seem that all the men in this scenario, the husbands of the women from my world, have special things about them? Frey with his dragons and elves. Lahn with his might. Tor, chosen for whatever reason to have his soul connected to Cora. You and your wolves?”
He held my eyes and his fingers stopped moving and tangled in my hair.
“Yes,” he answered.
“Lo—”
“We are all special, Maddie.”
He was right about that.
Save one.
Me.
On this thought, I dropped my head so I could press my face in his neck and his arms wrapped around me tight.
“You are safe,” he stated firmly.
I was.
Because he made me be with him, his men, his wolves.
“You are safe, my dove,” he repeated, quieter but just as firmly.
“I know, baby,” I whispered and fell silent.
After some time, he rolled us to our sides and snuggled me closer.
“Enough talk. We have another long ride tomorrow. Now you must sleep, poppy.”
“Okay, Lo.”
He gave me a squeeze.
I nestled in and closed my eyes.
His brows drew together as his hands at my h*ps glided around so he could hold me. “What…gives?”
It was cute, and sweet, how he reacted to the way I said things in the terms of my world.
I didn’t tell him that.
I explained, “That night, after those things attacked us and you showed, you talked to a wolf and, I mean, I know men can talk to wolves and such, but it seemed like something more.”
“Ah,” he murmured but said no more.
“Ah?” I pushed.
“You do not know.”
“No, I do not know,” I confirmed the obvious, since I was asking.
“I am an Ulfr,” he stated, and I stared.
When he said no more, I informed him, “Uh, I know that, sweetheart.”
“The Head of my House,” he went on.
“I know that too.”
“Ulfr Heads command the wolves.”
At that, I blinked.
Apollo kept talking.
“The House of Ulfr has always commanded the wolves. It’s more than talking to them. They do our bidding, specifically, if needed, during war.”
Wow.
The book on the Houses that I read in Fleuridia hadn’t mentioned that!
And that was cool!
“Seriously?” I asked.
He grinned and his arms tightened around me. “Seriously, dove.”
“So, you bid them to help me when I was in danger?”
“For the most part, yes. The night before the gale, I felt you were protected but I had concerns and wanted to be certain. So I called to the pack leaders and bid them to stay alert, patrol, and come to your aid if it was needed.”
“That was what you were doing before you came back to bed,” I noted.
“It was.”
That explained that.
Apollo kept the information flowing. “The alliance between the Head of the House of Ulfr and the wolves is strong. This is because, during war, they can sustain many casualties thus we do not call on them often, only if the situation is important or dire. And if they do sustain casualties, we avenge them. Therefore, someone involved in this plot, if found, tried and deemed guilty, as treason carries the death sentence without question, they will be turned over to the wolves. The wolves will then tear the perpetrator to shreds as vengeance.”
Uh.
Gross!
“Holy cow,” I breathed.
“It’s unpleasant and has not happened in decades. But it is their due.”
“Yuck,” I mumbled.
Apollo again grinned, sliding a hand up my spine so his fingers could play with the ends of my hair.
“You will obviously not witness this,” he declared.
Thank God.
“I’m down with that.”
His grin turned into a smile.
“Now that I get the wolf business, what’s with the birds?” I asked.
Again his brows drew together. “What birds?”
“I’ve heard mention of sending ‘a bird’ more than once. What’s the deal with that?”
His brow cleared, his fingers tangled deeper into my hair but the expression on his face changed in a way I felt deep in my belly. In a way that made my beautiful Apollo even more beautiful.
I would know why when he murmured, “I forget that you have been here such a short time. It feels I’ve had you in my arms for decades. Strangely, at the same time it feels like fleeting moments. Those kinds of moments that are precious. I forget you still have much to learn of my world. But when I remember, I also remember how I enjoy my opportunities to share with you about your new world.”
I melted into him and whispered, “I enjoy it when you do too.”
He gave me a squeeze, dipped his face close to touch the tip of his nose to mine before he drew away and stopped being impossibly wonderful and went back to just being normally wonderful.
“Communication in this world, as you know, is slow. You’ve explained your world with its phones and computers. As you also know, we have none of that. Messengers on fast horses are used. But if a message is urgent, we send it with a bird. A bird can fly faster and straighter than any horse.”
“Carrier pigeons,” I said and his brows went up.
“They have these in the other world?” he asked.
“Yes, though they’re not used anymore. Not like they used to be,” I answered.
“Interesting,” he murmured.
“So, do you use these birds a lot?” I queried.
Apollo nodded. “Yes, quite often. But not all the time. There are issues with this as the message is tied to the bird’s leg so it cannot be very long. Thus, it has to be concise and cleverly written. Many a time a message was misinterpreted when the few words that can be written are not properly understood. And although birds are trained, if the distance is lengthy, they can come to harm or go astray and never deliver the message at all. Still, they are used regularly and if a message is important, two, three, or even more birds are sent with the same message in hopes one of them gets through.”
I studied his handsome face as thoughts leaked into my brain, thoughts that then leaked out of my mouth.
“Are there others with powers such as yours, bidding the wolves?” I asked.
“Outside Frey and some men who practice sorcery, thus are trained to wield power, no.”
That said a lot. At least to me.
“So, has it occurred to you,” I began quietly, “that it would seem that all the men in this scenario, the husbands of the women from my world, have special things about them? Frey with his dragons and elves. Lahn with his might. Tor, chosen for whatever reason to have his soul connected to Cora. You and your wolves?”
He held my eyes and his fingers stopped moving and tangled in my hair.
“Yes,” he answered.
“Lo—”
“We are all special, Maddie.”
He was right about that.
Save one.
Me.
On this thought, I dropped my head so I could press my face in his neck and his arms wrapped around me tight.
“You are safe,” he stated firmly.
I was.
Because he made me be with him, his men, his wolves.
“You are safe, my dove,” he repeated, quieter but just as firmly.
“I know, baby,” I whispered and fell silent.
After some time, he rolled us to our sides and snuggled me closer.
“Enough talk. We have another long ride tomorrow. Now you must sleep, poppy.”
“Okay, Lo.”
He gave me a squeeze.
I nestled in and closed my eyes.
