The Song Of The Wolf (Unedited)

Chapter Fourteen

"What are you waiting for, girl?" His voice was annoyed now.

Her traitorous stomach gave a loud protest as she edged closer to the table and sat down on the very corner of the chair, ready to bolt at the slightest provocation. It wasn't that the king had been explicitly unkind to her, but his presence certainly set her on edge.

"Thank you."

She ate in silence, the only sounds those of the fork scraping the plate and the occasional rustling of a page being turned. Maebh felt oddly flattered the king had saved her a plate.

In the wake of putting her dishes in the dishwasher, she turned back to the man at the table. "Thank you for breakfast."

The king surprised her by showing a subtle uptilt of the lips. "You're welcome."

Feeling much cheerier, Maebh climbed her way back up with a slight skip in her step. Zeff's words from earlier came back to chase her curiosity into a corner, where it outweighed her rational thoughts and lured her into pressing the red button.

She had not anticipated for the brown-haired man to still be there.

"I told you not to come here!"

Zeff growled, actually growled, as he attempted to grab a hold of her, but she was too fast. Instead of running back to the tower room, she rushed further into the hallway, hoping to shake him off, Maebh urged her feet to step up their game. She could still hear him screaming for her to stop as she ducked and dodged, eyes wildly seeking for a hiding place but finding none as most doors were locked and the hall carried on for forever.

Finally, Maebh spotted a gap in the wall; behind a large oil painting, an opening barely visible. She quickly sneaked behind, mouth agape in amazement as it opened up to a hidden chamber. The space within held rows upon rows of mahogany bookcases that housed thousands of books. The room was deserted, dimly lit by the light of the afternoon sun and dozens of candles.

Stepping further into the library, she let her hand slide along the spines of several works, dust covering her fingertips. Maebh inspected the animal hide bound volumes and breathed in the scent of leather, allowing the distinct smell of old paper to tickle her olfactory. The titles in the shelves, displayed many war tactics and strategy volumes, among histories and a few scientific books. What interested her significantly were the medicinal volumes she found on an upper shelf. It was recently dusted and the books seemingly used in the past weeks. Books about herbal remedies, lists of poisons all the way to surgical methods and even midwifery.

The chamber had a high ceiling with strange symbols carved into it, rock floors covered with cream Berber carpet, and Persian rugs, interesting pictures woven as to tell old stories or legends of the past. The same drawings imprinted on the rugs matched the murals on the walls, images of wolves, howling at the full moon, eyes eerily aglow. Another of four wolfs circled around a bigger, pitch black wolf with flint-like eyes. With a flash, Maebh was reminded of the night she got lost in the forest

The images on the far east side of the wall were of wolves engaged in different stages of copulation. One in particular, was of a wolf with an almost humane look of lust crossing its monstrous head as it penetrated a human female from behind. Her legs spread wide, the beast bent over her with teeth clamped on her shoulder. Averting her eyes with heated cheeks, Maebh opted to inspect the rest of the room.

She climbed the mezzanine and discovered with a sinking sense of dawning, this wasn't merely a library. Pieces of clothing were scattered about, a large canopy bed stood against the wall, covered in a burgundy duvet. A strong masculine odour attacked her senses, making the goosebumps arise.

She was in Fillin's room.

Realisation almost knocked her over as she stared at the oil portrait near the bed. The artist had done an excellent job at bringing him to life, it could have easily been mistaken for a photograph had it not been for the clear sign of brushstrokes, littered across the canvas. Why anyone would want a portrait of themselves in their room was another matter entirely.