As it turned out, Ryker and Emmett had spent the entire time waiting for us in the command rooms. They had dumped the prisoner in the cells. He was sharing with Carter, apparently. And they didn't seem to mind the several hour delay, in fact, they seemed quite happy spending the afternoon in each other's company.
Ryker went to fetch Wimpy, and Emmett gave my neck a long, amused look. "So that's what you were up to."
I sat down beside him on one of the wooden benches and leant against the wall, not deigning to respond. It felt strange to be beside another man, so soon after being marked, but I think Leo knew as well as I did that Emmett wasn't even remotely interested.
He tried again, "I suppose I should thank you. Ryker owes me twenty quid now — he thought it would take another month at least."
That made Leo smile. "You've been betting on our relationship?"
"Sure. So when you two are ready to do the deed, make sure you tip me off first."
I gave him a playful shove and zipped up my jacket to hide the mark. The last thing I needed was a hundred more conversations like this one. If it got back to Fion, I knew I would get an earful and a chaperone. Let alone Rhys...
And Maggie... There would be a 'talk' in my immediate future, even though I had endured it twice already. Once from her when I turned sixteen, and the second time from Rhodric which consisted of a lively demonstration of how best to kick a boy in the nuts and a shameless explanation of some delicate topics. I swear his entire intention had been to make me uncomfortable, and it had certainly worked.
The door creaked open, blinding us with rays of sunlight before it slammed closed again. And there was Ryker, shoving a short man towards us. He was squinty and mouse-like and offered absolutely no resistance to the rogue. The submissive cowardice was a sharp contrast to every rogue I had ever known. It was a flockie trait which only ended in death without a pack's protection.
No, this man wasn't a feral. But they thought he was important enough to keep alive, and I needed to know why.
Ryker sat him down opposite us and took up a sentry position behind the bench, resting his hands on the guy's shoulders. "Alrighty," he began in a quiet, dangerous tone. "Here's how this is going to go. Skye here will ask you questions, and you'll answer with the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Got that?"
"Are you going to torture me?" the man asked nervously. He was wringing his hands and shuffling his feet around. "Because that's not necessary! I'll tell you whatever you want to know."
"Did she ask you a question?" Ryker snarled.
"N-No."
"Then why are you talking?" When Wimpy failed to piece together an answer to that, he received a backhanded blow to the temple. It made an amusingly hollow sound.
I reached into the mind-link before Ryker could terrify him into silence. "Enough. He's already close to wetting himself."
He nodded amiably and retreated a few paces. Wimpy breathed an audible sigh of relief, looking at me miserably. After an awkward moment of that, I realised he was waiting for a question.
"So..." I said, with a sincere smile. "Let's have a heart to heart. Tell me the story of your worthless little life."
"Uh, well, I'm from Ember Pack," he began reluctantly.
"Okay."
"I own two cats."
"Nice."
"I work as a scout."
"Yes..."
"And everything was brilliant until the ferals attacked my pack two days ago."
Ember Pack wasn't exactly renowned for its fighting ability, so that didn't really surprise me. If the ferals were daring to attack Shadowless, they wouldn't think twice about a small, isolated pack in the highlands.
"Oh, cry me a river," I scoffed. "They're attacking everyone."
Everyone except us. It was almost like they were saving us for last. Oh, now wasn't that a comforting thought?
He shook his head, insistent. "You don't understand. They didn't just kill people then leave. There were hundreds of them, and they invaded. Took over the pack house and killed our Alpha. Now his son are rotting in a dungeon along with the rest of the pack. I have it on good authority that they're planning to turn them all feral."
I exchanged a worried look with Leo. This was new, and it would force me to take action. If the ferals had ambitions to take over packs and use the members to bulk up their army, that made it my business. Because they could threaten Last Haven easily with that many fighters. I wasn't about to sit around and pretend like there was nothing wrong until they were at our doorstep.
No, something needed to be done. And for that, I needed allies. Even if I called on every rogue fighter in the north, we would still be outnumbered by several hundred ferals. That left just one option — the packs. So it was lucky, I reflected, that my brother was currently helping out three Alphas. Maybe they would be more open to working with rogues.
"So how did you get out?" I asked.
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"What's special about you? Why are you gallivanting around the country with ferals instead of sitting in a dungeon with your pack?"
"Oh. Uh, well, it's a long story..."
"I've got time," I said with narrowed eyes.
Wimpy nodded reluctantly and began a dramatic tale. "Not to brag or anything, but I tried to free the Alpha's sons. Nearly succeeded, too — and took five of those bastards down with me. They were taking me north to meet some big boss when you found us. For torture or execution, I don't know, but I'm sure grateful you put a stop to it."
I gave him a flat stare. "Yeah ... no. That's bullshit if I ever heard it."
"How did you—?" he began incredulously. As if it wasn't obvious.
"Here's how I think it went," I began, disregarding his question. "You helped them, didn't you? Let them through the border at Ember. Because it can't have been much of a fight — we haven't heard jack squat. So you made it easy for the ferals. And maybe they saw the use in a willing little helper and dragged you along as a guide. A scout would know all the terrain around here..."
Wimpy's jaw dropped.
"And then something else happened, I'm guessing. They got too rough with you or didn't hold up their end of the bargain. Which is when you realised your mistake and started screaming for help through the link." I loosed a long breath. "Phew. Well, do tell. How much did I get right?"
"You— You... I—" he spluttered.
I took that to mean everything and smiled pleasantly. "So, what did they give you to betray your family and friends? Was it money?"
Wimpy stared, gaped, coughed, and then hung his head. His reply, when it came, was hardly audible. "Yes. And they promised I wouldn't get hurt."
A cowardly traitor. Could he get any worse? Then I remembered Brandon — a vicious, cowardly traitor.
"Only they lied," he hissed with sudden vehemence. "I overheard them laughing about it one night. They were planning to kill me when we reached Shadowless. Can you believe that? Kill me! Not even turn me feral!"
"Oh, I can believe it," I muttered. I didn't really blame the ferals for not wanting this guy as a comrade. "Did you say Shadowless?"
Wimpy nodded. "It's where we were going. Don't ask me why — I don't have a clue."
Eight ferals weren't enough to make a dent against Shadowless fighters, so that was strange. I resolved to solve that mystery later and in the meantime keep an eye on our northern neighbours.
I stood up without warning and felt oddly satisfied when Wimpy flinched away. But all I did was walk over to have a quiet word with Leo. They would be able to hear anyway, but that was what I wanted. "Tip off Zach that the ferals are showing interest in his pack. I want the packs in our debt. Got a feeling we'll need them soon."
"On it," he said just as quietly, turning to leave.
"And Leo?" Slightly louder. "Tell Ollie to muster the fighters. I want two hundred stationed around camp by morning."
There. If this guy was still spying for the ferals, let him know that Last Haven wouldn't go down without a fight. It was bullshit, of course. We didn't have nearly so many fighters, but it would be a great deterrent. Wimpy was certainly impressed — he was openly gaping again.
"Who are you?" he asked suddenly. "Some kind of Luna?"
I stifled a laugh, but Ryker smirked and agreed with him. "Yup. She's a Luna all right. The Luna of Rogues."
"No thank you. Nope. That's a lame-ass title," I complained.
"It's what they call you down in camp," he said matter-of-factly. "Just like they called Rhodric the Rogue King."
That took me by surprise. Wouldn't I have heard if it was true? "Never to his face..."
He laughed. "Hell no. That's just asking to be punched."
"Good. So make sure you never repeat that title in my presence." I winked at him before remembering Wimpy, who was shuffling uncomfortably. "Oh. You're still here? Dang."
"No, I popped to the corner shop for bread and milk," he scoffed. "Of course I'm still here. Prisoner, remember?"
Ryker took a sudden step away from his sentry position, and I think Wimpy half thought he was going to get slapped until the rogue clapped him on the back and burst out laughing. "You're a feisty one, huh?"
No one could have failed to notice Emmett's thunderous scowl at that burst of friendliness. But I pretended not to, for both of their sakes'. I could also see Leo leaning against the doorframe, waiting for me. So it was time to wrap this up. "The sarcasm has earnt you prisoner privileges. Lads, if you could take Wimpy back to his cell and deliver a hot meal..."
Ryker made a show of bowing and grinning provocatively. "Our pleasure, Luna."
I would have thrown something at him, except I had nothing that I could afford to lose. Certainly not my knife. So I settled with a vulgar gesture instead.
As Emmett and Ryker hustled him out of the room, it finally occurred to Wimpy what I had called him.
"What? My name is—"
Unfortunately, I never did learn his name, because at that moment, Emmett threw a punch at the guy's jaw. While he groaned and spat out tooth fragments, I went to join Leo, and we headed towards the canteen. It was dinnertime. Or lunchtime. It didn't matter which — the important thing was that it was mealtime and I was hungry.
"You know, when you said interrogation, I didn't think you meant mind reading," Leo teased. "I mean, seriously. Did you even need that guy to answer the questions?"
I had to smile. "Don't exaggerate. I didn't know about Ember, and I wouldn't have guessed. There was no predicting that kind of idiocy — taking over a pack? What were they thinking?"
"Something along the lines of mmm, fresh meat?"
"This wasn't even about the killing, if they took so many prisoners. It's about building an army, I reckon. Feralism seems to be spreading like a disease," I said glumly.
He raised his eyebrows. "And feralism is a word now?"
"You heard Ryker — I'm the freaking Luna of Rogues. I can make up whatever words I want. So shut up."
We were almost too busy laughing to notice the utter silence in the canteen. No one was speaking or even eating. The entire population of the room was staring awkwardly at Leo and I, who were outlined in the doorway. Some of them were, rather suspiciously, splattered with food.
Ah. I knew exactly what was going on, and it wasn't good. No wonder they were looking like children caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Food fight.
With so many immature rogues eating in the same place, these scuffles were an inevitable problem. Fortunately for me, Rhodric had long ago worked out how to solve it. He'd made the consequences so unpleasant that no one dared to throw first. But obviously someone had on this occasion, and I needed to find the culprit. Not join in. No, Skye. Definitely the first thing.
Food fights were strictly forbidden, I told myself.
We couldn't afford to waste food. It was hard enough to feed everyone without tossing dinner on the floor. But that had been before Alpha Jace started paying us a monthly dividend. Now ... now we could afford to eat caviar on a daily basis.
Food fights were strictly forbidden.
I didn't want to be the hardass who ruined everyone's fun. And my inner child was calling to me. Well, actually, my inner child was screaming at me. A bowl of mashed potato on the serving counter began to look really tempting.
Food fights were strictly forbidden.
Yes, I finally decided. They were forbidden, so I needed to find the person responsible and put them on toilet duty for a year. Before I could change my mind, I strode to the middle of the benches.
"Who started this?" I demanded icily. "Turn yourself over or everyone here will share your punishment."
I was willing to bet that everyone else would point out the culprit to save their own skin. But as it turned out, that wasn't necessary. I had a Good Samaritan on my hands.
"Whoa, slow down. There's no need for that. I'm right here y'know," someone called out. I had to squint to identify its owner — a boy in the far corner, sat on a table. A slow smile spread across my face.
"Rhys, I swear to the Goddess, if that's you..."
I could see the grin even from so far away. "Aw, I missed you too, little sister."
Relief was flooding through my body like a tidal wave. He was alive, he was okay and he was here. But there was no way in hell I was going to admit to that, so I went the opposite way and played angry. I folded my arms and glared at him, entirely unimpressed. "I should've known you're the only one who'd pull a stunt like this."
"Yes. You should've," Rhys agreed happily. By the time I noticed the spoon in his hand, it was far too late.
A dollop of trifle hit me in the face. Custard dripped steadily down one cheek, while the cream and jelly collected in my collar.
The whole canteen was eerily silent. They were used to seeing the pair of us squabbling and fighting like, well, siblings. They weren't used to it since I had been in charge. As if it mattered. As if I would beat on my brother for 'showing me up' or some other nonsense.
I wiped my face with one hand and made a rude hand gesture with the other (for the second time that day). And the onlookers seemed to take their lead from there, daring to snigger aloud. Especially Leo — he started laughing like the protective and supportive mate he was.
Picking up the bowl of mashed potato wasn't a choice I made. My hands did it of their own accord. So I obviously couldn't be held responsible for what happened next. Rhys was too far away, but my laughing mate made the perfect target. He didn't find the situation quite so funny after the contents of the bowl had been emptied over his head.
From there on, it was open warfare in the canteen. Alliances were made and broken, innocents splattered with pudding, and no mercy was given. But I didn't give a damn about any of it. All I did was stalk over to the table Rhys had taken refuge under, and pull him into a crushing hug.
"When'd you get back, huh?"
He moved over to make way, and dragged me into safety. A shower of chips fell on the table above while we sat underneath, grinning and squashed together.
"Just now, I swear. Ollie told me you were busy and to come back later. So I went for food — I was starving." I nodded along jovially, impressed that he hadn't just barged in anyway. Then Rhys nudged me. "Speaking of Ol ... is he some kind of big shot now? Saw him telling Syd Jacobs what for earlier."
"Oh, yeah. He's my second."
His grin turned into a genuine smile. "Figures. Don't think I'm gonna give a damn about rank, though. I'll still kick his ass in the training yard."
I had never doubted it, and I didn't promote based on combat skill alone. "Whatever you say, little brother."
It had not escaped my notice that of everyone in the hall, Rhys was completely spotless. That needed to change, and soon. I gathered a handful of peas from the floor while he wasn't looking, crushed them in my fist and shoved the green mush down the back of his shirt.
Rhys wasn't even mad. He tried to swear at me, but the words disappeared in a fit of laughter. And when he had finally caught his breath, all he said was, "Okay, I guess I deserved that for the trifle."
I noticed Leo's legs a few rows away and ducked lower. "And for ditching me on Monday. What, so you prefer Alphas to rogues now?"
"Hell no." His eyes widened, and that familiar hazel gleam reminded me painfully of Rhodric. Like father, like son. Except the son was home and the father was still missing in action. But I didn't want to remember that, so I pushed it from my mind. "I didn't go because I wanted to, Skye. We'll need Jace if the ferals carry on organising the way they are."
I accepted that with a half shrug. "I'm still mad at you. As long as you know that..."
Rhys shook out his shirt pointedly. "And whatever the hell is dripping down my back didn't fix that? Aren't we even?"
"Nah." I dragged out the word. "Reckon I'll milk it for a few weeks at least."
At the other end of the hall, someone flipped a table onto its side and ducked behind the cover. The crash would have woken the dead, let alone a certain sleeping chef whom I would rather avoid. But despite the chaos throughout the room, Rhys and I sat under our table and caught up as if nothing was happening.
"We found the kid, you know. It was worth it in the end."
"Took you long enough..." I made sure to put a question into the words.
Rhys grimaced. "Oh. Yeah — sorry. Jace wasn't so eager to let me walk. I might have done some shit to deserve that, but you really don't want to know. He didn't even 'release' me, just left me alone and hoped I'd take the initiative."
"When?"
"When he heard about Ember and Lowland Packs. The second is too close to his turf for comfort, so I reckon he was getting spooked. Last thing he needed was to piss off the brother of the all-powerful Skye Llewellyn and have rogues nipping at his heels." There was that teasing grin, but a hint of scepticism crept into the last part, "And enemies of enemies are friends, right?"
I shrugged noncommittally, although I was pleased. If Jace was looking for allies in unorthodox places, maybe I stood a chance convincing the other Alphas to work with rogues. "We'll see. And that's news to me. Ember, I'd heard about, but Lowland?"
"Overrun by ferals this morning," he confirmed.
And then we were up to date, except for one piece of controversial news which I had conveniently forgotten. So we joined in the conflict by unspoken consent, because we were deprived children who had never been allowed to throw food before.
I retrieved some supplies from the table above, including ketchup, potato and fish fingers. An opportunist took aim at my open back, but I ducked back under in time to avoid some white substance all over my shirt. The rice definitely hadn't been pulp when the food fight started, I thought, internally cringing.
A torrent of grapes appeared like machine gun fire, pelting everyone in the open. It seemed that the kitchen helpers, who had been hiding behind the serving counter, had finally decided to fight back. All except one — a crying boy with barbeque sauce coating his face who took the opportunity to run out of the door.
Rhys nicked the bottle of ketchup and produced a handful of water balloons from his back pocket. After winking at me, he started filling them up ... with sauce. Creative, but cruel.
"Why do you have—?" I started to ask. "You know what? I won't question it."
"Probably wise." He tied off the end messily and scanned the room for a target. There were an obvious pair of feet in front of the side entrance, so Rhys hurled it in their direction. The tell-tale splat told us he had found his mark.
I peeked out to see who had been hit, only to recoil in horror. The new arrival stood shaking with anger, their features obscured by ketchup. But I knew that build and shape anywhere. Maggie. Behind her was the barbeque-sauce helper, looking very pleased with himself. Little snitching bastard.
Now, that whole situation would have been just fine, if that old woman hadn't been the scariest person in the whole damn camp. Or so everyone else thought. She had always been lovely to me, but maybe that was about to change. After all, I was an accomplice to this crime.
Without offering a word of explanation — because frankly, he didn't deserve one — I grabbed Rhys's collar and dragged him to the back of the hall. Just a week ago, we would have been able to slip out of a gap in the wall. But the builders had been working far too quickly (on my orders, ironically). So the canteen was sealed like a tomb, with proper walls caging us in — forcing us to use an actual door for once.
"WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON?" Maggie shouted with a voice I had no idea she possessed. The entire hall stopped dead, some people halfway through the act of throwing something. Rhys and I had to stop moving or make ourselves as obvious as wolves among statues, but we were in the open. Completely visible. I winced, waiting for the inevitable.
"Rhys Llewellyn!" she growled. "Is that you?"
Oops — busted. Oh well, there was no point in me getting caught too. I tried to shrink down before she noticed me, but my luck had run out.
"No...?" Rhys tried.
"And you too, girl. Don't think I can't see the pair of you." The volume was a good deal quieter, but those next to her were still covering their ears and wincing. "Skye, Rhys, get down here right now. The rest of you are free to go."
People streamed out of the hall at an alarming rate. Stampede was a good word for it. And I was helpless to leave with them. Instead, I wandered reluctantly towards my doom. We made sure to drag our heels as much as possible, for all the use it was. I caught sight of Leo at the other end of the room, and he smirked at me before joining the escapees. That son of a bitch.
"Food fights are strictly forbidden!" Maggie hissed, as soon as we were in range.
That's what I said! I thought triumphantly, before realising how little it mattered. I hadn't started the fight, or hardly even participated, but I wasn't about to snitch my way out.
Rhys hung his head to hide a smirk. "Yeah, we know. And we're sorry, Maggie."
"You'd better be! Do you have any idea how long it takes to cook a meal like that?"
"An hour?" I guessed.
"Closer to three! Four hundred and seventy-two people in this camp, including refugees. All of them want feeding, and now look. Wasted! I'll have to start from scratch, all because you teenagers enjoy behaving like animals," she ranted.
"Technically we are..." Rhys spoke without thinking, then caught Maggie's glare and trailed off quietly, "...animals."
Maggie folded her arms and disregarded the interruption. "So what's a suitable punishment? Because I have a few ideas. The other culprits can go to bed hungry, but you two? It's not quite going to cut it. Especially if you are responsible for this mess?" She gestured vigorously at her ketchup-covered clothes, and Rhys winced.
"Me? Nah," he muttered, fidgeting. It would have been more convincing if he hadn't still been holding the second ketchup bomb. My own tactics were to nod along enthusiastically to everything Maggie said and hope she would forget about my involvement.
"Don't lie to me, boy. It won't work. You Llewellyns always were terrible at it," she snapped. Her foot tapped impatiently against the floor as she reached a decision. "Alright. I've made up my mind. As the ringleaders, I think it's only right that you clean this hall by yourselves."
"What?"
"But—"
Our objections were overruled in the way I would brush off a fly. "You heard me — tidy up your mess. I want this hall spotless. Your choice, kids — clean it, or I will clean it with mops made of your hair and bones."
"Whoa, easy there. We'll do it — no need for threats." It never even occurred to me to disobey. Maggie must have been in her late seventies at least, but she was no less frightening because of it. I had even seen her scold Rhodric on several occasions, and he didn't take crap from anyone. Which brought me back to the question: who was she?
Those steely eyes softened for a moment as she took in our resignation. Maggie sighed softly and said, "You are both so much like my daughter. It scares me sometimes, I'll give you that."
At our curious expressions, Maggie flinched as if she had made a mistake. Her eyes slid onto the floor, resolutely avoiding our gazes. She turned on her heel and marched back the way she had come without any explanation. Seconds later, she was gone.
Rhys and I glanced at each other, then shrugged in unison.
"What was that about?"
"Hell if I know," he said.
I tried again. "I didn't know Maggie had a kid. Who's her daughter, do you reckon?"
"Hell if I know," he repeated. "I'll tell you this, though — Maggie has been around ever since I can remember, and no daughter has ever shown up to visit."
With that fruitless conversation out of the way, I collected a pair of brooms from behind the counter and smacked Rhys with his before I deigned to hand it to him.
"Ow!" he complained indignantly. "What was that for?"
"You've only been back an hour and you're already causing havoc. Damned rogue," I teased, then added almost as an afterthought, "You seen Fion yet?"
A wary nod. "Yup. Don't suppose you have any idea what's up with her?"
"Well, her mate died," I said, rather unhelpfully. "Which wasn't really a problem, but what Brandon did to her... Anyone would be struggling. And I don't think your disappearing act helped much."
There was a slight accusation in those words, and he must have realised, because he ditched his broom and wrapped me in a crushing hug. "Hey, I'm sorry. It wasn't deliberate."
"I know. She does too. We were just worried about you, that's all."
At some point during the chaos, my collar must have shifted. It was blatantly displaying the faded mark nestled in the junction of my collarbone. And Rhys didn't fail to notice, because he suddenly tried to catch my scent.
"Skye..." he began. "Why do you smell like Leo? And what is that on your neck?"
My uncomfortable silence was all the answer he needed. I wasn't feeling guilty that I had let my mate mark me, just that I hadn't even told my brother that I had a mate. But as his reaction proved, there was a good reason for that.
"I'm going to kill him," Rhys growled.