That eventide when he returned to their bed, her mood was much changed, duller somehow. And upon the morntide, she no longer came out of the bed closet to eat, only to empty her bladder, with the rest of her day spent lying underneath their bed furs. When he left their bed the morntide after, she could be found staring up at that wooden carving on the closet’s ceiling, and when he returned in the eventide, she could be found to do the same.
It took but two days of this behavior for him to confess her to be the winner of this battle. Verily, he was miserable and he would seek a remedy or it would be a long and cold winter indeed.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“AUNT, I am in need of a potion,” Fenris said without preamble, upon stepping into the small meadow in the forest on the other side of the lake. This was where his aunt received wolves in need of her services in the waning twilight before the night moon fully rose. His aunt he found here, preparing some manner of potion as she was wont to do between visitors.
“Nay,” she answered without looking up from the ingredients she was working with a pestle in a mortar bowl.
“But you know not what it be for,” he said, frowning at her quick denial.
His aunt let out a great sigh and ceased her work with the pestle to say, “I will not give you a potion that will make your queen forget what brought her here or a potion that alters her temperament or a potion that makes her love you or a potion that makes her obey you in all things. Did you have in your mind another type of potion?”
He folded his arms, annoyed by his aunt’s prescience. Even if after twenty and seven winters in her company, it had become more than familiar. “You rather her suffer then?”
“I would rather you fix what is wrong with your mate as opposed to calling on the services of a tired old woman.”
“The same tired old woman who commanded me to seek out my fated mate only a few moons ago?”
“Yea, the same tired old woman.”
“You do anger me, Aunt.”
“Nay, not I. ‘Tis your queen who has you in such fine dander. I am but an old woman seeking peace in my end years.”
“If you truly want peace, then give me the potion I seek.”
She turned to face him then. “Is it known to you how many male wolves do come to me in private, seeking such things? I deny them all as I am denying you. Yet they call me wise woman in your lands and beyond. Why do you think that is, my Fenris?”
“I verily do no know,” he grumbled.
“Because the wolves who seek me out do oft listen to me and heed my advice. This is something you have never done, and you are one of the few who do not think me wise.”
“It is not that I begrudge you my esteem, Aunt. I simply do seek a remedy to my problem, and it angers me that you refuse to give it.”
“I have your remedy. And I will give it, but I would not waste my breath if it is to fall on deaf ears.”
“You have my ear, Aunt, and my audience, but considering your fated mates spell did saddle me with a wife who doth refuse to obey, I cannot promise I will heed your advice.”
She clucked her tongue. “I suppose this is the best I might expect from you. But you would do well to listen to me in this, Fenris. Your queen is from a faraway place, but her suffering is not uncommon. The wolves who have come to me seeking what you seek have all been the claimers of mates. They say their mates will not mind talk with them or clamp around them for a lay. They do whine because their she-wolves challenge their claims or refuse to show them the respect due a husband after their mating frenzy. These male wolves do beg for a potion that will make their she-wolves more biddable, and I tell them all the same.”
She paused with great drama, forcing Fenris to ask, “And this advice be what?
“If your she-wolf is angered by your claiming, the only thing to do is make her want to be claimed by you.”
“I do not comprehend your meaning.”
His aunt peered sideways at him with a smirk upon her face. “Yes, I can see you do not. Let me make it plain for you my handsome nephew. You pulled her far away from her lands. She does not know your people or this place, and she does not want to be here. She suffers, which means you suffer. If you want her not to suffer, if you wish her love for you to grow, there are only two remedies. The first is to give her reasons to love this place, to love you.”
He shook his head. “I care not of love. In addition, she is the one who did betray me, who did attempt to abscond with my pup. Why would I be the one to grovel at her feet? I am the Fenris, and she should count herself grateful to have me as her fated mate.”
“Yea, and if you wish her to count herself grateful, you have need to convince her of your worth.” His aunt’s tone did hold reason, but something in her smile told him she was also teasing him with her words, which only served to annoy Fenris even further.
“If this first remedy be too difficult for one who does ‘care not for love,’ here is the second.”
She unpinned from the inside of her fur another piece of fabric with different words written upon it and held it out to him. “’Tis a spell to return someone you have brought to your own land back to her own. But be fair warned, once she is disappeared, it will be difficult—nay that be the wrong word—I should say nigh impossible to reunite with her.”
His aunt’s words burned in his ears as he walked back to the village. How dare she deny him the potion he sought? If not for her advanced age and their family connection, he would banish her from his home for such daring. But then he did reach his own home, which set silent and again this night, empty.
Oftentimes a few of the wolves shifted during the summer months, choosing to spend their sleeping hours outside as opposed to in the confines of the king’s house. But as of late, his entire family had chosen to spend the sleeping hours outside of their familial stronghold, even though it was winter. Even his aunt, who cared little for shifting now she was an old wolf, spent these hours outside.
However, the dark beauty’s cloud seemed to extend from outside of the closed doors of the bed closet, infecting everyone who entered his house. He, too, had considered shifting at night as opposed to joining her in their bed. Only the certain knowledge of how this would make him look to his village kept him from doing so.
He opened the closet doors and found her once again, where he left her on the morntide, lying in bed and staring at the closet’s intricate ceiling.
“You will attract bedsores if you continue in this manner.”