I still don’t have a title for this book, but I figure you guys should meet Wolf’s Fang, Eighth Prince of Tangletree (eighth of eight brothers!). One of my best friends, Tiana Clawson, came up with Wolf’s character, and she let me play with him. He’s become a favorite of mine; I really enjoy writing him, and here he is.
Wolf went to the back of the nook—there were more bookcases in here, and a bay window with a window seat—it was almost its own room—and flopped onto the green chaise, stretching his legs in front of him. At home, they told him all the time he was weird, but mostly they loved him while they told him. Here in Shirith, he didn’t even need to be told. He felt his difference.
He sort of wondered if Rhusach felt the same, only being interested in one thing, like he was. If you were normal you liked everything under the sun, but Wolf didn’t, and neither did Rhusach. At least Rhusach could have kids—not that Wolf wanted a bunch of babies stinking up the place with their nappies, but Daddy probably would’ve liked it. He sure liked Rhugar’s baby daughters, and Rhuan’s kids too. But when Wolf thought about the necessities he’d need to go through to actually get a baby, he went soft right away.
He felt weird at Shirith, weird and gawky and insecure, and that was the end of it. Right now he wanted to go home more than he’d ever wanted to go anywhere in his life. He hadn’t wanted to come here in the first place, but Daddy had asked him to, Daddy and Mama together, which was hardly fair. Then Rhugar had asked, Rhugar, who Wolf had never been able to say no to for very long, and here he was hiding from a party, sulking on a chaise in the library. He never did that, either.