Page 20 of With Fangs and Claws (The Wolf Queen 1)

Chapter 9

Kris was holding back, but so was I. I lived such a strange life. One of silence, often barely able to breathe when near my father, but now? I very rarely had an attack on the training ground and that’s why Nordred taught me how to fight in the first place.

The men had laughed as he’d led a skinny little girl out onto the training ground, but he’d bade me to pay them no mind. Nordred had been more father to me than my own, so I did what he told me to without question. And now I lunged out, sweeping my sword through the air, ready to slash it across Kris’ arm, when his rose, blocking my weapon. The shudder of the impact reverberated through me as our blades clacked dully against each other but that didn’t stop me from going back for more.

Legs wide, knees bent, keeping my body loose, ready to move at a moment’s notice, we both shuffled back and forth in the cool sand. I blocked, blocked, blocked against a flurry of Kris’ blows, then attacked with my own. Dropping low, trying to get under his guard. I was so much shorter than him, I needed to use that to my advantage, and it almost worked. His blocks became ugly, ungainly, forcing him to wield his sword at an angle that was unnatural, until finally I managed to slice my sword against his ribs, drawing a cry from him.

“A hit? Milady, you are a force to be reckoned with.” He lowered his sword then, coming towards me, and I did too, though much more reluctantly. My blood was up, my heart was racing and it demanded more, but Kris approached me with a smile, brushing away the stray hairs that fell around my face. “At least Nordred has taught you to take care of yourself. You have a knife or a dagger, in case the animals decide to claim what they think is theirs?”

I nodded with a grin. “Already used it against one of them. The blond warg, Weyland. I tricked him into coming close and then put the knife to his throat. Made him rethink treating me like some wench.”

If I expected Kris to share in my glee, I was sadly mistaken. He frowned then, putting his hands on my shoulders.

“I long for the day when you’ll be able to put all of your weapons away and focus on the real duties of a woman.” I tensed when one hand dropped down and came to rest on my stomach. “Becoming a mother. You’ll be much more settled and I’m willing to bet that taking on your natural role will settle this lung issue of yours.”

“Having a baby will make me breathe better?” I asked, feeling a growing sensation of unreality.

“Being a woman in the truest sense of the words will,” he said in what was meant to be a reassuring tone. “It’s well documented that women who engage in masculine activities block their humours.”

“Their humours?”

“The vital elements in each of us that help determine our character. The master deacon was discussing this with me the other day. I think he actually used you as an example.”

The master deacon was a minor member of the clergy stationed at our keep, ostensibly to safeguard our spiritual wellbeing, though he seemed to spend much more time plumbing the depths of Father’s cellar than anything. And discussing the daughter of the house, or so it appeared.

“And what did the deacon say of me?” I said, my teeth beginning to clamp tight.

“That you’ve been forced to develop too much fire inside yourself, to make up for your father’s lax hand. That His Grace has too much feminine water within him and as a result, the two of you are perpetually at war. You come to the training grounds as an expression of that, operating as a son would. You’ve learned how to fight and hunt just like a boy would, because of your father’s lack. If he’d had a son, this wouldn’t have been an issue…”

Kris kept talking, on and on and on, it appeared. I watched his lips move, saw how entranced he was with this topic, but couldn’t seem to hear it myself. Rather it all became muffled and garbled.

I did, however, feel some of that fire Kris spoke of, so perhaps he wasn’t entirely wrong. Embers started to burn inside me now, ready to create a flame of resentment, when Kris stopped abruptly.

“I’ve been going on again. The men have warned me of my tendency to do this and I apologise, my love.” That little endearment, it doused those embers as efficiently as any bucket of water. “None of this is of any interest to you, of course. Now, are you feeling tired? The moon is high and it’s time to get our rest, I think.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt. People rarely asked, so I didn’t make it a priority to focus on it, but when I scanned my body, my arm felt heavy, a thin sheen of sweat covering my skin.

“Yes, I think it’s well past time for bed,” I replied.

“Even one such as you needs her beauty sleep.” Kris paused for a moment and then surged forward, pressing his lips to my forehead.

Time felt like it stood still as I felt his mouth burn against my skin. It was the second such kiss I’d received today, but the feeling was like chalk versus cheese. I wanted to move closer, to have Kris hug me like he had in the alleyway. I wanted to press my body against his, wrap my arms around him like I had a right to, so tightly I’d feel the impression of him long afterwards. But instead, he pulled back and bade me goodnight, not daring to walk me back into the keep.

And for good reason. When I got to the top of the stairs, Linnea was waiting for me.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” she said in that terrible voice of hers. How the deacon hadn’t banished her for witchcraft, I didn’t know.

“And what game is that?”

“I always said letting you run wild with the men was a mistake,” she continued. “Diminishes the natural boundaries between men and women, between the duke’s daughter and knight. You’re supposed to be an aspirational figure. Distant, aloof—”

“You mean a witch like you?” I said, the words sizzling on my tongue.

I’d had terse conversations with Linnea plenty of times before although never this frankly, but now I’d said it, I was proud of myself for doing so. I watched her draw herself up, inflating like Cook’s cat when one of the hounds came to tease her.

“Don’t bother telling me you’ll tell Father,” I said. “Because we both know how that will go. He bruised me earlier this evening, impressing upon me the importance of my role here.” She smiled then, something wicked and sharp. “But the wargen healed me in minutes, taking away any pain I might have felt, leaving me good as new.”

I watched her face fall, because while Linnea was a thorn in my side, no one could accuse her of being stupid. I smiled now as she realised that while the two of us could be beaten within an inch of our lives for jeopardising this deal, I’d slink off to the wargen to be healed and she’d…

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