Page 22 of With Fangs and Claws (The Wolf Queen 1)

Chapter 10

For such a big animal, Poll had a smooth and steady pace and that, in some ways, was a curse. If I was being thrown around in the saddle like a bag of potatoes, my bones being jounced around with every step, this would have been somehow easier to bear. But the beast moved like silk, each lope creating a rocking movement that achieved exactly what my father had aimed for. Axe’s body was huge, hardened with muscle but while I could feel the rigid slabs of it surrounding me as we ran across the moors, that wasn’t what shifted as we passed trees, shrubs and fields full of bloody lupines.

“Gods, lass,” he said, growling the words against my neck. “You turn up this morning dressed as a lad and then remind me with every beat of Poll’s hooves of all the ways you aren’t.” He moved so he could hold the reins with one hand and place the other against my stomach, forcing that stuttering heat Weyland had lit yesterday in my room to flare to life. “Tell me this won’t be a long courtship. Tell me you feel what I feel.”

But that was exactly the problem. I didn’t ever get the chance to voice any of my thoughts and feelings, not unless I was out from under Father’s eye. And now I had the wargen’s eyes to worry about. So I kept my mouth shut as we went, right up until we came across the spring.

“Over there, where those rocks are,” I said, pointing it out, and Axe directed Poll that way, the big horse ambling over until finally we came to a stop. Immediately, I was up and out of the saddle, sliding down to the ground, Axe following behind me.

“There’s a good lad,” he said to his mount, scratching the broad plane between the horse’s eyes, handing him an apple when the beast persisted in shoving his muzzle into the man’s chest. “Eat your treat, then go and crop some of that rich grass. You don’t get pasture like this at home.”

“What’s Strelae like?” I asked, instantly regretting my question. I didn’t want, didn’t need to know.

“Grass we have, but no open grasslands like this,” he replied. “Strelae is rocky, mountainous, and some of those mountains are full of the ore your king wants so badly. It’s fine for the horses we have, but we’re limited to how many we can keep.” He unhooked a leather saddle bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Strelae was always the less populated part of the country before…” He grinned then. “History’s no use to us here and you’ll see the land for yourself soon enough. Come, let's eat.”

The trees grew thicker here, supported by the steady burble of water, so he took my hand, following the path around until he found the break in the thicket. Heavy stones had been set around the spring’s main pool and Axe stopped for a second, staring at their surface.

I’d traced the shapes incised in the rocks when I was a child, brought down here on family outings, or later, on my own and on horseback. While I’d imagined a thousand scenarios playing out with the carved figures, I was willing to bet they weren’t as clear to me as they were for Axe. He crouched down then, his leather trews creaking as he touched the simple carving of a wolf, of many wolves, and that’s when I shivered. I caught a snippet of my dream just then, a fleeting memory that disintegrated the moment I thought about it. Of wolves running in a pack so big it could’ve covered all of the plains themselves—

“This place…” My eyes jerked up at the reverent sound of Axe’s voice. He grinned, trying to compensate for his serious tone, but failing. “This was a sacred place to my people. These carvings, this spring.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he scanned the place. “If it’s what I think it is, my people would have come here before important events. Matings, battles, dominance fights.” He reached down to the water’s edge, cupping water that I knew tasted of cold stone and iron, before letting it run through his fingers. “We’d anoint the combatants or those about to take their mating vows, so they’d know that whichever way things went, they carried with them the blessings of the gods.”

I frowned as he raised a wet finger, placing a fingertip on his forehead, his lips and then his chest, having to loosen the laces of his leather jerkin to do so. Then he dipped his hand again and approached me. He smiled when I took a step backwards, eyeing his hand suspiciously.

“I know you believe in those imported gods, lass,” he said. “If you’re a true believer, then this will do you no harm. But for me, it’d give me some peace of mind, to know you have the blessing of my gods upon you.”

He raised his dripping hand, slowly enough I could pull away, but I didn’t. That was my job now, to lure them in, to make everyone think I was going along with this, so my eyes fell closed as I felt a damp fingerprint touch my forehead.

“May your mind be true.” Another on my lips. “May your words be true.” The last one in the space between my laced-up collar. “May your heart be true.”

I blinked when I opened my eyes and he smiled at that, but he didn’t know why I’d done it. Because no matter what his primitive gods told him, I owed him and them no truth at all. I was the black cat, the form that Ashleith, Lord of Lies, took when he taunted humans. Axe would never have heard the stories about the ways the god came to the unwary and unworthy, tricking them into performing impossible feats that resulted in their ruin or their death. So, I just smiled my false smile and then, when he bade me sit, I did so, though not quite as close as he would’ve liked.

“Your cook said you’d like this best for breakfast.”

He passed me a cloud-like bread roll stuffed to the gills with bacon and egg and I let out a little groan at the sight of it, which resulted in Axe's hand freezing midway to me.

“Well, if that’s what it takes to get you making those noises, I’ll have one of these at your door every morning.”

I flushed then, looking away, and at the carvings, something Linnea would’ve thought the perfect approximation of coyness. Problem was, it was real.

“Here, girl. I’m offering you food, nothing else, no matter what my cock thought on the way over. Eat.”

The roll was wiggled for emphasis, and I grabbed it from him, unable to bear the sight of the bread and its contents flapping around. It was still warm too, making me feel happy inside when I wrapped my hands around it.

“Take a bite,” he said, watching me closely. “I can see that you want to.”

I did, my mouth filling with saliva at the smell and feel of it.

“And you want to watch me,” I said in a sharp little voice that would’ve earned me a boot in the arse at home, but here Axe just grinned.

“I like pleasure, in all its forms, and while I’m very fond of my own,” He pulled out food and drinks and set them onto the stone before us, “I get quite a lot of satisfaction from seeing someone I care about being pleased by what I provide.”

I froze then, mid-bite, looking at him with a frown from over the top of my bread.

“My brothers say that all I want in life is to be happy and have those around me share that happiness.” The smile faltered slightly then. “They think that makes me simple.”

“So what does that make Gael?” I asked. “A bloody genius?”

He burst out laughing at that, forced to set his food down to try to recover, but I just kept munching on mine. I could almost see the forbidding warg’s face in front of me as I did so.

---