Page 9 of With Fangs and Claws (The Wolf Queen 1)

“I’ll get you out of this,” Kris promised, grabbing my fingers and pressing his lips to my knuckles. “No gods-fearing Granian woman deserves to be sacrificed to those heathens: not for ore, not for anything. I’ll speak to the priests.” We had a monastery nearby, one of the most important ones in all the land. They liked the splendid isolation of being near the borders, all the better to devote their time to studying divine law. “You’ll be free, Darcy, free to become…”

Become what? The thing I’d always dreamed of? His? My eyes followed him, Kris’ voice abruptly silenced as he ducked out of the stables and away at the sound of the other voices coming closer. I pulled the horse blanket around me hurriedly, as if that would help.

“We have many fine…”

That sharp halt to Father’s words, the slow narrowing of his gaze, it spoke louder than any shout could. It made perfectly clear that he was surprised to see me down here and that his surprise was not welcome. Father prized predictability and obedience over everything else.

“Ah… you’re awake, lass,” Nordred said, swinging in through the stable door, then stopping when he saw Father. He dropped a low bow in front of all the nobles present, the wargen inspecting him closely. “My apologies, Your Grace, I was just about to send one of the boys up to Gordon so you’d know where her ladyship was. Lady Darcy fainted clear away and Lady Linnea sent for some of the lads to help carry her down here for some of that medicine that helps her.”

He bowed to me, then handed me a brown bottle of horse liniment.

“We waved some under her nose and she appeared to come to, just like always. Has a terrible smell, it does.” Nordred smiled wide at the wargen.

“I’d like to take a look at this ‘medicine’,” Axe said, holding out a hand. “We’ll need to replicate it or at least get the recipe from you, Master…”

“Nordred, just Nordred, Your Highnesses,” he said, dropping a deeper bow for the wargen, but that wasn’t what caught my eye. It was the expressions of each of the princes when they heard the name, their brows creasing, their gazes sharpening as they looked the horse-master over anew. Nordred passed the bottle over and Axe uncorked it, taking a sniff and then jerking his head backwards at the sharpness of it. The stables were filled with the scent of herbs, eucalyptus, pine and ice-cold menthol, making my nose twitch.

“That’d be enough to wake the living dead,” Axe agreed, passing the bottle back to Nordred.

“Well, now that Darcy has wakened, she needs to be brought to her room,” Nordred continued.

“Allow me to do the honours,” Weyland said. “A little unorthodox, I know, carrying a girl over her threshold before a marriage but—”

“You know our wedding customs?” Father said, then he smiled broadly. “Of course, Your Highness, it would be an honour for you to escort my daughter back to her room. She can tell you where it is. Now, if everyone else would like to…”

What? I thought, my eyebrows shooting up. Allowing me to be taken by a man I barely knew to my room, unescorted? Just the thought of doing that would be enough to earn me a whipping, let alone the reality. But Weyland stepped closer, hands out, the same way one does with a skittish horse. I might be able to kick like a mule, but I was no horse.

“I’ll be fine,” I began to say.

“I believe I made a promise to your father to see you to your room,” Weyland said with a smile. “I know I’m but a filthy warg with a word no better than a beast’s, but in this…” He moved in so fast, scooping me up into his arms before I could even blink. “You’ll find me a man of honour.”

“Nordred!” I yelped, struggling against the warg’s arms.

“You’re a long way from home, Nordred,” Weyland said to my tutor as we turned to face him.

“I’ll come with you when you take her,” Nordred said, all traces of subservience leeching away, leaving only the tall, veteran warrior I knew from the training grounds. “You’ll need me.”

“Seems like we might,” Weyland replied with a nod and then turned to sweep me out of the stables.

“Nordred!” I called, one last time, staring at him over the warg’s overly muscled shoulder.

“Go with him, lass,” he told me quietly. “He’s your destiny.”

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