Page 42 of With Fangs and Claws (The Wolf Queen 1)

Chapter 19

Bayard was obviously bigger than Elverston, the small town attached to the keep, if the market was anything to go by. The marketplace was packed with people. Stall holders and shoppers, performers playing music or doing tricks to bring in coin, and those loitering around to watch the passers-by. For a moment I stopped where I was, on the outskirts of the fray, and Pep stopped with me, seeming to sense my alarm.

“It’s alright, Darcy,” she said in a low soothing voice. “No one will dare hurt you here. No one in this whole damn country. You’re the princes’ mate.”

I had been about to take a step, lured closer by her voice, but at that last sentence I stayed where I was, frowning. Feelings rose up at that in a great messy tumble, ones I struggled to parse.

“Who are you again?” I asked, much more cautiously.

“I’m P—”

“No, I remember your name.” I frowned, pain building behind one eye as I scanned the busy marketplace, scouring it for threats. “What are you to me? Why are you helping me? Why did you come to my room?” My voice was rising and her eyebrows were rising with it. “Why am I here?”

“It’s alright, Darcy,” she began to say, moving closer and putting her hands on my arms, but I shook them off. I wasn’t ready for comfort, not until I had answers. “You’re in Strelae. The princes brought you here after…” She didn’t need to tell me that part, I remembered the sound of the birch branch whistling through the air. “You slept for days, completely done in by what those bastards did to you.”

That. The sound of her anger, contained but still burning brightly, that had my eyes locking with hers, and what I saw there was hard to take. Empathy, something that was always in short supply in my father’s household, but also…? I peered closer, struggling to place what else I saw in her. Not pity thankfully, because that would’ve had me jerking away. No, there was a warmth there, a steady regard. She didn’t know me, this stranger, but… It felt like despite that gap, she saw me, saw what I’d gone through and still wanted to help.

“The princes asked me to come and look after you when they were out,” she said. “They weren’t sure you’d welcome their presence.” She smiled ruefully then. “They didn’t save you from your father. They were drugged and unable to, but… Let’s just say they’ve got their own shit to sort through. I’ve known them for a long time and they trust me, so they figured having a girl to talk to about the shit they don’t understand might help. And let’s just say I’ve got some insight into the way the Granians work.”

She unlaced the top part of her jerkin, then pulled the back of her collar away until I saw a familiar lattice work of scars, a sight that had my bile rising.

“What you want is something familiar. You want something that will give you pleasure. You want something to ground you after all that bullshit,” she explained. “Getting back on the horse, literally, will help you with that. So, let’s dive into this insanity, find you some clothes and get you on Arden’s back. I’ll take you for a ride around the outskirts of town and show you this part of Strelae. Sound good?”

Nordred was like this when I was hurting. He’d identify the problem with pinpoint accuracy and then come up with the perfect solution, leaving me just staring at him.

“Sounds good,” I said with a nod.

“Well, well, young Pep.”An older man with a grey beard greeted my companion. He was standing in front of a tent, a table full of leather goods before him. I breathed deeply, the scent of tanned hides always a welcome one. “And what can I do for you this fine morning?”

“Darcy needs at least one jerkin, Balin.” She surveyed me closely. “Maybe two. And we need one of them right now.” She hefted the bag of coins on her belt. “We’ve got the coin to pay for a priority order.”

“Doing another job for the princes?” he asked and as she nodded, he turned to me, looking me over with an assessing eye, as if that was enough to take my measurements. “I’ve got something I think can be adjusted.”

“Sure am,” Pep replied. “Darcy is the princes’ mate and they’ve asked me to keep an eye on her.”

“Their mate?” Balin went pale, then went to drop down but my hand shot out to stop him.

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing,” I said. “Please don’t.”

“Of course, Your High—”

“Just Darcy,” I said and those words, they went someway to doing what Pep suggested. I didn’t want titles or other names tacked on top of my own. Right now, I knew I wanted to be just Darcy. I felt a moment of discomfort as the man obviously struggled to get his head around that, but he nodded his head and then went into the tent, pulling out a leather jerkin and then offering it to me.

The work was exquisite. The skin was butter soft, yet would give me support when I laced it around me, each hole reinforced with a metal lug. He undid the lacing swiftly, then held the garment out for me to try on. As it settled over my shoulders, I felt a feeling of rightness I hadn’t experienced since the first time I put on a boy’s shirt. He handed me the lacing and I wove it through the holes, cinching the jerkin tighter around me until I tied it off with a bow.

“This,” I said, sliding my hands down my sides. “We need to get this.”

“Yeah, we do,” Pep said, looking me up and down. “The princes are gonna be beside themselves when they see it.” But her focus shifted quickly back to Balin. “Make us two more, Balin, and add a surcharge on top of the cost—”

“Oh, I couldn’t. Not for Their Highnesses.”

“Darcy here’s gonna insist, aren’t you?”

Pep’s eyes danced as she smiled up at me and this time I consciously responded in kind before turning to the leatherworker.

“Absolutely. Your work is exquisite and you’re doing us a favour by prioritising our order over others. You deserve compensation for that.”

“Well, if you’re sure, Your… Darcy.”

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