Page 47 of With Fangs and Claws (The Wolf Queen 1)

Chapter 21

Walking through the town with the princes in tow was quite a different experience than the stroll I’d taken with Pep. Everyone watched us as we passed, for one. People bowed low to the princes and to me, each one of the men greeting those they knew, except for Gael. His eyes were on me, a small smile forming when I met his eyes.

“Don’t get too caught up in this,” he said. “It’s just the bullshit of being our father’s sons. It used to do my head in when I first came to Strelae, but I learned pretty quick it will all evaporate if Father gets torn apart in a challenge.”

“And is that likely to happen?” I asked him.

“At some point.” Gael’s eyes roamed over the streets of Bayard with a kind of restless energy, like a wolf searching for the sign of prey. “Every king goes down screaming.”

“And on that pleasant note,” Dane said drily, “these are the barracks.”

I blinked as I saw a long wooden building at the end of the street, fences barring entry and creating spaces for men to train and for horses to be kept. No one seemed to mind when Axe lifted the hasp on the main gate, letting us and other townspeople in.

“Fighting or betting today, Highnesses?” one older man asked, his teeth a crooked line even as his eyes danced. “All the better to impress the young ladies.”

“Only one I need to impress,” Axe replied, nodding to me. “But I’ve got a few kinks I need to work out.”

“I’ll be betting on you then, Prince Axe. You were always a big bastard and, gods, if you don’t hit hard!”

“You do that, gaffer,” Axe said, clapping his hand on the man’s shoulder with a grin. “I’ll try to make you your money back.”

Any other promises were lost to the noise that increased as we moved into the building, finding a fighting ring and two wargs already brawling within it.

I wasn’t sure how I was going to cope with this. I’d just come out of a violent situation, so was being exposed to more going to have me shying back like a skittish horse, or rushing towards it with bared teeth? As I walked closer, I realised with a sense of relief and a spreading smile that my reaction was positive.

There was something honest about this: no subterfuge, no bullshit rules or traditions forcing these men into the ring. They came here because they wanted to knock heads and knock them, they did. As these thoughts passed through my mind, my hands formed fists in response. I jerked them up, staring at my fingers as my claws pricked my palms. Dane took my hand in his, gazing into my eyes as he straightened my fingers.

“Take a breath, a long one,” he commanded, everything feeling like it dropped away at the sound of his voice. “When you breathe in, bring her with it.”

“Her?”

“Your beast.” I snorted at that. “Maybe you won’t shift. We’re yet to discover what lies within, but right now, take a breath and draw your power in.”

He didn’t bark an order or growl one, but the results were the same. I found I obeyed him despite myself, sucking oxygen in, in, in… When I looked down my fingers were reassuringly human again. Dane nodded, giving my hand a squeeze before drawing me after him and around the side of the ring.

“Jauncy’s the one to beat,” Weyland said, eyeing a huge man who was pounding his opponent before someone leapt forward to put an end to the fight. The other man lay there, still, his face a mask of blood and sweat, something that had me worrying for a moment, but as Jauncy’s massive arm was held up, declaring him the winner, the other man’s face repaired itself with a rapidity that shocked me. He shook his head and then got to his feet, smiling ruefully as the crowd shouted their mocking retorts at him.

Which made me wonder how the hell we’d ever driven the wargen back to Strelae.

“If you’re smart, you’ll wait until he’s got a few bouts in him,” Dane said. “Wait until he’s starting to flag.”

“No one ever accused me of being smart,” Axe said, undoing his leather armour. Tossing the heavy cuirass onto a nearby chair, he shrugged out of his linen shirt. His boots came next, tossed aside, then he rested his hand on the corner post and, in one lithe manoeuvre, threw himself over the top rope to land in the ring. The crowd instantly perked up, shouting abuse and encouragement by turns, something that had my eyes flicking around.

“Don’t worry, lass,” Weyland said, putting a hand on my shoulder until I stared pointedly at it. His face fell as he pulled it back, but he continued to explain. “They love us—”

“Or love to hate us,” Gael said, leaning on the ropes like so many of the men were. He glanced at me and then smiled. “Wargen have an uneasy relationship with authority.”

“Everyone’s always testing everyone else to see who’s the strongest.” Dane’s voice sounded somewhat weary, as he reached inside his jerkin to draw out a flat metal flask. He undid the bottle cap and took a swig, then offered it to me.

I took a sniff, recoiling when I caught a blast of harsh spirits. He chuckled at that with that smug kind of disparaging laugh men often seem to use with women. I frowned at the implicit slight, then tilted the flask back ever so slightly until a small trickle made it into my mouth. That instantly set me to coughing and spluttering, Dane took back the flask, then thumped me on my back until finally I stopped.

“Better watch out for that stuff,” Weyland said with heavily hooded eyes. “Put a little thing like you on your arse.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Gael looked over, then back at his brother who was starting to limber up. “Darcy’s shown us already just how bloody tough she is.”

With that vote of confidence, I plucked the flask from Dane’s fingers and took another drink. I still coughed as it made its way down, but the bigger mouthful seemed to settle deep inside me, creating a slowly spreading warmth.

“Well, let's see how tough our brother is,” Dane said. “I hope Jauncy’s still got fight in him, because Axe has.”

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