Page 55 of With Fangs and Claws (The Wolf Queen 1)

Chapter 24

Pep and I ran, neck and neck, casting swift glances at each other as we got closer to the barracks’ gates. The little wench knew all the ins and outs of the streets of Bayard and was using them to her advantage. But as Nordred thundered ahead, Blackie’s tail a pennant we were forced to follow, we entered the final stretch which was an open bit of land before the barracks gate.

“I’m getting that horse,” Pep panted. “I’m gonna be knackered by the time we finish.”

I didn’t waste precious oxygen bantering about this. I sliced my hands through the air just like Nordred had taught me, my legs following the same motion. Freed of long skirts and dresses, I could move like the wind, so I did, right the way up to the gate. But while Pep bothered with the hasp, I was throwing myself up and over the fence, landing neatly on two feet before she got through.

“You cheated!” she said, then burst out laughing, her face just as flushed as mine was, I was sure.

“I said get to the barracks,” Nordred said, dismounting from Blackie and tying him up next to the water trough. “I didn’t specify you had to go through the gate.” He nodded his approval to me. “Using your terrain to best suit your aims, just as I taught you.”

“So it’s gonna be like that, is it?” Pep said, then shook her head, seeming to see the barracks for the first time, which made her frown. “Are you sure we should be back here? I heard there was a kerfuffle down here last night.”

She eyed me speculatively then, obviously remembering what she’d heard but Nordred just chuckled and shook his head.

“It’s been a long time since the world has seen the likes of our Darcy,” Nordred said placidly, ignoring the men who were watching us walk through the barracks’ grounds, avoiding the buildings and going around the back to where most of the training was taking place. “There will be many more ‘kerfuffles’ before it accepts what she is.”

“And what’s that?” I asked sharply, his measured tone seeming at odds with what he was saying. “Did you hear about what happened? And why are you so calm about all of this when no one else is? Why would my father’s horse master know anything about Strelae?”

“I was born here some time ago,” he said, casting an eye over the mountains far in the distance. “So I saw exactly what my people would accept and what they would struggle with. I was your father’s horse master up until such a point as it didn’t suit me, and now?” He smiled slowly then, the creases in his face deepening. “Now it suits me to train the new queen. And you, young Pepin, can help me with this.”

“You’re not answering all of my questions,” I said.

“No.” He smiled at me again, and it was difficult to see in his relaxed expression the man who’d worked for my father. It was as if something else had risen up within him, and what that was had yet to be determined. “Answering questions won’t help you with what’s to come, but training will.”

“Well, that’s not mysterious at all,” Pep said with a snort. “So, our blood’s up and you’ve dragged us down here. What do you want us to attack or kill?”

“A bit of archery practice is in order, I think,” Nordred said, waving us over to the archery range.

Soldiers turned to take a look at us when we walked up. There was some low-level commentary going on as we walked behind the lines, but that went quiet when I drew near. Men eyed me as I passed, but said no more. Nordred set us up in front of the targets at the end, turning to retrieve bows and quivers full of arrows from the racks behind us.

“You’ll need something smaller than that, Master Nordred,” one of the men said with a broad grin. “Those bows are a head taller than these girls. They won’t be able to pull them.”

Nordred looked the bows over with undue care, then passed one to me, my eyebrows shooting up in response.

“A smaller bow for Pep would be welcome, gentlemen,” Nordred replied mildly. “And the bushel of apples I asked to be delivered here. They should be sitting inside the armoury.”

“Gonna feed the horsies, are ya, girls?” one of the other men asked with a laugh, then made an exaggerated whinnying noise.

“I need moving targets that can be easily shot with arrows,” Nordred said, “now go.”

My head jerked to one side as I heard a somewhat familiar sound. Nordred’s usually quiet, polite tone was replaced with one he would never use in my father’s stables, one of command. But his voice sounded faintly echoey, just like mine had when I… At the memory of what went on in my father’s room, I held the bow out, then braced myself to draw it.

The men had it right. Under any normal circumstances, the thought of me pulling a bow like this was ludicrous. It was a heavy thing, made for a much bigger person than me, such as one of the wargen soldiers, with their impressive musculature. I heard a few titters as I got into position, understanding completely their reasoning. I must’ve looked like a child with her father’s bow in hand. But that chatter, all other noises fell away as I put my two fingers to the bowstring and then pulled back.

I drew the bow like the thing was made of toffee, not good, hardened ash timber and reverse twisted linen twine. That’s when the jokes stopped. I held the bow as if I had an arrow nocked, as if I was ready to unleash the thing, but of course, I hadn’t bothered to grab an arrow. Instead, I just stood there, holding the weapon like it took no effort at all until someone returned with the supplies Nordred ordered, before finally releasing my grip and letting the bow go slack.

“So what’s the reward this time?” Pep said, casting me a wary look. “And don’t say double or nothing, because I don’t think I want to bet against you, seeing you pull that damn thing. How did you—?”

“No competition,” Nordred said smoothly. “You’re here just to practise. Everyone always benefits from honing their skills. Let's start with five bullseye hits at your current distance.”

“From here?” Pep said with a frown. “Just remember, I’ve got a little bow, not like that beast of a thing.”

“And how far away do you shoot your targets from when climbing across the roofs of Bayard?” Nordred asked Pepin, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, alright. Ready, princess?”

Was I? This felt so unreal. It wasn’t hard to imagine myself back at the keep, my father upstairs, doing duke-ish things while I unleashed arrows at targets with Nordred by my side. The men would talk, just like these did, some exchanging coin, never turning down an opportunity to place a bet. But all of that would fade away as I shouldered my quiver, as I nocked my arrow, as I drew back the string and stared down the sight, seeing, feeling the sharp point piercing the red bullseye before I’d even let fly.

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