Page 1 of The Warlord's Wildflower
Chapter One
Annie
The gardens are my safe place, where the grass is soft beneath my feet and bees drift lazily between the clover, but…the sparring ring?Definitely, not.It’s all shouting, sweaty men, and loud clashing of weapons. I avoid it at all costs. The moment I step onto the training grounds, I want to turn right back around.
Yet, here I am.
Maeve forgot her satchelagain, and she looked at me with those big, pleading green eyes.“Please, Annie? It’s right by the fence. No one will even notice you.”
Next time, I swear, I’ll tell her to get it herself.
Tiptoeing along the edge of the fence, I clutch the bag to my chest, my bare feet whispering against the sun-warmed earth. The breeze carries the scent of wildflowers, and I take a deep breath, pretending I’m back in the gardens, where the only sounds are the birds singing, and—
Something enormous crashes to the ground in front of me with a thunderous thud, kicking up a whirlwind of dust that blasts me full in the face. I yelp, stumbling back with a squeak, arms flailing. Dirt peppers my dress and tickles up my nose. I’m coughing, blinking through the sudden cloud that has made it appear like I’ve been dropped into a sandstorm. My heart isgalloping wildly in my chest.Sweet Mother Bovina, what was that?I squint through the haze and nearly swallow my tongue.
The cloud begins to settle, andOh my Gods.
It’sFenric. Flat on his back. Right at my feet.
He rises gracefully for someone who has just been knocked off his hooves. His blonde mane is tied back, but a few strands have escaped, curling softly around his face. His horns, smooth as ivory, catch the light as he shakes the dust off his shoulders.
From across the ring, a laughing male voice calls out, “You planning to eat dirt for lunch, Golden Boy, or was that just a snack?”
Fenric doesn’t take his eyes off me. “One moment!” He calls back, ignoring the jab.
I’ve seen him before, of course. Everyone has. The youngest warrior to ever earn his rank so quickly. He’s the one all the girls whisper and giggle about from afar.
Up close, he is breathtaking.
And he’s looking right at me.
My cheeks flood with warmth, and I duck my head, my fingers twisting nervously in the straps of Maeve’s bag. I should say something, but words have always been tricky things, slipping away when I need them most. His eyes are molten gold, and they crinkle at the corners as he smiles at me.
“Sorry about that,” he says, his voice deep, but gentle. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
I swallow, my cheeks blazing. “I-It’s okay,” I whisper, so quietly I’m not sure he even hears me.
He grins. “Are you lost, little blossom?”
The nickname sends a fluttering through my stomach, as if I’ve just swallowed a handful of butterflies.
I shake my head quickly, my words tangling in my throat. “N-No, I just…Maeve forgot her satchel.” I reply, holding the bag out awkwardly in front of me.
I beg the Gods for a sweet, immediate death.
“You’re one of the new ones. The one who sings in the garden.”
Oh no.My face flames in an instant.
He's heard me.
My fingers clutch the leather bag like a lifeline. “I…I didn’t know anyone was listening,” I whisper.
“I wasn’t spying on you or anything. Just thought it was… lovely.”
Lovely?My singing?
I’m certain I’ll melt into the grass. A tiny, shaky laugh escapes me. “It was only humming. Nothing, really…” I trail off, my words dissolving into the air. My feet shuffle a small step back, desperate for escape. “I should go…the milk buckets, I need to check them.”
