Page 22 of The Wolf Queen

I couldn’t help but smile. Sometimes my mate was such a child, always looking for more attention, but I met him halfway, pressing a brief kiss to his lips—all that the rocking gait of our slowly ambling horses would allow—and that appeared to be enough. Weyland glowed whenever he got what he wanted, his smile growing as smug and satisfied as a big cat, which was why I kept indulging him.

“Selene says there’s something wrong with him,” I answered Weyland belatedly, in a low tone, hoping it was out of earshot.

“What?” came the comment from the riders of the horses closest to me—letting me know that my mates had been paying close attention to our conversation.

Suddenly poor Arden was hemmed in by each of my mates’ horses. His head jerked up and he let out a nervous whinny, but my men paid little attention.

“Selene says he has a wolf,” I replied in a hoarse whisper, realising, as our horses jostled each other, that we had everyone’s attention.

Including Rake’s. He turned in the saddle, eyebrow rising as he saw the kerfuffle playing out behind him, but my men paid him little mind.

“You didn’t say anything about that before,” Dane replied, brows lowered.

Between the packing and preparation, the meetings and discussions about how everyone would be kept safe, along with trying to plan how I might woo the crown prince to our side, it hadn’t come up. He acknowledged this with a nod, then kicked his horse forward, going to take position ahead on the road beside the Maidens.

“He doesn’t have the feel of one of the two-souled,” Axe said, consideringly.

“He could be some kind of mongrel.” Gael’s voice was little more than a growl. “Speaking of which, you’ll see more of them around. We’re headed to Middlebury, the waypoint between the south and the north, and it’s the place a lot of half-breeds go. If they stay on the border they’re likely to be shoved across it, or else hung at the closest crossroads.” When his eyes went to his reins, my hand reached out and clasped his. “My mother lives there in the town.”

Ulfric’s fated mate, left to fend for herself inside a country that would always hate her son. I squeezed his hand hard.

“We could go and see her, if you like; if you think she’d welcome having us visit her home. We can introduce her to the children,” I said. He stared at me then nodded, a half smile crossing his lips.

“She’d like that.” He glanced over to where Jan was chattering nonstop and Del was doing a very good impression of a stoic warrior. “A little girl to spoil.”

“A little warrior queen in the making, more like,” Axe said. “I’ll give young Del a break and have the princess ride with me. He looks about ready to shove her in the dirt.”

And we weren’t even a day into this damnable trip. I let out a sigh so long both Gael and Weyland chuckled, which brought my attention back to what was worth focussing on.

The sun was shining, warming my back, chasing the chill from my bones. Birds swooped from tree to tree—and not a raven in sight. But most of all, here there was no threat of Reavers. Whatever Callum had planned, it didn’t extend this far, yet. I could only hope that I could get through to His Highness, make him understand the threat and have him mobilise his troops in time to stop Callum’s forces entering Grania or, better yet, join with ours to drive them out of both our countries together. Crown Prince Bryson was a shadowy, vague figure in my head, from my visions, standing by my side, just like my mates did. All I caught a glimpse of was a flash of gold, someone tall and strong.

We stopped for a midday meal, something Rake complained bitterly about—shaking his head and grumbling about time constraints—but the children weren’t used to this kind of time in the saddle. I’d been firm but polite about it, then firmer and less polite.

“You walk around armedin your father’s keep?” Rake asked.

“Do you walk around armed in your father’s keep, milady?’,” I corrected, hating that I sounded like Linnea, but unable to stop myself. There was something about Rake’s insolent manner that set me off. “And yes. His horse master…” I paused, just as I did every time I thought of Nordred. “He was the one who taught me how to use both a sword and a bow.”

“Maybe you could scare us up some meat then.” He glanced at the rest of the company with a baleful eye. “Weren’t told I was bringing a whole bloody contingent with me.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan,” I said, grabbing my bow and quiver from my saddle and then stalking off into the undergrowth.

“Not without me.”

Axe appeared beside me, dropping his voice down to barely a whisper and the two of us crept forward.

We were quiet so we could listen to the noise of the forest. When he heard a loud crack, he grabbed his axe from his back, holding it close as we moved. Small skitters were dismissed. They were lizards or rabbits—far too small to warrant our attention. We didn’t want anything big either, a stag would be a waste of meat out here, as well as technically being the property of the king. A particular sort of bird call was what determined our path. Grouse always made this strange churring sound when calling to each other and that was the sound we followed.

“A few fat grouse would make for a damn fine meal,” Axe whispered. “You can easily bring some of those down.”

That casual confidence in me—he didn’t know how much I needed it. Sometimes I felt like an emotional desert, sucking in all of their love and affirmations, feeling as though my need was so great that I would surely leave them all bone dry. But his certainty had me creeping forward, arrow nocked.

Grouse are drab-looking birds, with feathers patterned in different shades of brown, making them nigh invisible amongst the leaf litter and undergrowth. But the wolf inside me ensured my eyes were keen. As I drew my bow back—ready to aim as soon as I caught a movement—I saw the moment they shifted, the flutter of wings being resettled. It was hard to hold the crouched position, and not a good one to be taking a shot, but if I was to stand I would scare the whole flock. I shifted slightly, adjusting to the position I needed to adopt to make the kill, and then let the arrow fly.

I felt like my consciousness flew with that arrow, burying itself in the bird’s breast rather than a damn Reaver. I could feel the electrical prickle of adrenalin, its limbs stiffening for just a second in an attempt to get away, right before all of that died. The bird fell down into the dirt. Axe’s weapon landed at the same time, cleaving another poor grouse in two, then he leapt forward with a whoop to pick up both birds by their feet.

And that was the moment when a wolf emerged from the bushes.

Apparently we’d all been on the same hunt and, by the look of the wolf, he was none too keen on relinquishing his prey. His rib bones showed through his coat as he pulled his lips back to snarl at Axe. My mate mimicked the expression, taking a defiant step forward and throwing up his arms, the aggressive gesture enough to make the wolf reconsider. He stared at the two of us with eyes of purest gold, a glint of what seemed like anger flashing there for just a second, before wheeling away.

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