She glared out of the window. ‘It’s been positively hateful these past few days.’
He gave her a flat smile. ‘Welcome to Gevra, princess.’
‘I want to see the beasts,’ she said, folding her arms. ‘Surely there are some kept indoors that I can play with?’
He stared at her. ‘I don’t keep a nursery, Elva.’
‘Perhaps you should, because I am dangerously close to throwing a tantrum.’
‘Fine. Come with me,’ he said, as an idea occurred to him. Something that would appease both his mother and the princess, without wrenching too much time from his day. ‘I know somewhere we can walk. And if you’re lucky, you’ll see some beasts, too.’
Her face lit up as she strode to meet him and with the kind of ease he usually felt only with his sister Anika, Elva tucked her arm through the crook of his elbow and fell into step beside him.
It was a short walk to the glass corridor on the upper floor of the palace. Vine was already there, looking out over the courtyard with her hands tucked behind her back. When she spotted Alarik and Elva coming towards her, she broke into a grin.Alarik did not, for one moment, think his war captain’s delight had anything to do with his unexpected arrival. Rather, the beautiful princess on his arm and the full-mouthed smile she was returning.
‘Finally, a friendly face around here,’ said Elva, skipping over to Vine. ‘Where haveyoubeen hiding all week?’
‘Shouldn’t you be out in that blizzard, training our soldiers?’ said Alarik, by way of greeting.
‘We’ve been training since sunrise,’ said Vine, indicating the mud stains on her boots and trousers. ‘The soldiers are on lunch, and I’m waiting for the feeling to return to my nose.’
‘While spying on my wrangler?’ he said, turning to the snow-spattered window and straining to see the arena below, where he knew his beasts would be training, hard as ever, even despite the weather. ‘Are you afraid her regiment is better behaved than yours?’
Vine didn’t rise to the bait, instead offering him a sly smile. ‘Don’t act like you don’t come up here to spy on her, too. Servants talk, you know.’
Alarik looked away, sharply. It wasn’t as if he spent his days lurking up here. He only came this way every now and then to keep an eye on his wrangler – to make sure she was safe. Hell, she was his best friend’s little sister. He owed it to Tor to watch over her. It was as simple as that … And so what if he liked to watch her train his beasts? That’s what he was paying her for.
‘Oh dear,’ muttered Elva. ‘I think you’ve touched a nerve, Captain Vine.’
They pealed into laughter.
Alarik huffed as he looked between them. ‘I think I’ll leave you two to your mindless giggling and do some real work.’ He cracked his knuckles,thinking of those Vaskan spies in the dungeons.
‘You’ll miss out,’ said Vine, idly turning back to the window. ‘Your wrangler is down there dancing with your wolves.’
Alarik was only mildly embarrassed by how quickly he returned to the window. He pressed his palms against the pane, his breath fogging the glass as he squinted to find her. She was standing in the middle of the arena, the hood of her frock coat pulled up to stave off the gathering blizzard. The fur lining made a silver halo around her face, and even despite the snow, he could see her smile from here. Her mouth was open mid-laughter, and he found himself straining to hear it over the howling wind.
Twenty wolves arced around her, hanging on her every breath. They rose to their hind legs at the click of her teeth and danced – no,pranced, like the prized ponies of Caro. She clapped her hands and they returned to all fours, before springing back up again and repeating the shuffle. Up and down they went, left and then right, hopping on their hind legs while the wrangler twirled and clapped, creating her own rhythm.
‘What on earth is she doing?’ murmured Elva, her nose snubbed against the glass. ‘It looks like she’s holding royal court out there.’
‘Perhaps she’s training them for your official welcome ball,’ said Vine.
Elva crowed with laughter. ‘Or maybe she’s as bored as I’ve been around here and has decided to make up her own fun.’
‘No,’ said Alarik, more to himself than to the others. ‘Whatever this is, there is a method to it.’ His gaze roamed along the courtyard as he tried to unpick the mystery of what she was up to. He made note of the soldiers crowding around the arena, peering over the outer wall to look down on the spectacle. They were captivated by the wrangler and her wolves, glued to the way she darted across that arena, a slip of a thing dancing between beasts that were three times her size. More soldiers came, pouring out from the dining hall and the hut, to see what all the commotion was about.
Most of them were laughing.
As though oblivious to their sneers, Iversen kept moving, twirling her way among the wolves until she stopped abruptly. Her hand shot up and the wolves froze. She moved her wrist – barely a half turn. The wolves crouched in a circle, their sharp teeth bared. Gone was the merriment of a moment ago. Now, they looked like the beasts they truly were, poised to lunge.
Another flick of her wrist and they turned around, showing their backs to her. The circle widened as they prowled towards the outer wall.
The soldiers stationed there stopped laughing.
Alarik smirked.
The wrangler whistled through her teeth.
