Page 37 of Throne of the Wolf Queen

‘Your Highness, would you care to join us? Or do you worry you might dirty those clean, regal hands of yours?’

He arched a dark brow, a playful, winning glint shining in his eyes. I looked beyond him, to where the rebels watched, eager-eyed and thirsty to see me handed my arse.

I indicated my empty arms, my lack of weapons. ‘Do you wish to challenge me to a bare-knuckle fight?’ He smirked. ‘Because my regal hands will be anything but smooth when they’re destroying that arrogant face.’

The ring exploded with excited murmurs and my opponent bit his cheek. ‘I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself if I spoilt my liege’s perfect, never-worked-a-day-in-his-life hands.’ He shucked off his black jacket, tossed it to a comrade and held out his hand. ‘May I suggest making this a bit more interesting?’

I held his stare. A heady thrum of anticipation and anger coursed through me. He’d already passed his judgement on what he thought was the spoilt little king. I couldn’t wait to swipe that smug look from his face. I nodded at him to continue.

Someone passed him a sword. There were no glints of bronze shining in the blade as it twirled in his hand, his eyes constantly on me.

I waited for a moment before tentatively removing my own jacket. No one offered to take it, so I tossed it away, stepping into the ring. Cheers rang out for my opponent, Sacha, and he raised his sword high, spinning in a circle, accepting their cheers as though he’d already won. I hid my smile. Arrogant he may be, but I liked this fucker.

‘First blood, Your Highness?’ The crowd crowed at the prospect of spilling my regal blood, and my heart skipped. But I wouldn’t back away. I rolled my shoulders, bounced on my toes and stretched my arms before inclining my chin.

A rebel grunted, throwing a sword towards me. It slipped through my fingers, the rebels hollering as my cheeks burned and I fumbled for the right grip.

Sacha stretched his long neck, gripped his sword tightly and beckoned me forward. Blowing the irritating strands of dark hair from my eyes, I stumbled forward, holding the sword clumsily. The slightest knock and it would tumble from my hands. Judging by the way Sacha bit his lip, his eyes darting to my left, where my weaker leg shook, that was the plan he’d formulated.

Exhaling, I circled, my arm shaking against the weight of the sword. I glanced to where Mother had sat, an ache spiking into my chest as I noted the empty space where she’d been.

‘C’mon, Sach,’ a woman drawled from somewhere beyond, while I turned so the rising sun lay behind me. ‘Get it over with. I need a piss.’

They all laughed, Sacha included, before he dived forward. I cursed. He was obviously keen to get this over with and catch me off guard. His sword slammed into mine and, sure enough, I cried as it clattered to the ground. Sacha didn’t give me a moment to lament its loss, slicing down towards my left, weaker leg. I threw myself around his right, rolling to the ground, grabbing my sword and standing again in a heartbeat. My sword slashed up, right through his black vest. No blood yet, though.

I allowed the smile I’d concealed to shine as Sacha spun about, anger and confusion etched onto his face, the sudden realisation he’d been played slamming him harder than my weapon.

Correcting my stance, I lunged forward, wanting a matching cut in the front of his vest, but he was quick. Impressively so. His sword blocked mine at the last moment, rotating and forcing me away. He swiped through, continuing his momentum and I dodged to the side, my blade flying behind me and meeting his in a vicious clash. I grimaced as the vibrations slammed into my shoulder. I wasn’t used to training with steel alone – as king, all my weapons were imbued with Vyrium – and I cursed my neglect of practising with a wider range of blades.

For a moment, our gazes locked. A brief flash of respect shone in his eyes before he drew back. He was trying to get the sun behind him, blind me with a disadvantage. My heart swelled as I noticed Mother lurking at the tree line. She’d come to watch after all. In a single heartbeat, I was no longer a king, but a young boy, battling my siblings with wooden swords, my desperation for praise writhing with each breath.

I circled back, denying him the advantage he sought. He’d have to force me to attack, so looking down to my sword hand, he suddenly dived the other way. I dodged, slamming my sword into his hip, and he grunted. When he faced me again, his blade arching towards my neck, all the respect was gone. Only rage lurked in his dark eyes. Screaming, our blades collided. He pushed into me, desperate for the assured advantage he’d been so certain of.

But the itch at the base of my back reminded me of my unfair, toxic advantage.

I ducked and his momentum sent him careening over me. My back arched and I lifted, sending him hurtling to the ground. Cries of anger and disappointment echoed around us as I allowed him a moment to gather his breath, stand again. I revelled in the dusty sweat building on my forehead. The welcome ache of used muscles. Sacha may be a rebel, but he was a fine opponent, and I wasn’t ready to halt this fight yet.

I chanced a glance over to the tree line, my stomach sinking as Mother dissolved into the shadows of the woods. Sacha stood, spitting at my feet. I swiped my hair from my eyes and flashed a feral grin before lunging. Our swords crashed, a thunder of sparks and roaring waves. Each of us with a deep well of anger coursing through our increasingly desperate moves.

Sacha parried well, but he had a pattern. And patterns were lethal openings, ready for me to take advantage of. His right knee twitched, ready for him to spring, to slice into my seemingly exposed torso. I danced, just a fraction out of his reach, just enough for his blade to meet nothing but air as I struck from below. His grip was strong, but his eyes widened, jaw clenched. Sacha knew I had the upper hand. Twisting his sword, he screamed his frustration. His hold on his weapon weakened as I worked to wrench it free. Hearing him cry out as his wrist bent awkwardly, I readied for a swipe at his exposed shoulder when something caught my eye.

Raine, the back of their red hair disappearing into the gloom of the trees, exactly where Mother had gone. I hesitated. It was a mere moment, but long enough for Sacha to regain the upper hand and I hissed as a sharp pain sliced across my cheek. With his chest heaving, a victorious smile split his face, and the crowd exploded into cheers. He raised his arms aloft, pumping his sword hand above his head. I swallowed down the bitterness coating my tongue and forced my chin higher.

I glanced back, but Raine had gone, swallowed by the shadows, and I hated how my lungs constricted. Sacha slammed his sword into the grass, crossed his arms, his satisfied gaze raking over the tick in my jaw.

Wiping the trail of blood from my stubbled cheek, I strode towards him, holding out my hand.

‘Good fight,’ I said, my hand hovering in the empty space between us. He raised his arched brows as he glanced down at my hand, leaving me standing for a few moments before he grasped it, letting go quickly as though I were tainted. ‘Wouldn’t mind a rematch,’ I called over my shoulder, racing towards the trees concealing Mother and Raine, missing Sacha’s answer over the celebratory calls.

I jogged over, finally hissing at the sting on my cheek. Gods, I hoped that wouldn’t scar. Slowing, I disappeared within the chilly gloom of the forest. I grimaced as a dry twig crackled beneath my feet. Raine may not be able to hear me, but Mother certainly would. The image of Raine laying their freckled hand on Mother’s elbow entered my mind, along with the uncomfortable twist I’d felt at the familiarity in their touches. Surely, they were just friends, comrades?

I trod with more care, my ears pricked, and glared at a blackbird who called out a warning as I wove through the cramped trunks.

The woodland carpet muted my steps as the faint remnants of my mother’s laughter carried on the breeze. Holding my breath, I crept forward. Of course, they’d be signing, so there were no voices to follow, just the occasional sounds from Mother.

I halted, my pulse thundering in my ears and a hot rash exploding up my face. Clenching my fists, I fought the urge to turn back at the sounds of… no, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

Forgetting my stealth, I burst forward just in time to see Raine lean back from where they’d held my mother in an embrace. I halted as her eyes widened, taking in her bruised lips. Raine glanced between me and Mother, signing words I failed to see as she shrugged and crossed her arms.