by K.N. Lee
"Evening, brothers and sisters of Wregard," Kylan said, his voice booming as he addressed the dining hall. Fires burned on pyres situated on either end of the tables, and in the corners of the room, as well as from a massive candelabra that hung from the ceiling.
Everyone turned their attention to him, and silence filled the room.
He stood once again, his hand on Amalia's shoulder. "True descendants of the great dragon. The people of Kjos. Citizens of the lost empire of Erani."
Amalia got chills at his words. As she looked down at them, she imagined life in Erani before the war, and how all of those people were the descendants of that once thriving nation.
They would thrive again.
Wine had been poured into everyone's chalice, and she drank a mighty gulp.
"I am pleased to introduce you to your master. Mistress of Erani. The last heir to our throne. Amalia."
A cheer rose from the crowd, and Amalia was relieved. She smiled at them and nodded her thanks. These weren't the people she'd have to convince. They were coming, and she wasn't sure what she'd do to prove herself.
"Now," he added. "Let's drink, eat, and be merry. Tomorrow, the great leaders of the last tribes will arrive, and we will welcome them as brothers. By year's end, we may very well be home."
That elicited an even louder roar of applause and cheers, as the men and women rose from their seats and lifted their drinks to Kylan and Amalia.
Kylan settled back in his seat, beside her, and drank from his glass. He looked to her, and gave a wink.
She giggled, drinking more as the food was served.
Giant platters of roasted pig, and lamb were set at the tables, covered in a rich sauce and surrounded by winter vegetables, potatoes. Baskets of hot, brown bread was placed on the tables as well, and everyone took to eating as musicians played drums and instruments that reminded Amalia of the wind whistling in through the golden fields of wheat back in Skal.
She ate her fill, and drank her share, and by the end of the night, her worries had been melted away.
Peace settled in her heart--peace that was shattered by the arrival of a young boy.
He ran past the tables filled with guests, and no one paid him any mind. No one but Amalia.
he went to Kylan, out of breath, and covered in dirt, and whispered something into his ear.
Kylan listened, his cheeks paling as he did so. He thanked the boy, and sent him away. For a moment, he didn't speak. He simply looked off into the distance, not really looking at anything, lost in his thoughts.
Amalia's stomach bubbled with worry, as she placed her hand on his. "What is it? What did the boy say?"
He looked to her, and exhaled.
"King Matsuharu is dead," he said, and Amalia's heart sank. "Lordisburg has been attacked."
"By who?"
Kylan didn't answer right away, and she leaned forward. "Tell me."
He stood, jaw clenched. "Your friends," he said. "The Wolves."
4
Kylan left the feast, rage filling his veins and threatening to make him shift right then and fly to confront the Fenrir King. For decades they’d tolerated an uneasy peace, keeping to themselves and pretending to be humans.
The king of the wolves had no idea who he’d angered. Though his father had been an amiable man, his son, King Rollo was proving to be less tolerant of anything outside of the Wolf race.
The air was suddenly too hot, and he ripped off his tunic and undershirt as he retreated to his room.
The dim light of a few scattered candles lit the large, but simple room. His wooden bed sat in the middle, with heavy fur blankets piled on top. A bear hide was stretched across the floor at the foot of the bed, with a trunk on top. It had once been his mother’s trunk. Rubies decorated the top and sides, and had brass trim. She’d brought it along with her from a faraway kingdom when she’d been betrothed to his father. He kept her things inside of it, as a memory.
His chest was less elaborate; plain with four buckles and only his clothing inside. The fire was already made in the hearth, and a basin and pitcher of water stood beside it. Dyed furs hung from the stone walls.
He tore one down in a fit of rage and stood at the window, looking out into the dark night outside, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
Just remembering his mother at that time was too much to stomach. He stared at the sky, realizing he hadn’t had a chance to mourn the death of his father. The realization that he was responsible for so many dragons caused an anxiety to rise from his throat. He no longer had his father to turn to when he needed advice.
At that moment, he truly needed someone with more experience to guide him.
Chief of Wregard. He hadn’t expected to hold that title for at least a few more decades.
He leaned against the window, and sighed.
King Matsuharu was an ally. Having the help of the dark elves to make safe passage through the Dragon Pass was a valuable commodity. Now, the dark elves would retreat their aid, and return to their home to mourn their king, and rebuild.
He should have known when this journey started that nothing would be given to them easily, and they’d have to fight for every advantage.
A knock came on his door and he lifted a brow, wondering who would dare to bother him while in his private quarters.
He walked to the door and flung it open, his anger dissipating as his glare met the concerned silver-eyed gaze of Amalia.
He placed his hand on the door frame and watched as her eyes trailed down his bare chest to the line of his linen trousers.
She quickly looked back up to his eyes, cheeks flushed.
“Are you all right?” She asked, her voice quiet as the fire crackled behind him.
He leaned down toward her and tilted her head up to meet his gentle kiss.
“I will be,” he said. “If you come inside.”
She closed her eyes and kissed him back. Then, she took a step back. “Tomorrow, we prepare for the arrival of the other tribe leaders. We should probably send our condolences to the dark elves, and offer any assistance they need. Considering they were so gracious as to help with my rescue.”
He nodded, a bit disappointed that she wouldn’t join him inside his room, but proud that she was beginning to sound like a true leader.
He couldn’t complain. At least he got a kiss. That would have to do. He remembered a time when he thought he’d never let a woman enter his heart.
Amalia changed everything in a single instant. Seeing her in the darkness of Father Marduk’s ship and their first touch altered him in a way he’d never return to the man he once was.
“Very well,” he said. “Heroki will take our message to Lordisburg.”
“Good. All will turn out fine. We just have to keep our heads on straight.”
Chuckling, he narrowed his eyes at her. “What a thing to say.”
She shrugged. “Its something my father used to say.”
Kylan’s smile faded. “I would have liked to have met him.”
“And, I would have liked to meet yours as well.”
He swallowed, wishing he could turn back time and bring him back. He would have adored Amalia and been proud to see his son finally find someone to love.
Love.
That word frightened him, but as he looked at Amalia, he wondered if that’s what he felt growing in his very soul.
“Well, good night,” she said, with a nod, and began to back away into the dim light of the empty corridor.
He took her by the hand, and kissed her knuckles. “Sleep well, Amalia.”
She gave him a smile that warmed his heart. It was special, and made her eyes twinkle as she looked up at him.
“You as well, Kylan.”
He watched her walk away, and closed his door.
Turning back toward his bed, he rubbed his temples as he struggled to find a way to keep the Fenrir king from interfering with their quest.
5
Amalia's cheeks burned red as she left
Kylan's room.
She breathed in a cleansing breath and ignored the nagging heat the filled her lower belly when she'd taken in his half-nude body. It wasn't as if she'd never seen it before, but the look in his eyes when he'd invited her to come into his room did something to her.
It stirred a dormant desire that she'd once felt for another, and never thought she’d allow herself to feel once more.
Shaking her head, she scolded herself for thinking of Aros yet again. She had to purge him from her mind and memory, but such a thing was proving impossible. He was too integral to the person she was today.
She had loved him once. Her first love, and she saw his influence on her life wherever she turned. He showed her kindness when she was at her most afraid. Running from the wild wolves when she was just a young teen had been frightening, and nearly being taken by the mermaids was even scarier. The beautiful, blond boy who saved her would forever hold a place in her heart.
As she headed back to the feast, Svein and Olaf followed her, while Tofi and Sinley guarded the entrances to the hall.
She looked up at each of them. They were thorough, and never left her side unless she went into her bedroom to sleep. Then, they took turns keeping guard outside her door.
"I just wanted to check on him," she said, explaining herself, and Svien smirked, but only nodded.
She could read it in his eyes. He didn't believe her. None of them did, and that only made her cheeks flush yet again when she realized what they were probably thinking. Sighing, she quickened her step and decided to go to her room instead of returning to the feast. She'd had her fill, and drinking would only make her weak and she'd chance visiting Kylan in the night once again.
She hurried to her door, ran inside, and slammed it shut as the quad stationed themselves outside.
Her maids were inside, resting on the truddle of her bed. They sprang to their feet, and gave her smiles that revealed they hadn't expected her back so quickly.
"Back so soon, your highness?" Jeszne asked, heading over to help her out of her clothes.
Amalia turned her back on her, and she undid the strings that pulled her apron tight over her dress.
"Its probably best that I get some rest," she said, not the least bit tired. The dark elves would be leaving during the night, no doubt. She paused.
"Wait," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "Tie me back up."
Jeszne did as she was told, without question.
Amalia left her room, and rolled her eyes as the quad followed her.
She needed to speak to Heroki before he and the dark elves headed home. She didn't want to risk missing them.
She left the warmth of the building, and winced at seeing snow falling from the sky.
Fat snowflakes landed on her nose and lashes, and she wished she'd grabbed a cloak on her way out.
"Here, your highness," Olaf said, taking off his cloak and draping it over her shoulders.
She swallowed, and looked up into his bright eyes. She nodded her thanks, and started into the darkness of the series of alleys and walkways that made up Wregard.
The dark elves were housed in a squat cottage that stretched nearly the entire length of the south wall.
After taking a breath in to center herself, she stepped inside the main archway and two dark elves met her just inside.
"What can we do for you, Erani heir?"
She looked past them. "I'd like to speak to Heroki," she said, and they exchanged a glance.
"About?"
She frowned. "That's between Heroki and I."
One of them shook his head. "You may rule those dragons out there, but you have no authority over us."
Baffled, she opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came forth.
"Let her pass," Heroki said, stepping into the light that came from the end of the corridor.
They stepped away, heads lowered, and let her pass.
She hurried down the corridor, not wanting to be there any longer than she had to.
He looked over once she reached him. "How can I help you?"
She licked her lips and sighed. "I wanted to catch you before you and your people left."
"For?"
"Eiko and I became friends in the short time we were imprisoned together. I wanted us to escape together, but it didn't happen the way I wanted it to," she explained, a wave of sadness washing over her. Her voice broke at her next sentence, but she pressed on. "There was a time when I thought I had lost everything. My parents, my home, my friends..."
She paused, and closed her eyes, wincing.
"My love."
When she opened her eyes, his face had softened.
"I know how you all must feel about the loss of King Matsuharu, and I want you all to know that you can always come to the dragons for aid. No matter what. We will be your allies. Against the wolves, and whoever else threatens you."
That brought a curious smile to his otherwise intimidating face. His eyes always frightened her, but on that night, there was kindness within them.
He gave her shoulder a squeeze and leaned down to her eyes level, which was several inches shorter than him.
"Thank you," he said. "We will remember your kindness, and bring your words to our new queen or king."
She returned the smile, through tears burned her eyes as she thought of all she'd lost and been through.
After a nod, she turned and headed back to her room.
Her quad all watched her, and she could feel their respect for her grow.
6
The gods had summoned him, and there was no turning back to the life he had before. Aros was a man with a mission.
A Wolf with a destiny.
Before the sun rose, Aros and his brothers, Helgi and Magnus left the city walls to venture out into the wilderness. Under the dark sky, they threw on their cloaks and headed for the canals. The scent of smoke clung to the cool air, and mist hovered around them as rain gathered in the clouds. It would be miserable travel, but the end result was worth it.
It was time to alert their king of the dangers to come, and the battle brewing right outside of their territory.
There would be no taking sides during this dark time. Wolves would have to unite with their former enemies, and make allies against the coming storm. He just hoped the king would heed his advice, lest they be doomed.
Across the red river and to Skal they’d go—with or without the aid of their sovereign.
Amalia needed him, more than she knew, and he would be there for her even if she believed he betrayed her.
On the contrary, he cared for her more than anyone outside of his family.
He loved her, and would do anything to make sure she was safe.
One day, she’d understand.
Until then, he’d continue to fight in the shadows, and follow the guidance of the gods. The weight of the world, and its fate, rested on his shoulders.
As they walked the slick, stone road outside of the walls, Aros paused, glancing over his shoulder. Magnus and Helgi followed suit, and they beheld a cloaked figure standing a few yards behind them.
The sky was still dark, with clouds tightly-knit and heavy with the coming rain. In the shadows and fog the figure stood in the center of the road, staring back at them.
Medium height, and thin, he couldn’t make out their face, but a wisp of bright golden hair flew free with the cool breeze.
Aros narrowed his eyes.
“Eostre?”
With a sigh, she stepped forward, lowering her hood to reveal wild, blonde hair and bright blue eyes.
Magnus and Helgi exchanged looks. “The harlot?”
She frowned. “Aye, lads,” she said. “What of it? I’m as much of a Wolf as the three of you sods.”
Aros scratched the back of his neck, cheeks filling with heat as he looked to his brothers. He was certain they believed he’d left his virginity back in Eostre’s room back at the pleasure house, but that was further from the truth than he was prepared to reveal.
His heart belonged to one other, and it was not the beautiful Wolf standing before he and his brothers. They’d kissed, and that was the end of it. How could he tell them he’d drank too much and fallen asleep in her bed only to be haunted by nightmares?
Eostre had been gracious enough to not chide him for his lack of virility during their evening together, and had wished him well.
But, now, she followed him, and he was unsure of why.
“What are you doing here, Eostre?” Aros asked.
She shrugged. “I’m coming with you. You said you’d take me away from that horrid place.”
“Did you now?” Helgi said, crossing his arms over his broad chest, an even broader grin resting on his lips.
Clearing his throat, Aros approached her. “We are not going somewhere safe for women,” he said.
She scoffed. “What do you think I am? Yes, I chose the trade of flesh, but are not all Wolf women trained in the art of battle? Are we not all shield maidens by birth?”
He straightened himself and peered down at her. He was right. Not one man, woman, or child went without training in any of the Wolf villages and kingdoms.
“Aye,” he said. “But, we are leaving Fjord.”
“And, going where?” Eostre asked, her hands on her hips. She wore a dark, gray cloak, a belted tunic, and carried a dagger at her hip.
He sighed. “Skal.”
Her eyes brightened. “By Eris’ blade, what an adventure.” She pushed past him and walked ahead. “Then, follow me. I know the way.”
Aros stared at her in disbelief. She had to know of the dangerous creatures and magic of Skal. She had to have heard the tales, yet, she charged ahead, ready for battle.
Magnus chuckled. “What are you waiting for? You heard the harlot.”
She shot him a glare over her shoulder. “Name’s Eostre,” she said, drawing the dagger at her hip quicker than the eye could see, and pointed it toward Magnus’ nose. “Any other name comes out of your fat mouth, and I’ll have your nose on a necklace.”
Magnus’ smile faded as he peered down at the blade. He nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.
