by Victoria Zak
Chapter Three
1301 England
Castle Questing
“And who’s afraid of the Blaidd Drwg now?” The cold steel of a blade pressed into Thomas’s chest as his adopted sister stood over him with her hand gripping the hilt.
“Finally I bested the mighty de Wolfe knight,” she boasted with confidence.
Thomas never knew when he’d be plagued by those haunting flashbacks. Sometimes they hid for months, locked away, other times he couldn’t shake the images fast enough, such as today during his sword training exercise with JewelAna, when they hovered like a warning he could not interpret. She had assaulted him, striking quickly, and before he knew it, he was lying flat on his arse with the pointy end of a sword pricking his chest. And to add to the humiliation, he’d been bested by a girl—his sister to boot.
It had been many long, dark years since Sir Thomas de Wolfe left the Holy Land. He shook his head violently to free himself from the ominous images assaulting him—as vivid and disturbing as the first time he had seen them years before in the bizarre cave where the white-haired man reigned. He had been safely back on English soil for a long, long time, but the nightmare discovery of the wolf inside him had become no less disquieting. Sometimes—like now—the first meeting with his feral soul came back to him so vividly it blinded him to all else.
Who was he jesting? JewelAna was not his kin by blood, but by sacred oath. Eighteen years ago his father William de Wolfe had promised to protect the girl’s identity, in the hope that no one would find out a pure blooded Welsh princess had survived the birth which had killed Tacey de Shera, for if the child’s true identity was whispered among the people and fell upon the wrong ears, it could very well be the end of the girl, and quite possibly even Wales.
Fate works in mysterious ways, and the king of England, Edward I, was led to believe the babe had died along with her mother. As soon as the child was born, William de Wolfe and his wife Jordan, had taken her back to Castle Questing and raised her as their own.
Sad days fell upon Wales after JewelAna’s mother, Tacey de Shera's, death. Everyone had believed that she carried a son, the Prince of Wales, and that he would grow to be a fierce leader, defending their land from the English. Had they only known about JewelAna, she would have surprised them all.
Thomas, however, had made his own oath to Tacey. On her deathbed, he vowed on his life to keep JewelAna safe, regardless of the circumstances. Little did he know back then, that he would fall in love with her. He pricked his ears up as the sound of furious growling returned. Be vigilant, de Wolfe. Be wary. The warning again. He smelled the air, seeking a hint of the odor of an enemy, but there was nothing. Yet, the whine on the breeze called. Not yet. He turned back to his sister. In true de Wolfe fashion, his honor ran soul deep and he took that oath seriously. So, regardless of his feelings, he would keep from JewelAna and the rest of the world the secret that she was of Welsh blood. From the outside looking in, the girl was a de Wolfe and she would remain one, if Thomas had any say in the matter.
He tried to shake away the sense of foreboding he sniffed in the air and to focus on the here and now. Thomas didn’t like to be bested by anyone, let alone a female; it stung his pride. JewelAna was going to suffer the consequences of her actions. In one fluid motion, he pushed the sword away, sat up and grabbed her behind the knees, sending her to the ground. Before she crashed, he wrapped his arms snugly around her waist to help break her fall.
He pressed his muscled body against hers to prove dominance, to let her know he was always in control. “Dear sister, first mistake, never take your eyes off the wolf.”
JewelAna squirmed against his hold. “’Tis not fair. You tricked me.”
“I did not. You let your guard down.”
“And you took advantage of me,” JewelAna huffed.
“That’s right,” Thomas bit back. “Do you think the enemy would treat you any differently?”
“Nay, I suppose you’re right.” Disappointment shone in her deep blue eyes and ripped straight to Thomas’s heart as they locked gazes.
He was treading on dangerous ground; she tempted his resolve. He knew better than to put them in this intimate situation. He knew better than to look into her desire-filled eyes. Holding her stare, he lowered his head, inches away from her full pink lips. He knew better than to give in to his longing to taste her.
JewelAna raised her head when Thomas paused short of reaching her mouth. “Thomas,” she whispered.
He closed his eyes, fighting back the temptation to claim her seductive mouth. He shook his head, disgusted with his behavior. “Jewel, ’tis wrong. You’re my sister.”
Blue eyes pinned him hard and he felt her exhale beneath him. “Thomas, you know I can feel it. I’m not—”
“You are as much blood as I am. Heed my words; we can never be more than what we are now.”
“But, Thomas, I know—”
“You know nothing.” Yet, he was aware of exactly what she was trying to say. Such thinking would only lead them into dangerous territory. “JewelAna, do not think about what can never be.” Gently, he brushed a stray strand of blonde hair from her cheek. God’s bones, the lady’s fair and stunningly beautiful.
A shrill whistle coming from outside the great hall echoed across the inner bailey. Thomas looked up to see his father, standing at his solar window, calling for him. Promptly, he stood and extended a hand to JewelAna, assisting her to her feet.
“And don’t call me bad wolf. You know how I hate it,” he teased.
That was far from the truth. When she called him bad wolf—Blaidd Dwrg in her native tongue, a primal urge unfurled deep inside him and threatened to surface. There was nothing more he wished than to be her big bad wolf.
“I promise, as long as we finish our battle after your meeting with Papa.” She grinned.
“I promise.”
With that Thomas strode with heavy footsteps to the great hall. He knew better than to keep the old man waiting.
Over the eighteen years he had cared for JewelAna, time had worn on Sir William de Wolfe, weakening his strength as a once battle-driven English knight. Long gone were his days of slaying the enemy on the battlefield. But he should not be underestimated—as a de Wolfe, the man’s wits and cunning nature had stood the test of time. His mind was sharp and his strategies were always wise and helped protect his family. Nothing was of greater consequence than that, not even love for his country or loyalty to the crown. Family came first, no matter the cost. Virtues like these were what legends were made of, and his legend lived on through his children. Thomas took this very seriously.
As he entered the great hall, the heavy door moaned shut, and he made his way up the stairs and down a long corridor to his father’s solar. The door was ajar and Thomas walked in, eyeing a tall, gray-haired man sitting in front of the hearth drinking wine. A line foretelling trouble creased his father’s forehead as he asked his son to sit. “Son, I have important news we need to discuss.”
Thomas’s stomach flopped. Important news could only mean one thing; war. Lowering his body down in a chair next to his father, Thomas hung on every word the man was about to say.
“I have had to make a most difficult decision. One I’m not proud of.” William took a long pull of his wine.
Thomas sat silently, containing the urge to shake the information out of William. He was a straightforward man, no skirting around the issue; he preferred the cold hard truth.
“Our deepest fears have come true. JewelAna’s identity is no longer a secret. The Wend Drakis know she’s here and they want what is rightfully theirs—the Princess of Wales.”
Taken aback, Thomas scrubbed a hand down his face. “How can this be? How did her identity leave these castle walls? We shall see whoever is guilty of such treason hang.” Thinking there might be a Judas among them made his wolf growl from deep inside.
“Son, there is no traitor among us. Fáfnir Wend Draki, House of Dragon, has come to claim what is
rightfully his. To my great surprise, her uncle, Bhrodi de Shera pledged a pure-blooded Welsh heir to the dragon’s house years ago, in return, the Wend Drakis provided de Shera with protection from the English.”
“How could this be? Knowing how much Tacey meant to Bhrodi, why would he do this?”
“He had no choice, Thomas. Anglesey needed protection against King Edward. Bhrodi had no idea Tacey would give birth to a girl.”
A grimness crept over Thomas’s masculine face. His eyes darkened and he pressed his lips tightly together as he tried to fight back the memory of that dreadful day, which threatened to reappear. It wasn’t often he revisited that past but in times like these there was no escaping it.
The haunting memory was relentless and Thomas thoughts, his very memory slipped back into time.
The agonizing cries had stopped and silence filled the room as he took the stairs slowly, one at a time, making his way to Tacey’s bedchamber. He paused in mid-step, listening intently for her voice…he had to hear her voice. But there was nothing; no cries, no heavy breathing, and no baby wailing to be fed. The eerie silence chilled him to the bone. His throat went dry and his palms began to sweat.
Suddenly, as if from nowhere, the surgeon appeared, hunched over, looking neither to right nor left. Thomas called out to the man, but he only ran faster, disappearing down a corridor without a word or a glance.
Thomas tried to shake off the dreadful feeling nagging deep inside his gut and pressed on up the stairs. Reaching the corridor, he picked up the pace and rounded the corner that led to Tacey de Shera’s door. Thomas could not bear the silence.
Not wasting another second, he thundered toward the chamber like the devil was chasing him. The corridor seemed to stretch longer and longer, as if he was running down an endless tunnel, never reaching his final destination. “Please God, I beg of you. Tacey has to fare well.”
Finally, he made it to the bedchamber. As he was about to break down the door a cry stopped him abruptly at the sound of a baby’s cry. But why didn’t he hear Tacey’s voice?
Slowly, Thomas entered the room to find Tacey lying still on the bed with a naked, crying babe beside her.
“Tacey,” Thomas whispered.
He feared the worst when she did not respond and noticed she wasn’t holding her babe.
“Tacey, your babe is cold and needs its mother. What ails you?” Thomas quickly grabbed a blanket folded over the back of a chair. Looking only at the babe, for he couldn’t bear the reality that lay in front of him, he picked the crying child up. As he wrapped the babe in the blanket, a tear rolled down his cheek. “Tacey, you have a daughter.” Thomas held the crying babe to his chest. “Shhh, little lamb. You are safe.” He bounced the bundle ever so gently and she drifted off to sleep.
A brief moment of joy exploded when the gut-wrenching pain in his stomach returned. Tacey hadn’t said a word. It was time he faced his fears.
He peered down at the bed where she lay. A white sheet soaked in blood covered her body. Where was the surgeon and why had he left her in this state? Why wasn’t he here now?
Just then William de Wolfe entered the bedchamber and Thomas heard him gasp. He clasped his on the shoulder. “Son, I’m so very sorry.”
Thomas stood staring down at her. He could not tear his eyes away. He wanted to take her in his arms and carry her away from here. He wished he had been here to take away her pain.
Thankful for his father’s timing, Thomas handed the babe to him, because he was barely holding on to what little remained of his sanity.
“I’ll be right outside the door if you should need me.” William said and quit the room.
He knelt among the sweaty bedclothes and took her hand in his. It was so cold, so tiny. His head was spinning, his heart pounding against his ribcage. She was only thirteen and had a full life ahead of her…a life he wanted to spend with her.
He sat down next to her on the bed and reluctantly removed the sheet from her face. “Dear God,” he gasped. “My sweet Tacey.” Tears streamed down his face, his breath hitched in his lungs, and every fiber within him unleashed an anger that Thomas had never felt before. He took Tacey in his arms and held her tightly. “ I swear on de Wolfe’s honor , Tacey de Shera, I will not allow your death to be forgotten.” He kissed the top of her head. “I will protect your daughter with my life and you’ll continue to live inside of her.” He rocked back and forth, holding his love. “I will never forget you, Tacey.”
Thomas swiped away a tear as he cleared his mind of the past. “What are we going to do? Surely we aren’t going to abide by this farcical agreement?” At least not without a fight, he told himself.
“My hands are tied. I cannot risk war, son.”
“JewelAna is your daughter, you cannot tell me you are going to allow those beasts to slither away with her. What about your vow to Tacey?” Thomas seethed.
“Thomas, if we do not allow them their due, as promised, war will be upon us. Bhrodi will have no choice but to side with the Wend Drakis. If he goes back on his word, his honor would be tarnished and Anglesey would be left weak without Fáfnir’s protection. And most importantly, I will not go to war with your sister.”
Thomas stood and began to pace his frustrations out in front of the hearth, as a cold dose of reality chilled him to the bone. Penelope, the youngest de Wolfe, was married to Bhrodi de Shera, and she stood firm by her husband’s side. Nay, his father would not risk war, especially against his own daughter. Fury grew and intensified as Thomas felt defeated. Now, at last, he understood the forewarning, the re-awakening of the beast inside him.
“JewelAna is your daughter too. Isn’t she worth fighting for?”
William was taken aback by his son’s accusation and pinned him sternly with his eyes. “Thomas, that is unfair. You know as well as everyone here at Castle Questing that I love that young lady as much as my own flesh and blood.”
Angrily, Thomas strode toward him. “Then we must fight to keep her here, safe with us!” His voice thundered through the room. He’d better heed his actions, for he was bordering on disrespect.
The side of William’s mouth lifted in a snarl. “Enough!” he growled.
Thomas took a step back, renouncing his dominant stance.
A long pause filled the room. Thomas had one question left and he honestly feared the worst. “You said the Wend Drakis want to claim what is rightfully theirs. What does this mean?”
William hung his head of graying hair. “Our JewelAna is pledged to Fáfnir. They will be wed, Thomas.”
The younger man’s heart sank. He had known this day would come eventually, when she would be courted and wed, but to a dragon? No, this was madness.
William cleared his throat. “There is something that I need of you.”
“Please, Father,” Thomas shook his head in defiance, “do not ask me.”
William pressed on, ignoring his son’s request. “I need you to escort JewelAna to Pendraeth. You leave on the morrow,” he said with much remorse.
Thomas slowly moved to face his father. Did his father know what he was actually asking of him? Did he not understand that this journey would ruin him? Thomas held his father’s steel gray stare without words, praying that by some chance his father would rethink his decision. When William refused, Thomas quit the solar, slamming the door behind him.
With long, heavy strides, he advanced down the corridor, furious with his father. He couldn’t believe the once brave knight would surrender, lie down like some submissive dog to the Wend Drakis. Did his word mean nothing anymore?
A soft tap on his shoulder made him turn around hastily.
With quickened steps JewelAna had scampered behind him, gaining his attention. “Are you ready to be defeated again?” She giggled.
“Not now, Jewel.” He shrugged her off and continued down the corridor.
“But you promised.”
In one fluid motion, Thomas turned back and advanced on her. Startled by the sudden change in his moo
d, she took a few steps back.
“I know what I promised,” he bit back. “But not now.” He stalked her until her back hit the stone wall behind her, pinning her with a brooding glare. He looked into her blue eyes filled with fear. How was he going to give her up to the beast? Tacey would never forgive him, and if he didn’t abide by his promise, he would dishonor his family’s name.
“Thomas, you’re scaring me.” Wide-eyed, she held his stare.
His anger took over and he pressed his body against hers, encaging her with pure male dominance. He knew the effect he had on her and he cursed himself for a fool. He was aware he should never allow them to be this close. His duty was to keep the family secret, to make everyone believe she was his sister.
