In a Wolf's Eyes

by A. Katie Rose

  “Those words,” she whispered, taking another step toward me. “I’ve heard that voice, those words, in my dreams.”

  She took a second step. Then a third. She closed the distance, taking the hand I offered, her tiny fingers warm within mine. I said nothing, only waited until she stood before me, gazing up into my face. A small trace of fear lingered, but now her face filled with wonder and courage; an unconscious shake of her head sent some of the lank hair back away from her face.

  “Raine,” she said softly. “You’re Raine.”

  I took her gently into my arms, holding her tight. My voice caught on a sob I could not control. “I am, little cat. I am Raine.”

  The nickname from our childhood came unbidden, from within the depths of my soul, a recollection so distant it was almost the memory of a memory. A phantom teased the edges of my mind, a scene in which I called her “little cat” and heard her screech of rage. How she hated me calling her “little cat,” and how I called her by it just to irritate her.

  I reckoned she no longer hated it. Her slender arms wrapped themselves around my waist, like small timid animals finding comfort in the warmth and strength. I breathed in the scent of her, smelled the grease in her dirty hair, the odor of sweat and fear, and beneath all the sweet smell of her innocence. Her skin shifted over bones too close to the surface; my hands felt no flesh beneath the thin shift over her back.

  Realization dawned over my joy of having her in my arms. Arianne was not just slender. She was emaciated. Her ribs bulged under my fingers, her shoulders scrawny and bony, her breasts nonexistent. I knew then Adhas spent very little of her wealth in feeding her slave. Now I understood Tor’s fear. I held no delusion about how she had been treated in the years she had been with the merchant.

  I held her away from me and gently pushed the tangled mass from her brow. I could see her cheekbones pressing up through her pale, sallow skin, saw clearly the hollows of her cheeks. Yet her eyes, those magnificent eyes, held a sweetness, an innocence, a trust, I lost when I was nine years old.

  Adhas by now realized our intention was not robbery and rape, but the theft of her slave girl. I heard her stand up, her dressing gown rustling as she straightened it. I felt her gathering her courage, felt her anger rise, scented her fear fall away.

  “You know the penalty of stealing a slave,” she snarled from behind my back. “Death. I’m going to report this to the Watch and you’ll be hunted down. You will not escape with her. I will have her back and then you both shall pay.”

  I traced one finger down Arianne’s cheek, finally managing to create a small smile for her. She replied with a minute one of her own, her gaze unquestioning. Her fingers curled over my left hand.

  With my right, without looking at her, I seized Adhas by the throat. I lifted her struggling, choking, strangling body into the air before turning away from my sister to look into her agonized face. Adhas tried in vain to break my hold on her throat, panicked, wriggling frantically like a landed fish, gasping desperately for air.

  “My liege!”

  Cephas wrenched himself into my view, trying to put himself between Adhas and me. “I beg you, nay.” His immense hands on my shoulders pushed me roughly, his elbows dug deep into my arms. Yet, his attempts to break my grip shifted me not an inch.

  I glanced at his stricken expression as he dropped that tactic and seized my tunic. “Nay, sire, despite all, Adhas is innocent,” he said. “Cruel she may be, but she has done no lasting harm. I know you. Your honor will not permit the blood of an innocent on your hands. If you murder her, there will forever be a pall over everything you do.

  “The men you have slain were never murder, but self-defense. Do not stain your honor now, right now, when all you have desired is now at your fingertips.”

  “I have no honor.” I scowled at Cephas, seeing him flinch away from me for the very first time in all the years I’d known him. “Honor is for morons.”

  I opened my fist. Adhas fell to the floor, gasping for life-giving breath, her hands covering her rapidly bruising throat. Gently shaking loose of Arianne’s timid hand, I once more seized Adhas by her neck, but this time not in a strangling grip. I pinned her to the wall with one hand, gazing deep into her terror-filled eyes.

  “You can afford another slave,” I said, low, the growl returning. This time I did not try to modulate it.

  I took her metal hanap in my free hand, holding it before her eyes. I turned it this way and that, letting the candlelight flick off the gems like colored lightning. I kept my voice soft, the growl resonating through the room. “Go. Buy another slave at the market. You can afford it. Buy yourself a slave who will serve your needs. But remember one thing.”

  I lifted the chalice higher, toward her face, the jewels reflecting their rainbow onto her skin. Her brown teary eyes shifted from my face to the cup, back again, round, and round again. A faint whimper escaped her lips, perhaps a plea half-spoken, a plea for mercy in the face of none.

  “Should you decide to starve, or harm, or abuse this slave,” I went on, softly, “remember this small, this one tiny piece of advice. Remember that your slave may be someone’s relative. That relative might be…important.”

  I held the cup before her eyes. Her liquid brown gaze followed the cup, gazing raptly into its metal sheen and the glinting gems as though looking into an oracle.

  “That relative might be…dangerous.”

  I crushed the metal hanap in a quick, tight movement of my hand, feeling the cool wine gush over my fingers. I displayed the crushed remnants before her, dangling it by what was left of its stem. Her huge eyes grew bigger, reflecting back the glowing silver in their dark depths.

  A half-heartbeat later, Adhas’s brown eyes rolled back into her head as she collapsed, weightless, in a complete faint. I let her go, feeling slightly ashamed of myself, her dead weight sliding into a boneless heap on the floor. I wiped wine from my hand, seeing Cephas grin.

  “You are a very bad man, my liege,” he said, a chuckle escaping his lips. “A very bad man.”

  I quirked a brow. “Think she might think twice before abusing her next slave?”

  “I’d be surprised if she ever bought a slave again,” he replied. “I think you terrorized her properly.”

  “Least of what she deserves.”

  I turned back to Arianne, concerned I might have frightened her as well. Instead of showing fear, she gazed down as Adhas’s limp form with a kind of triumph. She looked up to see me watching her, and ducked her head, now shy.

  “She was—not kind.”

  “Fetch some decent clothes, sweetling,” I said, cupping her chin. “And your belongings.”

  “I have none,” she murmured, smoothing her scanty shift. “This is all I have.”

  I could not help but growl low in my throat. I forced myself to cease, thinking this time I would frighten her. Rather, she watched me with a curious, interested stare.

  “You sound like a wolf.”

  “He is a wolf, lassie,” Cephas said, smirking.

  I sent him an exasperated scowl, which made him only grin more broadly. “Take your clever mouth and find her some decent clothes. Check that chest.”

  “What is his name?” Arianne asked with an almost childlike innocence, her eyes on Cephas as he threw open a cedar chest at the foot of the huge bed and began to rummage through it.

  “That’s Cephas. He used to be my Slave Master. Don’t mind him, though, he’s always cranky.”

  “Actually, it’s Corwyn,” Cephas said absently, digging through the chest and tossing garments over his shoulder.

  I stared. “That’s a name from—”

  “Connacht.”

  His eyes twinkled at me from under the red-silver brows. “Aye. I be Connachti born. I be the second son of the Earl of Iomaire.”

  “I’ll be damned.”

  “Let’s hope not. I think these gowns may fit Her Highness.”

  Cephas, nay, Corwyn held out a midnight-blue gown laced with s
ilver and sewn with tiny beads of white and gold. Arianne did not take the gown, but stared at him with a slight smile, a faint frown furrowing her pale brow.

  “My Highness?” she asked timidly.

  “Aye, Your Highness.” Corwyn bowed to her in a smooth fluid motion, his grin surfacing once more. “After all you are my liege’s royal sister. You are Her Royal Highness, Princess Arianne Barjlek, naught but the true-born daughter of King Camlach of Connacht himself.”

  “A princess,” she breathed, staring blankly into nothing, as though trying to fathom what that meant. This morning she woke up to slavery, by dark she had family and discovered she was royal. I grinned at her transformation.

  “I am a princess.”

  “You are indeed, little cat.”

  “I want to kick her,” Arianne suddenly snarled, her expression tight with anger.

  I noted with interest how her glorious eyes darkened to a steely blue in her fury. Just as my father’s eyes had during his rare but potent rages. She stood over Adhas’s still-unconscious form, her fists clenched, her breath coming hard. I caught Corwyn’s eye and flicked a faint hand signal: wait. He understood, and stood with me for several moments as we watched to see what she would do.

  At length, she sighed and turned back to me. “But that would be beneath me,” she said simply.

  Corwyn surprised me by dropping to his knee before her. She eyed him warily as he took her tiny hand into his gnarled one and kissed it.

  “You are a true Barjlek and a credit to your royal heritage, Your Highness,” he murmured.

  Her smile was like the sun rising, clear, bright and strong. She saw from my face my pride in her, and came to me for another embrace. As though she could not get enough hugs.

  Once more Corwyn held out the gown to her, and she took it, smoothing her hand over its softness. “I’ve always loved this gown,” she murmured. “I would hold it when she was not looking, just to feel it.”

  “Then it’s proper you should wear it,” I said. “You certainly have earned it, from your labors under her.”

  Arianne suddenly grinned wickedly up at me. “And a sweet spot of revenge.”

  I laughed.

  Corwyn shook his shaggy red and gray mane. “She’s your sister, right enough.”

  “Go on, little cat, put it on.”

  Had I known she held as much modesty as mare in a field, or a bitch in the street, I might not have spoken so blithely. Her obedience was instant, dropping the tattered shift she wore, and standing before us as naked as the day she was born. I choked a gasp of shock before it could erupt and alarm her, and turned my back immediately. Corwyn, stunned momentarily by her lack of modesty, stared for a few heartbeats longer. I growled low in my throat, and he hastily turned his back too, leaving her to some semblance of privacy.

  “Well, it appears she requires a bit of teaching, eh, my liege?” he muttered out of the side of his mouth.

  I strangled my laughter before it could explode, but unable to stop the snorting noise that effort made. I heard the rustle of clothing cease as Arianne stared at my back.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Nay, just clearing my throat.”

  The rustling resumed. Corwyn leaned close to my ear.

  “Dare I say Lord Rygel should see her,” he murmured. “He is a healer, is he not? I saw some…wounds.”

  I nodded. “At the earliest opportunity.”

  Deeming it safe to turn around, I did so, and found her looking down at herself and fingering the gown in awe. Given that Arianne stood almost half the size of the sturdy Adhas, she all but drowned in the outfit. Casting about the room, I found a few pins. “Corwyn, did you see any boots and undergarments in that chest?”

  “I did, my liege.”

  My hands, big and clumsy, worked a poor job of pinning the gown, but at least she would not step on the hem. Corwyn’s hand delved back inside the chest, emerging with a pair of supple doeskin boots and some lacy white underthings. Arianne put them on without revealing too much, but Corwyn averted his head politely. He knelt at her feet, and, acting as her body servant, gently introduced the boots to her bare feet. Arianne blushed at the attention, peeping up at me under the thick fall of her night-black hair.

  I took up the other gowns he thought might fit her, and turned as a thudding on the stairs warned of the rapid approach of booted feet. Corwyn rose and drew his blade in a single fluid move, with the ease of a much younger man. I merely waited until Rygel burst through the doorway, amber eyes wild, his wheaten locks blown into disarray.

  “My prince,” he gasped. “We need to get out of here, like—”

  Arianne did not move or hide as I thought she might with the approach of an armed stranger. She stood her ground and watched Rygel with wide eyes, her hands folded neatly before her. Despite the wild tangles in her hair, and the dirt on her face and hands, Arianne looked undeniably royal. Like a queen in exile.

  “—yesterday.” Rygel’s voice trailed off into near silence, his body frozen in mid-stride, his jaw hanging open in almost comical amazement. He stared at her with a kind of hungry intensity, much as I had just a few moments before. I looked at my sister and saw her staring back at Rygel, a strange light in her eyes. In them, I saw the same thirst, the same unabashed intensity. Two strangers, sharing a deep connection that left Corwyn and me far behind, far away in another time, in another place.

  They looked at one another as though they’d hungered for the looking since time began.

  “Thunderbolt,” Corwyn muttered from behind my left shoulder. “The thunderbolt of the gods.”

  I turned my head to eye him quizzically. What was it I said to Rygel in the inn? Love will strike like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky.

  Corwyn grimaced and clapped me on the shoulder.

  “My liege, you’re in deep trouble now.”

  “Tell me about it,” I muttered.

  I cleared my throat, but the sound had no effect on either one of them. Corwyn grimaced again, and took from me the clothes I still held, but had forgotten about. He shoved them into a satchel, along with a second pair of boots. He also whisked the trinkets off the table, sending me a mischievous glance.

  I cleared my throat again, but once more, neither of them turned to look at me. Each of them stood frozen in a tableau of keen silence, eyes for only each other.

  “Rygel.” I barked.

  “Huh?”

  He tore his eyes from Arianne and looked at me finally. At the same moment, Adhas began to stir on the floor, moaning sounds coming from her slack lips. That broke the spell for Arianne. She shied back, much as a horse might in scenting a strange odor, eyeing the body on the floor warily.

  “Rygel, this is my sister, Arianne—”

  In a flash, Rygel knelt at her feet, gazing up at her, an almost theatrical adoration in his eyes. Arianne blushed again, allowing him to take her hand and kiss it. His demeanor held very little of the courtier, but instead contained all the sensual actions of a lover. I swallowed a groan.

  “What were you in such a rush about?” I asked.

  Rygel leaped to his feet, his right hand swiftly hidden, but not so swiftly that he succeeded in concealing he still held Arianne’s hand.

  “I think Ja’Teel is nearby,” he said. “If they don’t know we’re here, they will soon. We need to ride and now.”

  “See if Adhas has a horse for Arianne.”

  Rygel nodded and turned to obey, then hesitated, looking once more at Arianne with a hungering, feverish intensity. I bowed my head, praying for patience to the gods of my homeland.

  “Would now be a good time for you?” I inquired. “If not, let me know when you’ll have time.”

  This time he blushed. “Right.”

  He thundered down the stairs at a gallop. Arianne stared after him, her eyes wide and blue, her blush still riding high on her cheeks. I glanced at Corwyn.

  “I assume you have a horse?”

  “Aye, my liege. Ready and wa
iting.”

  Adhas lifted her head groggily and looked up at me. Panic filled her brown eyes as she saw me watching her.

  “Then get it and let us put this place at our backs.”

  “My liege.”

  Corwyn followed on Rygel’s heels, still carrying the satchel of clothing stolen from Adhas. I took Arianne’s hand and drew her to me, still staring coldly down at the fish oil merchant. I let her see Arianne, dressed in Adhas’s blue gown, allowing her a good long look at the familial resemblance between us.

  “Remember.”

  On that quiet word, I turned on my heel and strode from the room, taking my sister with me.

  Ly’Tana and Kel’Ratan stood watch over the horses, their backs to me. Closest, Ly’Tana held Rufus’s reins in her fist, her own buckskin standing quiet, his nose at her shoulder. Their alert and ready stance told me Rygel had already informed them of Ja’Teel, and most probably, Brutal’s presence nearby. Walking between the two stallions, Arianne in tow, I touched Ly’Tana’s neck.

  She jumped as though I had stabbed her, her hand whipping her sword from its sheath at the same moment she spun, ready for battle. The horses shied uneasily, taking a step to the side. She blinked.

  “Damn and blast you,” she nearly shrieked. “What? Don’t you push air in front of you when you move? Give a little warning next time, you’re going to give me a heart seizure.”

  I couldn’t help my smile, though I managed, with effort, to not actually chuckle. ’Twas a close finish, though. “Sorry.”

  “Didn’t you find her?” she went on, raking her fingers from her hair before sheathing her blade. “What kept you? And what bit him? Rygel. He blew through here, like—”