When We Were Dancing (The Wolf of Oberhame Book 2)

by Auryn Hadley

  The idiot had his hands pressed to his face, screaming, "You broke my nose!"

  "That's not all I'll break," Tristan snarled as he shoved the man outside. "Get back to your post." Then he calmly made his way back to the table, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "I swore to guard her body, her mind, and her honor. I will not tolerate any of you speaking about her like that. Am I clear?"

  "Yes, sir," Temotio said softly. The others nodded as the room began to relax.

  Except Gregori. "Bet her sheets are linen. Her Highness wouldn't spend money on something as frivolous as sheets." He pushed Tristan's cup closer as the Lion claimed his chair. "So you gonna tell us, yet? And who gets Matteo's place?"

  "Edwyn." He took a gulp while watching the young man sit up in shock.

  "Really? That means..."

  "Yeah, you're on the Heir's guard." Tristan turned to the next. "Horace, you're in. Pretty sure you don't always make a spectacle of opening the door."

  "No, sir," Horace assured him. "But wasn't sure you wanted to be surprised."

  Tristan chuckled. "Didn't. We were deciding who to pick."

  "This from the bottom up?" Gregori asked. His smile was still there, but it looked tense.

  Tristan ignored him and turned to the bland man who'd fought so hard even after losing his weapon. "Armando. Is being married going to cause any problems for traveling?"

  "No, sir. My wife understands. I was in the regular army for long enough that she's used to doing without me."

  "Then you're in." He lifted his mug again, trying hard not to smile when Gregori groaned.

  "Least I got dinner out of getting my ass kicked," the blonde mumbled.

  "And a new set of uniforms." Tipping his cup to the arrogant guy, Tristan grinned. "You're in. Was on the fence until your little comment about the sheets, but we need to fix your sword work."

  "I'll help," Temotio offered.

  "So sure you got in?" Tristan asked.

  The smile he returned was perfect - as good as anything Leyli could summon on command. "Yes, sir, I am."

  "Yeah, and you're going to be her shadow. If I'm not there, you will be. Long hours, lots of dresses and perfume, and if you do so much as breathe something that sounds degrading, I'll break your neck first, then kick you out of the guard."

  "Sounds fair." Temotio tried to keep his face serene, but the smile broke through. "Thank you, sir. I hope I can learn to dance."

  "Trust me, you will." Then he looked to the last two men at the table. "You both are being promoted to the throne room. In the event that I need to replace any of these idiots, you're next. Understand?"

  "Yes, sir," they replied in unison, looking a lot happier than they'd been a second before.

  "Yeah, and beer's on the Princess. Congratulations, men. Starting tomorrow, I'm going to pound your asses into the ground until you can learn to keep up. When I'm done with that, I'll have Ley repeat the process. You'll learn to fight with her, against her, and beside her."

  "Why?" Gregori asked. "I don't mean that to sound bad, sir, but aren't we supposed to do the fighting so she doesn't have to?"

  "Yeah, and if someone gets through you, trust me, I want her able to kill them." His eyes swept the group. "She can, too. That's how she ended up my partner. Little bitch was mean enough that I decided not to cut off her arm. Has nothing to do with what's between her legs."

  Gregori leaned close and dropped his voice. "Rumors say you're into men. You know that, right? The king know they aren't true?"

  "Haven't really talked about who I've fucked." He lifted a brow. "Does it matter?"

  From the other end of the table, Horace said, "Might, if Ilario decides we have to get our balls chopped off to enter her room."

  "Pretty sure Ley's more of a concern than her father." Then he looked back to the blonde. "And watch your mouth around her. Girl isn't stupid, and I'd rather not have to explain where she learned half this shit. If her father finds out, I'm blaming you."

  "Wait." Armando coughed down his beer in surprise. "She spent half a year as a gladiator and doesn't know... what?"

  "She knows how to kill men. She knows how to run an entire nation. So far as our Princess is concerned, things between the sheets are intended for children, and only for children. Understand? I worked hard to keep it that way."

  Temotio shoved his plate away, gesturing for the server to bring him another beer. "She's not that naive, sir."

  "And it's Tristan. The whole sir thing is just weird. Two weeks ago, I was a slave."

  "Now you're the Secor," Edwyn pointed out. "Kinda means we have to call you sir."

  Tristan bobbed his head, accepting that was nothing more than the truth. "Fine. Just mix it up so I know you're talking to me." Then he looked at Temotio. "Trust me, man, I know. It's also real hard to figure out which parts are her playing the Wolf, and which is the real Leyli. She was raised to be a delicate wife, but someone ruined all of that."

  "I was there." Temotio paused as the serving girl exchanged his empty mug for a full one. "The night the prince died, I mean."

  "Where?" Tristan nearly growled as the man's words peaked his interest.

  "Down the hall, coming off a shift on the south servant's entrance." He dropped his eyes to his beer. "Was going to cut over and head up to the next floor, but heard something. Know now that it was the maid screaming. Started running that way. Was in time to see someone running down the stairs before two men jumped me. Killed one, wounded the other."

  "And Kale? Leyli said they ran him through and killed him instantly."

  Temotio took a deep breath. "Ran him through, yeah." Then he lifted his eyes. "She'll never hear otherwise from me, either."

  "Fuck." Tristan rubbed at his brow. "How long?"

  "Took him about four hours to die. His Highness tried to take it like a man, but..." He shrugged.

  They all understood. Dying was never something to be proud of. It wasn't something that proved someone was brave. It was always a horror, and even the strongest would break, knowing their life had been cut short.

  Clearing his throat, Temotio looked down the table, then back. "Sir? I can't prove it, but I think the man I killed was a guardsman."

  Around they table, they all sat straighter. "Royal guard?" Tristan asked.

  Temotio shook his head. "Nobleman's guard, sir."

  "Palino," Horace breathed. "Always thought that bastard had something to do with it."

  The merchant's boy, Edwyn nodded. "Then I'm not the only one who noticed that he always makes a trip to the palace just before shit starts happening."

  "Nope," Armando grumbled. "The king hasn't said a thing, but rumor in the Royal Guard is that he's the only one with something to gain from the Prince's death. We just figured he'd be a lot more interested in marrying the Princess than killing her."

  "Cept she said no," Tristan told them, his eyes on Temotio. "So how'd you know these men?"

  "Pretty damned sure I recognized one's face from when my father took me to swear allegiance to the local Domn."

  "I'm a farmer's son," Tristan informed him. "Make this real simple for me."

  "The entire nation belongs to the king. That's broken into four sections, with a Domn over each. Those sections are broken into smaller groups. My father, the Boieret of Abindon, has lands in Lanmont. The man who killed the Prince of Norihame was a member of Palino Sarisona's personal entourage."

  "Will you swear to it?" And why hadn't the fool mentioned this before?

  Temotio just shook his head. "I can't, sir. I'm not positive, I just think he was the same man. Told His Majesty the same thing. I just thought you should know, before you question my devotion to the Aravatti crown, because you don't sound shocked to hear his name."

  "No, because Leyli saw the whole thing. She saw Palino's face." He slowly looked around the table, realizing he'd just said too much. "And this, men, is your first test as the Heir's Guard. Word of that gets around, and I'll kill the man who said it. If I can't figur
e it out..." He clenched his jaw. "I'll kill all of you."

  Around the table, heads nodded. None of them looked offended. Not at all. They looked like they'd be right beside him, helping. Evidently he'd found the ruthless gladiators he'd been hoping for.

  Chapter 9

  Temotio became Tristan's back-up. When the Lion wasn't able to be at her side, Temotio always was. Both of them took to carrying an extra short sword at their waist and a long dagger on their belt. The weapons would be within Leyli's reach if anything happened, and Tristan drilled her in their use. All too often, Temotio was her sparring partner.

  The rest of Leyli's time became a headache of records. As the heir, she needed to know the laws by heart. She also had to be well versed in court cases. Running a country meant hours of boredom, but she was good at it. It wasn't that different from being a proper lady, except she made notes instead of trim.

  Eventually, she managed to get Tristan on a horse. The grey mare was a lady's mount, but big enough to fit him. The first day, Leyli babied him. The second day she began to push him. By the fourth, she was making his life miserable.

  "Trot!" she yelled, standing in the grass, her skirts swishing at her feet. "Tristan, you have to brush your heel into her side."

  He did and the placid horse began moving faster, but the gait bounced horribly. Seeing the big, tough gladiator reduced to an arm flapping fool, Leyli couldn't stop her giggles. The harder he tried, the worse it got, until he began to tilt. Slowly, he drifted farther out until he could no longer keep his balance and slid off the horse, onto the ground, with a grunt. Leyli laughed harder.

  "Again!" she said, moving to catch the mare.

  He groaned. "Don't make me, master. I can't take any more."

  She stuck her tongue at him. "Get up, Lion, your steed awaits."

  Slowly he rolled over, moaning again, and found his feet. "If my hip is bruised, you'll have to kiss it, pup."

  She pointed at the saddle. "Up."

  He sighed, then shoved his foot in the stirrup, pulling himself onto the horse's back. "Just tell me you can swing a sword on one of these, because the only threat I'll be to an enemy is dead-weight crushing him."

  "Which is why we're here. Remember when I said I couldn't lift a sword one more time? What did you tell me?"

  "Again," he grumbled, finding his off-side stirrup. "Ok. So how do I stop bouncing?"

  She reached up and traced a line down his lower back. "Relax through here. Tight abs, loose back. Just like when a shieldman tries to push you off your feet. Brace, but be flexible. Above all, don't hold your breath."

  He nodded and turned the horse, moving her away. While the mare walked, he checked his position in the saddle, prepared himself, then asked for the trot. The horse started slowly, but each step got bigger. Tristan still bounced.

  "Breathe!" Leyli yelled. "Relax your back." He tried and things got better. Instead of his rump bouncing on the saddle, now it was just his arms flapping. "Elbows in!" she called out.

  For a moment he got it. Grinning from ear to ear, he turned to look at her and Leyli cheered, bouncing in place. She encouraged him, screaming, "Yes! That's it! Do it again! You got it!"

  Tristan started to chuckle and everything fell apart. His arms went out, his back got tense, and the distance between his rump and the horse grew with each step. Leyli tried to tell him how to fix it, but he was laughing too hard. When he hit the ground, the horse skittered away, but didn't stop his amusement.

  "What happened?" she asked, walking over to check him.

  He tilted his head to see her. "Yes, oh yes, that's it, right there." Then he surged toward her. She yelped, trying to duck away from his lunge, but a strong arm caught her waist, lifting her off her feet. Holding her back to his chest, Tristan growled playfully. "You're trying to kill me, pup."

  "No!" she squealed, kicking her feet. "I'm teaching you to ride."

  He set her down, but his fingers found her ribs, tickling her mercilessly. "You're teaching me to fall down!"

  "No! Tristan! Stop!" Leyli jumped and pulled but couldn't break free. "That tickles. No!"

  He grabbed her again, swinging her up like a child, his mouth by her ear. "Men don't ride on their back, pup, that's how we get ridden."

  She gasped, slapping at his arm. "Beast! That.... oh!"

  Her reaction only made him more amused and his grip slipped. Leyli broke free, running across the paddock. He gave her a few steps, then raced to catch up.

  "You can't get away that easy," he warned a breath before he caught her.

  Together they tumbled into the grass. Tristan began tickling her again and Leyli squealed. Just when he thought he had the advantage, she twisted, sliding her foot up, and pushed him away. Even in skirts, she could get to her feet quickly, and this time she grabbed them, lifting the material free of her ankles. The Lion was after her again.

  Leyli ducked, spinning around his body, and Tristan turned. Laughing loudly, the pair raced across the meadow, forgetting the horse and Tristan's lessons. Each time he caught her, he tickled her. A moment later, Leyli would break free. Finally, he pulled her down with him, grumbling about revenge, when a man's chuckle made the pair look up.

  Leyli's five guards, plus five more in white uniforms, all leaned on the fence. Walking toward them, with his hand over his mouth to stop the laugh, was her father. Ilario was trying hard to look stern - and failing.

  "I'm almost afraid to ask," he said, squatting down beside them. "Why are you abusing the Princess in public, Tristan?"

  He flopped back into the grass. "Because she's torturing me, Majesty. She calls it riding lessons. I call it falling lessons."

  "He almost had it," Leyli insisted, then Tristan laughed.

  He shook his head. "She started squealing like a bar maid. I couldn't help it."

  "And the grass stains on my daughter's dress?"

  "Mm," Tristan muttered. "Yeah, about that. See, I had to put her back in her place, you know. Wouldn't do to let a woman get above herself."

  The King roared a laugh, pushing himself back to his feet. "No, we couldn't have that," he agreed, offering his hand. "Also didn't look like you were winning."

  "I was until her dad showed up."

  The King slapped his shoulder, unable to stop grinning. "Leyli, get the mare. Tristan's going to try again. This time, with the guards watching." He lowered his voice. "Call it punishment for flirting with my daughter."

  "Dad!" Leyli hissed.

  Ilario looked at her innocently. "The mare, Leyli."

  With a huff, she tossed her hands up and headed for the horse. Behind her, the King and her Secor had their heads bent close. She caught the mare and turned back to see Ilario making a lewd gesture at his groin and Tristan nodding. She said nothing. A moment later, Tristan gestured, then looked up. Catching her eyes, he grinned.

  "I'm firing you, Ley," he called. "Unless you grow a pair of balls."

  "Not happening." She shrugged. "Trying to say they're in your way? Tighter pants. I'm sure the noblewomen wouldn't complain."

  He looked at Ilario, who shook his head. Tristan pointed to Leyli and the King sighed. Tristan looked smug.

  "Pup," he called, "Ilario says I have to get my balls out of the way, any ideas?"

  "My foot worked well enough last time. Oh wait, you didn't seem to like that."

  That made all the guards laugh, and Tristan sighed. Finally, her father took pity on the man. "Leyli, don't be cruel. A proper seat requires certain accommodations for a man."

  She lifted her brow and held out the reins. "Uh huh. Ten minutes. He hits the ground again and he's mine. I owe him for months of sword work."

  "You," Ilario warned Tristan, "have created a monster. She was quiet and amiable before you taught her how to bite."

  Tristan grinned. "Just trying to make noble life more exciting, Majesty. Rumor has it, all they know how to do is lay on their backs and sew."

  "There's a reason we have mistresses."

  "Dad!" Leyli ga
sped. "Do not help him!"

  The King looked between his daughter and her protector. "Do I want to know why she's not blushing?"

  "Uh." Tristan cleared his throat. "We had a discussion on euphemisms, and she made me explain a couple."

  "Which couple?"

  Tristan glanced at Leyli. "I'd rather not say."

  "He explained that eating someone means something different," Leyli told her dad.

  Ilario slowly nodded. "I see. And how did this come up?"

  "Well." Leyli brushed her skirts straight. "I believe I was picking on him for being attractive enough to have three girls try to get him to play Go. I said handsome, he disliked that word, so offered others, including, I think, delicious. I asked if he wanted someone to eat him, and his reaction wasn't what I expected."

  "Leyli," Ilario said, his voice tense as he pretended to be stern. "Would you go sit by the guards so I can show Tristan how to sit the trot?"

  She exhaled with a groan. "Sure."

  She made it three steps when the two men started laughing. Their heads were bent, and Tristan was gesturing dramatically. That only made them laugh again. Suddenly they both looked up, saw Leyli watching, and roared. She just sighed and dropped into the grass by the guards.

  "They're laughing at me," she said.

  Temotio moved closer, squatting beside her. "Oh yeah. What you don't understand is that they aren't appalled and they aren't dismissing you. They're amused. It's a man's way of trying not to be embarrassed."

  "Sucks to be a woman in a man's world." She plucked a blade of grass and sighed.

  He shifted his rump to the ground. "I can see that. You do pretty well with the Lion, though, right?"

  "Usually. He doesn't really treat me like a lady. He does, but he doesn't. It's hard to explain."

  "Yeah." He found a blade of grass to match hers. "Highness, it's hard for us. We've been taught to treat women a certain way, then the Secor orders me to wear an extra sword so you can take care of yourself. Goes against everything I know. I think your father's feeling the same."