Prince Wolf

by A. Katie Rose

  I met Arianne’s astonished gaze with a shrug. “Easy once you know how.”

  She giggled. Tuatha reminded me of his presence by stirring and whining faintly. Translating his sounds that his bladder was about to burst, I set him on the ground. Black nose to the ground, he waddled a distance away.

  Leaving him to his privacy, I turned once more to Arianne. “It’s time you learned to be a princess,” I said, smoothing her midnight hair from her brow.

  “I – I don’t know how,” she stammered, her blue-grey eyes clouded with worry.

  “I’ll teach you, sweetling,” I said. “I know it comes hard, but you must allow yourself to be waited upon.”

  I couldn’t have timed my words more perfectly. The instant they left my lips, Tor knelt with a warm trencher of roasted meat, complete with gravy, white cheese, and nuts. Rannon, a fraction behind him, also knelt to offer the shiny hanaps of cold, clear water to both of us.

  “See?” I said, accepting the offerings and handing Arianne her share. “Just relax and let what comes naturally come, er, naturally.”

  “But,” she began, anxiously. "It’s not natural to me. I’m born to serve, not be served.”

  I took her chin in my fingers, forcing her to look deep into my eyes. “I know,” I said softly. “But our survival depends on your innate ability to command others. If you act the slave, we’ll die. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, trying to pull away from me, tears swimming in her glorious, miserable eyes.

  “Arianne.” I pulled her close, into a tight embrace. With her head against my breasts and my chin buried in her hair, I spoke again, my tone, my voice even quieter.

  “Rulers do serve,” I murmured. “They serve their people. You may be of the blood royal, but that’s a fart in a hurricane if you don’t protect and serve those under your stewardship. They’ll count on you in ways you, right now, have no comprehension exist. They need you to be strong, to be courageous, to be a leader. Not only to they want it, they crave your leadership as they crave food. As they crave drink with which they slake their thirst. They want only your guidance, your protection, your ability to lead them.”

  I rocked her, moving back and forth, slowly, gently.

  “You think of yourself as a slave,” I went on. “And so you are. As am I. Slaves to the needs of our people.”

  I pushed her away from me for a moment, my fingers running through her glossy midnight tresses. Solemn eyes, desperate eyes, huge in a pale tiny face watched me with hope, confusion and a strange, awful eagerness. As though I had spoken the words of her heart.

  “They call us ‘Your Highness’. Or ‘Your Majesty’. We may even appear majestic and high, to them. We are but servants. Even though they offer up for us food, with wine, offer up their very lives, we, in truth, serve them far more. Ours is the responsibility to feed, to clothe, to repay their loyalty with devotion in far greater quantity. Do you understand?”

  Arianne’s huge, grey-blue eyes left mine and wandered about the now busy camp. “I think so,” she murmured.

  Glancing back into my face, her smile shone brighter than the rising sun.

  “I must be here, for them,” she answered. “Even if it means sacrificing my own life.”

  I hugged her tight, tears stinging my eyes. “Clever girl,” I murmured against her hair. “Being royal doesn’t mean one must act royal. Your blood is red, the red of common men. Not purple as some would think. My father taught me this. Lead by example and men of every nation will flock to your banner. Let justice be your watchword. Give to them and you shall receive a thousand fold in return. Reward their loyalty with dedication. Repay their lives with honor. Reward disloyalty and treachery with vengeance and death.”

  “With courage in your fists and honor in your heart, you will be a true leader indeed.”

  “Like you?”

  Her words spoken softly and with little emphasis hit me as hard as a hammer to my chest. My breath caught in my throat. Was I all that? Of course not. I spoke words of poetry, but within me lay a bundle of jagged nerves and emotion. I loved a wolf, for Lady’s sake. How was that for stupidity?

  I hugged her tighter, my eyes on the bountiful, dancing fire. “I wish,” I said. “I wish indeed.”

  Wiping newly frozen tears from my cheeks, I straightened and pushed her gently from me. “Eat now, before it gets cold.”

  Did I just say lead by example? When Arianne picked up her bread trencher, she hesitated, glancing toward me with a faint hint of worry puckering her brow. Ice replaced what little appetite I might have had, as the dark dream and its nasty offspring unease had taken up residence in my gut. Forcing a smile, I took up my own rapidly cooling meat and bread and bit into it. I chewed, swallowed, and felt it strike deep with all the force of a granite rock. Arianne ate with far more gusto than she usually showed and actually managed to eat half her trencher. I didn’t even manage that much.

  Offering the remainder to the hopeful wolves who returned from their forays into the forest, I picked up Tuatha’s food bag to fill it. Huddled once more under my warm blanket, I sat back down. Tuatha crawled sluggishly into my lap. Before I fed him, I picked him up and gazed deep into his sapphire eyes.

  “Tuatha,” I said quietly, but firmly. “You mustn’t growl and snarl and snap at everyone who comes near.”

  He whined, a pathetic, heartfelt cry. I hugged him close, tears once more icing my cheeks.

  “I know, baby, I know,” I said. “I miss him, too. We all miss your papa. But that’s no excuse for bad behavior. We all must be strong, all of us, until we find him again. You must be strong, too.”

  Tuatha growled, a faint vibration against my chest and a faint rumbling from his tiny throat.

  “That’s not a good attitude, young wolf,” I admonished. “Do you think your papa would approve of that?”

  This time his growl held a strong whine, an angry, yet sorrowful cry of one who felt lost and utterly alone. I could certainly empathize with the grief-stricken baby, for I myself felt the same.

  “Come, now,” I said, more brightly. I spoke far more brightly than I felt, anyway. I held him up again, to look into his miserable face. “Let us not always grieve. We will find him soon, I promise. I don’t know when, but with Kip and Shadow and Silverruff all tracking him, we will find him. We just need to solve a few problems first.”

  When I mentioned Shadow’s name, his blue eyes clouded with anger, his small lips peeled back in a white snarl. A growl, more deadly than I’ve ever heard from him before, emerged from his small chest and radiated outward like a miniature earthquake. Now this I had to stop.

  Shaking him gently, I snarled back. “Cease! This instant.”

  I didn’t care that most of the camp’s activity halted at my words. My focus sat entirely upon the furious baby I sat nose to nose with. I knew, deep down, if Tuatha’s enmity weren’t calmed soon, his hatred of the good-natured, amiable Shadow would grow such roots it could never be expelled. I dreaded to think of what would happen when Tuatha grew to adulthood with such a deep-rooted animosity. If his size as a weak and helpless whelp were any judge, Tuatha would far outstrip Shadow in mass and strength as an adult. If I could save Shadow’s life later, I would have to resort to stern measures now.

  Tuatha’s snarl ceased at my stern command. When I held his attention fully, I scowled. “Now listen here, youngling,” I growled as a wolf might. “Shadow did as he was bade. Remember Elder? Elder, and through him, Darius our god, commanded Shadow take you from your papa. To keep you safe. Do you hear me? To keep you safe.”

  Tuatha whined, his fuzzy ears trying to flatten. He struggled in my grip, wanting down. I refused both his plea and his struggles, and held him fast, his blue eyes locked with mine.

  “Papa wasn’t himself that night,” I said. “He needed to know it was all right to be a wolf. Shadow didn’t want to see you, Papa’s chosen son, get hurt. Do you understand me?”

  Tuatha cried again, denying my words, denying everythin
g from that night save Shadow’s teeth in his ruff, carrying him from his adopted and beloved papa.

  “It’s true, baby,” I said, tears once more coursing down my cheeks. The rising sun at least kept them from freezing this time. “You mustn’t blame Shadow for that night. That would be wrong and dishonorable and not wolfish. He protected you. He loves you. He loves Papa’s chosen son.”

  If a wolf could cry tears, Tuatha would have shed many in that moment. He struggled to be released. When I put him down, he crawled into my lap, whimpering uncontrollably. My own tears wetting his head, I bent over him, petting his downy fur, stroking his small ears, murmuring nonsense words one always managed to find to comfort the sick, the hopeless, the bereaved. Tuatha was all of them and more. He felt lost, utterly forsaken, and alone among strangers. Shadow was but the object of the rage he felt at being left behind, for being abandoned. I knew this, because his emotions mirrored my own.

  Raine, I thought, holding the crying pup close. You have a lot to answer for.

  Though all my attention was given to the suffering whelp in my lap, I knew the camp listened with more consideration than I thought the situation warranted. Perhaps I spoke for them as well, for who among them did not resent Raine for abandoning them? I know I certainly did.

  “Hush, baby,” I murmured, still stroking his quivering body. “I know. We all know. We all hurt, same as you. We all love him, same as you.”

  Raising my head, I scowled faintly at the frozen activity. Warriors and wolves all sat or stood transfixed as I tried to comfort one who, until now, refused comfort. I jerked my head but didn’t speak, my silent command clear: back to work.

  They obeyed me instantly. Horses got saddled, bags stuffed with the day’s provender, waterskins filled, breakfast eaten in between chores of breaking camp. Of them all, only Arianne remained beside me. Throughout my stern lesson, she sat without movement or comment, waiting until the heated emotion died away, waiting until Tuatha could once more find pride within himself.

  Without the staring eyes intimidating him, Tuatha finally blinked and lifted his head, his whimpers, for the most part, over with. He glanced about, licking his muzzle, his whines still voicing his upset.

  “I know, dear one,” I murmured, my hands still caressing. “It’s going to be all right. It’s all good.”

  He eyed the deliciously, to him, scented sack and again licked his lips. I smiled. By the gods, he was going to be all right.

  “Chow down,” I murmured, holding a fingerful of meaty sludge to his awaiting jaws. “Eat well and grow strong. Be a big, brave wolf.”

  Arianne scooted closer, no doubt wishing she could feed him. No time like the present, I thought, lifting the heavy pup from my lap and depositing him in Arianne’s willing arms.

  “Arianne will feed you this morning,” I said, handing her his meal sack. “I’ve duties to attend to.”

  Kissing the top of his head, I stood up, my thick nappy blanket still wrapped firmly about me. Tuatha devoured his breakfast from Arianne’s delighted fingers, his tail buzzing furiously.

  After sitting for so long, my legs cramped until I walked about, easing the soreness. I put a pot of water on the fire’s embers to heat as Mikk ambled in from grazing, free of saddle and bridle. He dropped his muzzle into my hands as caressed his silken face. I liked saddling him myself, and he liked me to saddle him. My boys always tightened his girth too much. After a quick ear rub, I tossed my saddle onto his broad back.

  I glanced up at the lack of activity around our dismantled camp “What now?” I asked the air in general, wondering who might answer first.

  Kel’Ratan, of course, did. I should have known.

  “We but wait for Rygel,” Kel’Ratan answered smoothly, his earlier humiliation still fresh in his eyes. I caught him glowering down at Nahar. Nahar ignored him, and scratched an itch behind his ear, hind legs thumping the stony soil. “He’s late, as usual.”

  “Your wait is over,” a tired voice spoke from the still darkened rocks just outside camp. “Rygel is here.”

  Rygel emerged into the muted light from both the not-quite risen sun and the dancing fire, a fully laden Shardon at his shoulder. Little Bull trotted over the rocks behind him, tail waving. Darkhan loped past them all, happily wagging his entire rear end and grinning. Sighting his beloved, he bounded to her side, eagerly licking her cheeks, his tail still waving madly. Arianne fended him off, a moue of disgust pursing her lips and furrowing her pale brow.

  “Leave off, damn it,” she complained. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  Darkhan licked the top of Tuatha’s head. I half-expected a new snarl to emerge, but perhaps my lesson was now ingrained. Tuatha ignored his visitor and continued his single-minded activity: swallowing as much mush as Arianne offered to his jaws within the shortest possible time. I couldn’t help it. I grinned.

  “And I’m never late,” Rygel added crossly, scowling at Kel’Ratan. “I said I’d be back by dawn.”

  “It’s after dawn,” Kel’Ratan corrected with a significant glance at the sun peeping over the peaks over us.

  “Don’t bother,” I said, turning back before Rygel puffed himself in righteous indignation and turned my cousin into a radish. “Let him have his petty victories. He has nothing else.”

  Ignoring Kel’Ratan’s sudden glare, I took Rygel by the arm and lead him to the fire. Tor, catching my glance, immediately brought warm food and cool water as I pushed Rygel into a sitting position.

  “Eat,” I said. “I’ve no doubt you’re hungry.”

  “Ravenous is a better word, I’m thinking,” he replied as he accepted the warmed meat, bread and cheese from Tor’s hands with an eagerness that rivaled Tuatha. Straightening, I caressed Shardon’s extended muzzle, brushing aside his thick forelock with my fingers.

  His kind brown eyes warmed as we locked gazes. Bending slightly, I kissed him between those gleaming depths. What could I say? On his back, bundled tightly to his saddle, so overburdened with our disguises that I bet Rygel walked all the way back. Rygel? Walking? Think again. He probably turned himself into a hawk and flew while Shardon, Little Bull and Darkhan ran. Considering the distance, had he walked, he’d still be on the road, leagues away.

  “Thank you,” I murmured, fondling Shardon’s silken ears. “Without you, we’d be lost.”

  “I’ll send my bill,” he replied.

  Chuckling, I motioned for anyone watching to come and relieve Shardon of his packs. Instantly, Left, Right, Witraz and Rannon hastily stepped forward. As I took the bridle from his head and rubbed the itchy spots left by the bit, they filled their arms with the clothing necessary for our survival and carried them back toward the fire. They left me with the task of removing the pack saddle from Shardon. I didn’t mind, however, and within moments stripped him of his gear. With a twist of heavy mountain grass, I curried his silver hide, making him sleek again. He thanked me with a nudge to my neck.

  “Get some food and some rest, dear one,” I murmured into his muzzle. “It’ll take us some time to outfit ourselves with this stuff.”

  Shardon nodded once to me and turned away. Trotting away, he found a nice patch of grass and munched.

  Having filled his belly as we worked, Rygel’s eyes closed all by themselves. Though by now the sun stood inches above the mountain peaks, I thrust a blanket at him. “You better get a little sleep,” I said. “It’s going to be a long day.”

  Seizing my hand from his shoulder, Rygel touched it briefly to his lips in quick homage. With a tired smile and a longing glance toward Arianne, he curled himself into the blanket next to the fire’s heat and lay down. Within a moment or two, he slept.

  I looked around. Arianne cleaned her hands of Tuatha’s breakfast while Tuatha himself nodded, tiny ears slack and blue eyes half-shut. He woke himself, trying to shake off sleep and sit straight, only to have the wicked drowsiness seize him once more. Taking a small fur, I dropped it on him.

  “Catch a nap, small one,” I murmured.
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  He aimed for a small snarl of protest, but my foot nudged him into the depths of the soft doeskin. “Don’t argue with me.”

  Grumbling, Tuatha burrowed into its velvety texture. Within a breath, he slept as soundly as Rygel.

  With my hands on my hips, I gazed around at the treasures unearthed by my boys. “Well, what have we got?”

  “Cloaks, tunics,” Witraz muttered, sorting the heavy woolen garments into piles.

  “I think these must be for Her Highness,” Alun said, holding up a heavy brocade travelling gown, split for riding, and a thick scarlet hooded cloak. A small pair of doeskin fur-lined boots completed the ensemble. The gown was pretty, a pale blue color sewn with tiny seed pearls and trimmed in silver lace. The cloak’s deep hood could withstand all but the heaviest rain and keep its owner warm and snug while outdoors. I wondered where Rygel had gotten it, for the gown was splendid enough for the Khalidian court.

  Arianne eyed it. “I’m supposed to wear that?”

  “You are, my dear,” I answered with a grin. “As your body slave, I’ll help you with all the laces.”

  “I think this is your collar,” said Kel’Ratan, holding up a simple leather slave’s collar with a heavy buckle. Thick fur, possibly rabbit, lined the underside. I may have to wear a collar, I thought wryly, but that didn’t mean my throat must chafe.

  He tossed it across to me. Working my gold torque from my neck, I sent it winging back to him. “Hide that,” I said. “And yours.”

  He grimaced, but obeyed. Taking off his own torque, he buried our signs of royalty deep into his saddlebags.

  Slaves didn’t wear steel warrior’s wrist cuffs either. Removing them, and my jewelry, I placed them gently at the bottom of my saddlebag, hoping I’d not be searched.

  “When he wakes up.” I nodded toward Rygel. “Get his torque as well. Household stewards aren’t usually royal.”

  Rannon tossed Left and Right their collars. “Twin jeweled collars for twin slaves.”