The Wolf Prince

by Claire M Banschbach

  Chapter 15

  I will never walk anywhere ever again. Lars pulled his hood up higher against the rain. And I’m about ready to swear off the outdoors altogether.

  With nothing much in the way of civilization between Halden, the river town, and Moss, the next village closest to the border, they’d elected to continue instead of waiting out the rain.

  Which meant trudging through a steady drizzle and occasional enthusiastic downpour most of the day.

  Whose bright idea was this? Of course, it was mine.

  He and Rose at least had the protection of cloaks, but water clung to Killian’s coat, gathering it in thick chunks despite his repeated attempts to shake the rain free. The twinkling lights of Moss appeared through the pattering rain and they quickened their pace, slogging through the thick mud of the main street in search of an inn.

  “Finally!” Rose pointed a dripping hand at the inn’s faded sign that declared itself to be The Weary Wyvern in chipped paint. Above the lettering, a wyvern curled on its back, a puff of smoke curling from its snout.

  “I always thought they’d be more terrifying,” she said.

  “We should go find a real one for proper comparison.” Lars scraped muck from his boots onto the stoop.

  “I’ll leave you boys to it.” Rose shuddered, struggling to relieve her boots of the miles of countryside they’d brought with them.

  Killian waited until they were under the relative shelter of the eaves before shaking water and mud from his coat in a damp spray. Lars pushed the door open to escape the flying droplets.

  The room was filled with patrons and the murmurs of conversations, and the snapping fire in the expansive hearth gave off a welcome warmth.

  “No dogs allowed,” a voice called, and Lars followed the speaker’s outstretched hand to Killian standing in the doorway.

  “But it’s raining out.” Rose gave the young man her most pathetic look. Lars had to admit it was impressive.

  The young bartender set the mug he was drying down on the high counter and slung the cloth over his shoulder. “Put it in t’ stable out back.”

  Lars scowled. He wasn’t about to let Killian spend the night in some drafty barn after the day in the rain. But he shouldn’t have worried.

  “Let them in, Jannik!” A burly man laughed, brushing past them with hands full of brimming tankards.

  Killian let his head droop low, his ears a floppy mess. His front legs looked to be supporting most of his weight with a pathetic quiver. Soulful amber eyes stared up at Jannik.

  The young man cleaned another mug with a professional twist of his cloth. He leaned on the counter, taking in the piteous sight that was currently Killian, and sighed—defeated.

  “Fine!” He glared at the patrons. “And if Father hears about this tomorrow night, you’re all getting charged double for your drinks!”

  A chorus of “Aye, Jannik!” and laughter came from the amused onlookers, but Jannik was forced to smile as Killian perked up and trotted into the room, taking up residence under an empty table in the corner. Rose joined him as Lars moved up to the bar.

  “Thank you.” Lars shifted back to avoid dripping on the spotless counter.

  “Some dog you’ve got there.” Jannik filled his newly-cleaned mugs from a cask labeled Wyvern’s Poison. “Wolf?”

  “There was some wolf on his sire’s side,” Lars said. “Bit far south for wyverns, isn’t it?”

  “My father served in t’ garrison fore I was born. Got sent up north t’ fight the wyverns. Got sent back missing part of his leg. King gave him a decent compensation and he started this place.”

  “Looks to have done well.” Lars took the drinks.

  “Aye, we can’t complain. Where you in from?”

  “Sister and I came over from Halden day ‘fore last,” Lars said, attempting to model his speech more after the clipped common dialect. He and Rose had decided to keep their fictional backstory. Might as well embrace the charade.

  Jannik nodded. “I’ll get your food right out. Mutton tonight, if that’s all right.”

  “Long as it’s hot.” Lars smiled. After days on the road, he didn’t much care what he ate as long as it wasn’t cold or salted.

  Lars joined Rose, who’d been answering her own friendly inquisition from the interested townspeople. He unslung his pack and crossbow from his back and set them beside hers under the table. Thankfully, with his arrival their table neighbors left them to their drinks.

  Lars nudged Killian with his boot. “I think you enjoy this sometimes.”

  Killian grinned back, sprawling on the floor.

  Rose chuckled. “Does anyone ever tell you no?”

  Killian shook his head, showering Lars’s feet with the last few droplets. Lars rolled his eyes, drinking the thin layer of foam from the top of his cider.

  Jannik wasn’t long with the food, balancing plates as he emerged from the back kitchen in a cloud of steam. He slid two onto the table in front of them, a medley of tender mutton chunks, seasoned potatoes slathered in gravy, and dark bread to mop up the bits.

  He placed a third plate of mutton and bread scraps on the floor for Killian, who barked his thanks, inhaling his dinner with all the enthusiasm of a starving wolf—or young boy.

  Jannik frowned down at him and turned back to the table. “Need anything else?”

  “Just a room for t’ night, please.” Lars ignored Rose’s teasing eyebrow.

  “Only got one open. Mind sharing with your brother?” Jannik glanced at Rose. He obviously wasn’t taken in with the siblings story.

  Rose gulped at her cider. “No.” Her voice squeaked.

  “Staying long?”

  “Just t’ night,” Lars answered for her. “We’ll be on our way in t’ morning.”

  “You might ‘ave to rethink that, lad,” a man at the neighboring table piped up. “It’ll still be raining tomorrow.”

  “Don’t listen t’ him,” his tablemate broke in. “My bones tell me it’ll be sunny tomorrow.”

  “Just like your bones told you t’ sun would shine during that blizzard three years ago?” The first man scoffed.

  Jannik smiled as the table and three of its neighbors broke into an argument about the predictive validity of the man’s bones and the more trusted nose of farmer Hans.

  “It’ll be upstairs, third door on t’ right,” Jannik said, artfully dodging his way out of the rapidly escalating argument.

  “What do we do if it is raining tomorrow?” Rose carved up an overlarge potato chunk with her spoon.

  Lars attempted to cool a hot piece of mutton with a sip of cider. When he could finally talk again, he shrugged. “We’re almost to the forest. We could find some shelter there.”

  She cast a forlorn look at the fire and he couldn’t help but agree. He could do with a few days’ rest, fresh clothes, and a bath. They all could.

  But their money wouldn’t last forever, and they still had to plan for the trip home. He’d been developing an annoying bit of foresight. Pauline would laugh.

  “How long do you think—?” Rose broke off, staring at Killian. “What’s wrong?”

  Kilian stood on all fours, ears pricked, focused on something behind Lars. Lars twisted in his chair to see, ignoring the plump merchants at their table and the granite-featured farmer, and instead settled his gaze on the lone man at the back table.

  The man ignored Lars, studying Killian with a slight tilt to his head. He nodded once and went back to his mug.

  “Lars?” Rose whispered, reaching for her knife below the table.

  Lars shook his head and turned back before anyone caught him staring. Killian’s posture conveyed alert curiosity, but not particular aggression.

  “He’s leaving,” Rose spoke softly.

  Lars tilted his head to watch from the corner of his eye. The man stood a bit shorter than average, an impressive bulk to his arms under the short-sleeve jerkin. He carried no obvious weapon but moved with a sure grace that announced he knew how to h
andle himself.

  As they watched, he turned to take in all three with a glance, then stepped out into the rain, devoid of a cloak.

  Killian sat back on his haunches, licking his nose with a contemplative air.

  “He was watching Killian.”

  Rose leaned closer. “One of t’ sorcerer’s men?”

  Killian shook himself, lying back down under the table.

  “I agree with Killian.” Lars pushed his empty plate away. “But I think he knows something.”

  “Kaja did say they sent word t’ Myrnius.” She stared at the door.

  “Not much we can do now,” Lars said. “If he turns back up, we might have to talk.”

  “And what if he’s sending word t’ the sorcerer right now? We don’t know who serves him.” She lifted a shoulder in apology to Killian, who growled.

  His brother agreed with Rose. But now that they were closer to their goal, the odds were beginning to rear their ugly heads. If Uncle Einar found Sandnes village, then chances are the sorcerer might know too. He’s not far behind, according to the troll. And how are we to find a faery?

  Faeries weren’t exactly known to be very outgoing, and it wasn’t like Celedon was small.

  “Figure it out in t’ morning?” Rose offered a smile.

  Lars sighed with temporary defeat. They pushed away from the table, dragging packs and damp cloaks over their shoulders. They’d made it halfway to the stairs, exchanging friendly goodnights, when Lars glimpsed Killian lagging behind.

  “He might as well,” Jannik called, collecting their plates. More cheers greeted his goodwill and Killian trotted up the stairs behind them.

  “Sure you’re all right with sharing?” Rose opened the door to their room. Two beds stood on opposite sides of the small room, with a table tucked in between.

  “It’s not terribly different than camping, is it?” Lars tossed his pack by the bed closer to the door. Except Mother would be coming after me with a vengeance for this.

  “Suppose not.” She set her pack on the floor and lit the candle.

  It stood to reason they were a bit past propriety by now. And this is just like camping, he sternly reminded himself. Funny how having walls around changed the dynamic of sharing a space to sleep.

  A bucket of clean water and some towels rested on the small table. Rose washed her hands and face, then Lars had his turn. Lars dunked his towel into the water and glanced at Killian, who backed against the door and bared his teeth.

  “You’re still covered in mud.”

  Killian drooped, reluctantly allowing Lars to scrub chunks of mud from his legs and chest. Lars ruffled his ears and Killian shoved his head into Lars’s shoulder, almost knocking him over.

  “You’re welcome,” Lars grumbled, pushing Killian away with a last ruffle of his fur.

  Rose laughed, taking the towel and rinsing it as Killian retreated to groom his fur back to order.

  Rose shucked her boots and tunic, diving under her blanket on the second bed. Lars did the same, pausing before snuffing the candle. Killian rustled on the floor, trying to get comfortable.

  “Killi, come on.”

  Killian cocked his head.

  “There’s enough room.”

  It would be a tight fit, but it could work. He slid closer to the wall as Killian jumped up onto the bed. As soon as he settled, Lars reached over and extinguished the candle, plunging the room into darkness.

  They lay in silence for a few minutes as a pale grey light filtered in through the window. The rain kept up its patter on the peaked roof, but despite the soothing sound, Lars couldn’t find sleep. Rose’s breathing evened out across the room. Killian heaved a deep breath.

  “You all right?” Lars whispered.

  Killian placed his head on Lars’s shoulder, cold nose dampening his shirt. In the faint light, Lars glimpsed an extra shine in Killian’s eyes. He shifted to wrap an arm around his brother, holding him tight.

  I wish there was something to say instead of the same stupid thing. What if it’s not going to be all right?

  He released his hold and let Killian curl up closer before they finally drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 16

  Rose woke with the dawn. The dim, grey light filtering through the narrow pane grew stronger the longer she resisted the call to rise. She breathed a sigh of relief at the silence.

  The rain had stopped.

  She peeked over the edge of her blanket. The boys were still asleep across the room. She crawled out from her nest of blankets, sliding her feet back into her boots and grimacing at the residual dampness. She laced up her tunic and re-tied her mess of hair. Her damp curls had dried to a frizzy tangle. She gave them one last half-hearted pat and sighed. It’ll be a nightmare trying to untangle that later.

  She took the bucket on her way out the door, still full of murky water from the previous night. They’d need fresh water. Maybe she could use it to do something with her hair. She paused at the foot of the bed where Lars lay sandwiched between the wall and Killian.

  “Good morning!” She inserted an extra dose of cheerfulness into her voice.

  Lars pulled the blanket over his face. “Go away. Just a few more hours.”

  Killian burrowed his head under the pillow and growled. Rose smothered a laugh. She’d have to see if Jannik had any kaffe or they might never get Lars moving.

  “I’m going t’ get water.”

  Lars mumbled a reply through the blanket and Rose rolled her eyes, heading downstairs. Jannik was already up, stirring at the fire.

  “Where can I get some water?” Rose held up the bucket.

  Jannik looked up in surprise. “Your brother didn’t offer?”

  “Oh, I don’t mind. He’s not much of an early riser. Have any kaffe?”

  “Aye, I’ll have t’ cook heat some water. Well’s through there.” He pointed at the door set behind the bar. Rose thanked him with a smile.

  Clouds still gathered, their sober countenance reflected in the pools that filled the cobbled courtyard. She dumped the old water, picking her way across the yard by way of the stones that rose above the water like tiny islands. A hint of coolness carried through the air on a light breeze.

  Rose studied the sky as she cranked the handle to haul fresh water. The clouds looked to have spent most of their fury, but she wouldn’t be surprised to see a few drizzles later. Hopefully it would hold off long enough for them to get back on the road.

  She filled the bucket and made her way back to the inn, water sloshing dangerously in the bucket as she tried to save her boots another soaking.

  “I tell you, they said it was Prince Lars ‘imself!” An excited voice halted her just outside the door.

  “Prince Lars?” Jannik’s voice dripped with doubt.

  “Aye, an’ his brother Killian, t’ wolf prince,” the first speaker said.

  “Wolf? Just a story isn’t it?” Someone else chimed in.

  “Not anymore. Seems a sorcerer or somesuch changed ‘im t’ a wolf. Now they’re wandering Calvyrn with a Ranger doing good deeds t’ break the spell.”

  “And where’d you hear this?” A woman spoke this time.

  “Heard it from Holt, who ‘ad it from a merchant that came through from Fjorn.”

  The murmur that followed indicated this Holt was a fellow of some repute. She didn’t wait to hear more but pushed through the door. The crowd by the bar didn’t pay her any mind, but Jannik glanced up. She hurried up the stairs to the room.

  Not surprisingly, her companions still weren’t up. She scooped a handful of water and flung it over them.

  “Get up!”

  Lars pulled the blanket down to glare at her through sleep-filled eyes. Killian didn’t even move, so she flicked more water. Lars propped himself up on his elbows as Killian slithered off the bed, warily eyeing her and the bucket.

  “There had better be a good reason for this. It’s probably treason to throw water at princes.”

  Rose almost emptied the bucket
over him. “I think we’re famous.”

  “We are princes.” Lars yawned and dragged a hand through his hair.

  “No!” She explained what she heard, gratified to see new alertness show through their tired faces.

  “This changes things.” Lars reached for his boots and frowned. His hadn’t dried either.

  “Any chance you’d be recognized?”

  “I don’t know, but we probably shouldn’t stick around to see.” Lars rubbed his eyes with another yawn.

  How has he survived this long? “I asked for some kaffe.”

  “So, breakfast?” Lars looked up hopefully, Killian mirroring his brother’s expression. How did anyone resist those two?

  “Breakfast first.”

  They took turns changing behind the curtain hung in the corner opposite the beds. Adam’s wife had kindly washed their clothes after the fight with the baedons. The rain had soaked through the packs, leaving them a bit damp, but at least they were still clean and didn’t smell as strong.

  Rose found her comb at the bottom of her pack and attempted to bring some order back to her hair. The boys finally gave up and went downstairs, leaving her to finish. She fought long enough to declare a victory—or at least a truce—and re-tied the leather cord around the bulk of her curls. She scooped up her pack and bow and trudged down to the common area, where hot breakfast awaited.

  *

  “We need some more supplies, don’t we?” Lars gulped down the last of his kaffe.

  Rose nudged her limp pack with her toe. Lars’s wasn’t in much better shape.

  “Yes, and we should probably get them here.”

  She dug out her small coin purse while Lars rose and settled their bill with Jannik. She and the prince might finally be on good terms, but she wasn’t going to be completely in his debt.

  Killian stretched and rose from under the table. She stared down at his shaggy profile as he watched Lars. I wonder what he really looks like. How similar are he and Lars? In looks or personality.

  Killian had always sounded like the more respected prince, even with the rumors surrounding him.

  She’d never really thought how hard this must be on him. Never really asked either, even though she wouldn’t understand the answer. Some friend I’m turning out to be.