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

by Auryn Hadley

  The Wolf of Oberhame Series

  Book Two

  When We Were Dancing

  Auryn Hadley

  Spotted Horse Productions

  When We Were Dancing is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Auryn Hadley

  All Rights Reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher and the copyright owner constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Published by Spotted Horse Productions

  First Edition: February 2016

  Cover Art by Spotted Horse Productions

  Edited by Sarah Williams

  DEDICATION

  To my fans, who convince me to keep writing, even when things aren't going like I planned. To the men and women out there, who don't fit into what society expects, but fight back silently, hoping for a way to make miracles happen. To my better halves – both of you – for keeping me sane while I make all of this work.

  But mostly, this one is to my puppy, for spending countless hours at my feet, proving what true devotion really looks like.

  Prologue

  Princess Leyli woke, cradled in the soft down of a real bed, covered in heavy blankets, with her head resting on the solid mass of the Lion of Lenlochlien. It was where she belonged, but if the sun streaming through the windows was an indication, it was also much later in the day than she'd planned to wake up. She groaned and rolled onto her back.

  Beside her, the brute of a gladiator chuckled. "Guess the rumors are true, huh?" he teased. "The palace doesn't get up before noon."

  She tried to rub the crust from her eyes. "It's probably closer to ten."

  "A lot later than dawn." Turning to face her, he used his elbow to prop his head up. The man looked comfortable in her bed.

  "A lot earlier than noon." Leyli threw off the blankets and walked brazenly to her wardrobe. "Get up, Tristan. Dad wants to have lunch with us, and you need some clothes."

  "Chamber pot?" he asked, sitting up.

  She pointed to a heavily painted door. "The palace has latrines and a sewer. One of the things Dad got from the Rhians."

  He gave her a surprised look, then followed her gesture to the tiny room. In twenty years, Norihame had borrowed a lot of good ideas from their neighbors, and a few bad ones. The gladiatorial games was an example of the latter. Leyli wanted to change that. As the first female heir to the throne, it might even be possible. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be easy. Her time in the games had shown her that.

  The public loved the spectacle too much and would resist doing away with it completely. Most small towns had only limited jail facilities, which meant crimes were often punishable by death or servitude as a gladiator. Too often, that was the same thing. The biggest challenge to changing the barbaric practice, was the one thing she wanted to see absolved completely: selling people for their debts.

  That was how Tristan, her partner, had ended up on the sands. It was probably how most of the men in the games got their start. It was the excuse her cousin had given when he sold Leyli to a small arena in the middle of nowhere. She hadn't owed any debts, but the Domn of Lanmont, Palino Sarisona, didn't care. She'd been the excuse he needed to kill her brother, pretending to be a common criminal abducting the Princess. No one had expected her to survive her first fight.

  Except Tristan.

  The Lion had not only believed in her, but fought beside her for five - almost six - months. It's how she'd managed to stay alive long enough for her father to find her. She certainly hadn't expected to be named heir. Evidently, neither had her cousin. Even after killing her brother, Palino still wasn't in line for the throne, which meant he was dangerous. Too bad Norihame was too civilized to execute him without proof of his crime. She wanted to run the bastard through herself.

  Leyli's mind wandered as she pulled on a comfortable dress. It wasn't fancy by palace standards, but it was still suitable for the Princess and heir of Norihame. She was adjusting her cleavage when a gentle hand glided down her back to the laces that secured the garment. Tristan leaned over her shoulder.

  "How tight?"

  "Breastplate, not corset." She knew he'd understand.

  He tugged, proving her right. Half a year of fighting for her life left the Princess with the body of a solider. What had once been ample cleavage was now little more than a crease at her neckline. The narrow waist and soft hips she'd been proud of had become a hard abdomen and lean lines of muscle. Then there was her nose. The tiny ridge between her eyes where it had been broken was a reminder that she was not the delicate girl who'd been so pampered.

  "Perfect." She waited for him to tie it off, then turned.

  Tristan waited to meet her eyes, then glanced down, making it clear his attire was not suitable for public. "Got anything in that fancy closet that would fit me? This isn't a style I think the King would appreciate."

  "There's pants on your bed."

  He lifted a brow. "And a shirt?"

  Leyli giggled. "Um, the staff were still working on that when Dad locked them out."

  He grunted, sounding unimpressed, and headed for the door in the far wall. Leyli reached for her brush. She'd managed to pull it through her hair twice when a knock came from the other room. Scurrying to answer it, she found the King on the other side with a glass decanter of liquor, a small wooden box, and something red tossed over his shoulder. Leyli stepped back to let him in, exposing that she was alone in her sitting room. It wouldn't take long before that was whispered around and they both knew it.

  "I see why you wanted to find him," Ilario said, placing the bottle and box on the side table. "I also decided to show off a bit. Lunch will be up shortly, and is being cooked to celebrate his victory yesterday."

  Leyli grabbed her dad's waist and hugged. "Thank you. I know it's completely improper - "

  He patted her head. "You were always a good lady, we both know that. Palino took that out of your control, and we're doing the best with what we have. I won't make you feel worse for becoming the person you needed to be in order to survive. I also won't dislike your Lion for trying to be a gentleman."

  "He's a good man, Dad, even if his birth didn't have heralds announcing it."

  The King chuckled. "I never thought that made anyone better. Look at Alain. I will admit, I do dislike the man a bit - because I want to keep you safe, and he does that differently than I would."

  "Sire," Tristan breathed, stepping into the room just in time to hear. His chest was still bare, but he had on a pair of soft grey pants.

  Leyli pulled away from her father, but the King lifted a hand, easing them both. "I'm her father. In the perfect world in my head, you should have performed some miracle that kept her from seeing violence. Her life should have consisted of worrying about what slippers matched her dress, not if her shield was high enough to save your head. Come sit, Lion. Relax. You've earned it."

  Tristan looked at Leyli, then back to her father. "I still need a shirt."

  The king chuckled. "I suppose you do." He grabbed the red cloth and tossed it over. "The sleeves may be short, but the chest should do until we find something better. Been a long time since I fit in that."

  With one arm shoved inside, Tristan paused. "Sire? I can't wear - "

  The King didn't let him finish. "
Second-hand clothes are a common gift for our staff. You can, and it's a lot more proper than lounging bare chested before the unmarried princess." One raised brow made the point.

  "Yes, sire." Tristan pulled the shirt over his head.

  The sleeves were short, but loose enough to push up. The chest fit nicely. At least, Leyli thought so. It was tight enough to show off his muscles, but not so much as to be improper. It was also long enough that the Lion didn't bother to tuck it in. His mismatched attire wouldn't become more impressive stuffed and belted, so it was pointless to try. This was the first time Leyli had ever seen him wearing anything but his gladiator armor or the cheap tunic and trews supplied by their team owner. She fought the urge to let her eyes roam.

  Instead, she turned to her father. "You're early. What did you want, Dad?"

  The King shrugged. "I think Tristan will want this sitting down. I'm not in a rush, Leyli, let the man be comfortable."

  She turned to the table, claiming a chair. "This sounds almost serious."

  "Not too bad," her father assured them both, taking the place closest to her.

  Tristan glanced at her before moving to the King's other side. He looked out of place in her chambers. The colors were all soft and feminine, the materials all gauzy and trimmed in lace, but Tristan was very big and solid. Oddly, he didn't seem offended at the delicate nature of her suite, but he did look slightly overwhelmed as he found a place to sit. Then again, most people weren't used to a casual meal with the ruler of their country, especially not a farmer's son who'd just won his freedom from the gladiatorial arena. For three years, her best friend had been a slave. Now, he was the Heir's bodyguard.

  "First," the King said, "a guard from the arena brought this to the palace this morning. Said it was from your cell?" He tapped the wooden box.

  Tristan's eyes dropped to it and he nodded. He didn't look overly thrilled. "I used to think that held my future."

  "The jewels?" Leyli asked.

  He nodded. "A lot of bad memories in that box."

  She slid it closer, shocked at the weight. "I'll help you sell them. If you want, we can ask someone else to handle it."

  "Thanks," Tristan mumbled, trying to offer a smile. She knew how much he hated what he'd done to earn those trinkets. "We'll worry about that later."

  "Most importantly," Ilario started, pulling their attention back to him, "should we notify your family of your victory in the games, your freedom, and your new position in court?"

  He pressed his lips together. "They can't read, sire."

  "Ilario," the King corrected. Tristan's new position put him outside the need for formalities like proper titles. "And I can send someone who can read for them."

  The Lion's face smoothed in shock. "How long would it take to reach Matinglen in Lenlochlien?"

  "At most a week, depending on the weather. At best, four days."

  "And you wouldn't mind?"

  Ilario shook his head. "It would be my pleasure. I know what it feels like to worry about a child's safety. I can only imagine being in a position where I couldn't command the entire army to scour the country."

  Tristan nodded, a smile working its way to his face. "I'd appreciate that, Ilario, but I'd prefer that you only say I've accepted a position in the palace, not what it is."

  "Why?"

  He chuckled. "My mother would panic, fearing that I'm overstepping my place. She'd also scold me in ways that you wish to, for being inappropriate with the Princess."

  That made Ilario laugh heartily. "I think I approve of the woman." Then he paused, his brow wrinkling. "You said you're a farmer's son. Does that mean your father has land?"

  "My mother, sir. My father died in the wars."

  Ilario looked between them, his head bobbing to some internal thoughts. Finally, he smiled. "Leyli, how would you feel about visiting Lenlochlien?"

  "I would like to. Why?"

  "Because Palino moved back into his suite in the Palace last night. I would rather you were out of his reach. I'd been trying to think of a reason that wouldn't raise suspicions. I believe your Secor, and your familiarity with him, will cause enough distraction for the nobility to think of it as a simple scandal."

  "Sir," Tristan said, but once again, Ilario wouldn't let him finish.

  "Everything we do is a scandal, my boy. You'll have to get used to it. The Princess escorting her partner and companion to see his mother is the least of our worries. It also makes it very clear that I approve of you."

  "A farm house is no place for a princess," Tristan countered.

  This time, it was Leyli who came to her own defense. "Neither is a gladiatorial arena, and yet I'm more fit for the throne because of it. I think my delicate sensibilities can accommodate the hospitality. Your mother might have more trouble. Dad, I'd rather it was a surprise visit. If necessary, the royal entourage can find rooms in an inn or field."

  "I agree."

  A grin was slowly claiming Tristan's face. "Ley, you'd give my mother the kind of honor she's only dreamed of. You know that, right?"

  "I guessed. I think she'll be more interested in seeing you, though. Dad, I want to give presents. Tristan's never handled a horse. You think Alain might have someone willing to teach his brother to use the blacks?"

  "The blacks?" Tristan asked, completely lost.

  Leyli nodded. "Pair of plow horses from the best lines. I bought them on a whim but have no need of them, so they're going to waste. I'm betting they'd do well on a farm. We can use them to haul fodder for the mounts on our way down and leave the entire cart."

  The King nodded. "I approve, Leyli. Now, for the rest of what I wanted." He turned to Tristan. "I'm officially accepting you into the King's guard, tomorrow. Your position as Secor and your rank of Captain will be announced to the assembly. You will receive a monthly stipend for your service."

  Tristan took a deep breath, looking like he needed time to wrap his mind around the new world he lived in. For many, such a thing was a dream so far above what they could reach, but Ilario had just made it a reality. Slowly, he nodded.

  "And," Ilario went on, "you will be in charge of her personal guard. She will continue to train as you deem proper for her safety. I want you to find a schedule that works with her royal responsibilities, but make sure that her muscles do not get soft and that her reflexes do not grow dull. You will treat the Princess of Norihame no different than you would a tandem partner in the games, am I clear? Her modesty is not your concern, keeping alive the future ruler of the country is."

  Tristan looked at her, smiled, then her father. "That means I will likely be rather inappropriate with her, sire."

  "I am aware of that. You will need to walk a fine line. Rumors of an affair between the two of you could cause more harm than her cousin. We need the nobility to respect her, and the country has never seen a woman who controls her own future. Leyli is the Princess, and I hate to say it, your better."

  Leyli gasped. "I am not!"

  "You are," Tristan said. "That you were locked away with me is bad enough. Running to my rescue? Pup, I'm just your guard. You are the one who will rule Norihame."

  Ilario nodded at him. "Before all of this happened, I always thought it was a shame that Leyli couldn't rule. She's brilliant, she's devious, and she has the strength to do it, but society expected her to be meek and beautiful. Her brother would have been a good man, but a weak king. Palino doesn't yet realize that while it breaks my heart, he did the country a favor."

  "Dad," Leyli breathed.

  He just shook his head. "It's true, Leyli. It's also true that without Tristan, you never would have learned the distasteful things necessary to do this. I hate that this happened. I hate that Kale is dead, but I'm not blind. I know that Norihame is the only one who will win because of your cousin's aspirations for the throne. Fate did us all a favor when you ended up in that cell beside such a gladiator."

  "I will take care of her," Tristan swore. "Both because I was raised to respect the Aravatti crown a
nd because I owe her my life."

  "I know," Ilario assured him. "I also know that her husband will hate you. Leyli, we must look at the offers for your marriage."

  She nodded. "I know. I'd like to address them personally, if you don't mind."

  The King smiled. "Oh, I think that's a brilliant idea. I'll set it up for the end of next week."

  Chapter 1

  In a sandy area behind the stables, two gladiators faced off. Both of them wore simple trews and tunics. Their feet were encased in boots instead of sandals. Their weapons were made of wood. As they set up across from each other, none of it mattered. This felt right. Only when Leyli was in position did he nod to let her attack.

  Ducking low behind her shield, the Princess moved in. Tristan had the advantage of reach. They sparred, but not like well trained soldiers. Their tactics were deceitful and dirty, meant to win, not impress. As the wood rang out against the shield, the guards began to gather. When Tristan kicked Leyli into the sand, they gasped, but she rolled and was back on her feet before he could close the distance. When she rammed into him and hacked at his legs, the wood cracking against his shin, they cheered.

  While the pair trained, men called out advice, and more showed up to watch the spectacle. The pair ignored it all. They were used to a crowd. They knew how to fight for their lives. Tristan was testing her, looking for weaknesses, and she was trying to prove that she'd learned. It didn't make her stronger, though, so when he began to beat her back, there was nothing she could do to stop him. With one last shove, the Lion knocked her shield away, pushed her to the ground, and landed above her, the sword pointed at her neck.

  Panting, Leyli nodded. "I don't know how to stop that."

  With a grin, he tossed away the sword and sat beside her. Like her, he was breathing hard. "We'll figure it out. I'm not the only big guy in the world."