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

by Auryn Hadley

  The damned blonde chuckled. "She fighting?" Yeah, he was in the first group.

  "No." Tristan's word held no room for debate, but Leyli's mouth opened anyway. He went on before she could undermine him. "I want to see what you can do when she's not keeping your asses alive. I know Ley can duck."

  Like the royalty she was, Leyli walked right into the middle of their group. She looked every bit the lady, but Tristan knew better. As the guards lined up across from him, he made note of their positions. Oddly, the blonde - Gregori, he reminded himself - wasn't at the front. He was on Leyli's right side. Across from him was the man who fought like he'd spent his life getting expensive lessons, the one from Leyli's current guard.

  The three men forming a line before the heir to the throne were impressive. All of them were big and well muscled. It was hard to serve in the guard and not be. The one on the left was the biggest, but his grip on the sword looked awkward. The man in the center was trying to look ferocious but hadn't quite managed. The one to the right? He was completely plain and easy to forget. His body language said he wasn't a threat. Tristan planned to take him out first, before the asshole could make him look like a fool.

  Tristan growled, then charged them all. They didn't get a chance to prepare. They didn't need a bell or someone to call out that the fight was starting. He wasn't trying to give them a chance. He wanted to see what they could do. He wanted to see how badly they would fail. He wanted to destroy them, just like he had so many men in the games.

  The boring man on the right ducked, responding with a graceful counter attack. Tristan just smacked the sword from his hands. The idiot lurched behind the next guy, forcing Tristan to change his focus.

  A crack to the skull dropped that idiot. The monster on the left wasn't much harder. Kick to the ribs, elbow to the face, then a sword to the back proved he hadn't stood a chance, but the overly average-looking, swordless man wasn't ready to give up. He surged in, bare handed, managing to get a hit to Tristan's throat before taking a death blow. Impressive.

  The blonde was right there, ready to take advantage of it, but Tristan wasn't playing fair. Parrying with the flat of his blade, he turned his attention to the prize. Leyli knew the moment he made his decision and turned, but she wasn't used to the skirt. It slowed her just a fraction of a second, enough for him to grab her hair. The long locks tangled in his fingers, and she dropped, rolling away, leaving strands as the only proof he'd touched her. When he raised his eyes, the blonde was between them.

  But the last man had seen his chance. He swung, aiming for Tristan's throat. Wood crashed together as they danced. Spinning, the pair moved around each other, the skilled fighter trying to turn the enemy's back to his partner. Too bad Tristan knew this move. He kicked out with his leg, knocking the guy off his feet, and went for Leyli again.

  Like a loyal dog, the blonde stayed between them. Even as the Lion beat his sword back and pummeled his body with punches, Gregori would not go down. With the first man still trying to get up without exposing himself, this was his chance. Tristan shoved the blonde and came at his girl with a hard overhand swing.

  He meant to pull it. He never would have hit her with the full force. He sure as shit didn't expect the damned brat to throw his body into it, but that's exactly what the blonde did. The wooden blade hit him hard across the chest and shoulder, knocking the wind from him, but Leyli hadn't come close to being in danger. It was just wood, yet Gregori had taken the pain so that Leyli wouldn't have to.

  That didn't mean the fight was over. The first man was pressing him hard. With the rest of his team down, Tristan finally got the chance to focus on his opponent. He was the same guy who'd begged to spar with Leyli. He was also good. Really fucking good, and pushing Tristan back.

  Each thrust of his weapon was calculated. Every swing was scripted. The man fought like he'd never known anything else, and Tristan was hard pressed to keep up. Not even the dirty tricks he was used to were helping. Sand at his face, and the guard just closed his eyes, ducked his head, then leaned back out of reach. Kick to his leg, and he pivoted, dancing like a noble. A feint to the right and the man parried left. For the first time in his life, Tristan knew why the guard had the reputation they did. He couldn't get around this man's sword! All he had left was brute strength.

  The hits got harder and the guard's weapon began to drop. He was good but too damned precise. Could the brat deal with something unconventional? The smile began to light up Tristan's face as he made his plan. With each block, he stepped over until his back was to Leyli. Then, just as the pompous ass committed to pushing, he spun and charged her.

  "Leyli!" the guard yelled as he tossed his sword.

  She caught it by the hilt, crouching into a fighting stance, and avoided his first strike. His second never came. Warm steel pressed into his neck only a split second before the arm caught his jaw from behind, securing the blade. For the first time in memory, the Lion of Lenlochlien had been defeated. Tristan lifted both hands and let the wooden practice blade fall to the ground.

  "Are you ok, Highness?" the guard asked.

  She giggled and waved his weapon away. "I am. Thank you, Temotio. Tristan?"

  "I'm honestly impressed." He turned to the clean cut guard and offered a hand. "And damned glad you never ended up as a gladiator. Thought you'd be too stiff to cheat."

  Temotio shoved his dagger back into the sheath at his belt. "My first instructor always said that scripts and stances never saved a man's life. They just taught him to hold a sword." He shrugged, looking up to meet Tristan's eyes. "When I saw you dance, I finally understood what he meant. I'm also willing to learn, sir."

  "Good. Then you, Gregori, and what's your name?" He pointed at the boring man who'd lost his sword.

  "Armando, sir."

  "Right. You three keep your muscles warm. You and you? Go back to where you're supposed to be. Ok. Next five. You, you, you, you and you." The Lion caught Leyli's eye and smiled before striding across the sand away from her. Yeah. Maybe he'd find a couple of guys after all. He already had three.

  Chapter 6

  He got all their names, including the eight who'd managed to impress him. They weren't good - except Temotio, and he was still too stiff - but they had the potential to learn. Tristan intended to make them do it quickly. He also wanted to see what Leyli knew about these men. He had a feeling it was a lot more than he expected.

  He kept that to himself until the end of the day. The little Princess had been following her father around for the last few hours, assisting with a few political meetings and a couple of legal disputes. Just as the sun began to set, the King told her to enjoy the evening, releasing her from any more royal duties. Tristan stepped up, falling in easily at her right hand side.

  "You gonna show me these rose gardens?" he asked.

  Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, but she gestured to a hall. "Sure. Is this something I should get dressed for?"

  His eyes roamed across her body. He had no idea what her dress was made of, but it was sheer and soft, begging his hands to touch it. Across the length of it, tiny designs were embroidered with delicate stitches. The trim along her bodice drew the eye to her wooden necklace. All of it hugged her tiny waist, proving that her stomach really was that flat.

  He cleared his throat. "I think the weather's warm enough, still. Just wanted to see a royal garden."

  The hint of color on her cheeks proved his gaze hadn't gone unnoticed. Oddly, he didn't mind. If she knew he looked, then maybe she'd realize how beautiful she was. It sounded like no one had ever bothered to tell her before, and he wouldn't mind being the first, the millionth, and the last. When she turned down yet another hall, he tried to remind himself why he wanted her alone - and that she was not his for the taking.

  At the end of the hall was a plain wooden door. On either side of it were two guards in grey. Just before they passed through, Tristan recognized the man on the left. The bruise on his forehead was hard to miss. He paused, feeling Ley
li shift to stay at his side.

  "Horatio?" he asked.

  The man shook his head. "Horace, sir."

  "Your Captain know you applied for the Heir's Guard?"

  The man on the other side chuckled. "I figured it out when he showed up with that on his head, Secor."

  Tristan nodded at the apparent Captain, checking his uniform for some sign of rank. He hadn't figured out how the guard signified their positions, yet, but he was going to learn. He also wasn't about to admit that he was faking this. He knew how to find fighters able to survive the games. He knew Leyli. Between the two of those, he'd figured creating her ideal guard couldn't be that tough, but he'd been wrong.

  "Good. I hope to announce my choice as soon as possible. If you'll excuse us." Tristan pushed open the door and held it for Leyli to walk through, then moved behind her.

  Outside, the sky was turning dark, but the clouds were still lined in deep magenta. A few insects cried out their desperate need for attention. All around him were plants, most with flowers, stretching to the high stone wall that locked them into safety. A decorative stone path wound through the miniature jungle, disappearing quickly from sight behind a pillar of evergreens. Leyli inhaled deeply, enjoying the fragrance.

  "I haven't been out here since I got back." She walked ahead, glancing back to make sure he followed.

  This suited her. It also made her look softer, more like the first time he'd seen her. Tristan watched her shoulders relax and all the royal masks fall away, leaving only a brilliant girl staring off at the sunset. When they made it around the next bend, out of sight of the palace, he reached for her hand, sliding her tiny fingers between his. This was how he always wanted to remember her.

  "You belong here," he said softly. "I don't know how I missed it."

  The smile she flashed him was perfection. "You probably didn't expect a princess to bash men to death with a shield."

  He laughed. That was basically it. In his mind, the Princess of Norihame had been spoiled and prudish, and while they all spoke of her beauty, he thought it would be a lie. Nobles weren't pretty. They were inbred and rich, expecting their wealth to make up for what their faces lacked. He should have known better. He'd seen the Queen, before she passed away. Leyli's mother had been exactly the type of woman a man would sell his kingdom for. His pup might act like her father, but she looked just like her mother.

  "Hey." He pulled her to a stop then moved closer, refusing to let go of her fingers. "I need the help of someone named Leylani Meridia Aravatti."

  She turned in a swirl of fabric and executed a perfect curtsey. "At your service."

  "Mm. I could get used to that." He caught her by the waist and turned her to the flowers, holding her against his chest. "So, Princess, how exactly does a guy like me learn all about these men I want to come running at your beck and call?"

  She leaned back into him. "And what exactly are you trying to find out?"

  "Oh, like which ones are loyal to the Aravatti crown, which have bad habits. Little things like that."

  "Bettino, the Captain of my Dad's guard, is probably a good place to start."

  Tristan leaned over her shoulder to see her face. "You mean you can't recite everything about them?"

  She gently poked her elbow into his gut. "No. I can't keep track of everyone, and if they don't have a direct impact on court, I trusted my maid to let me know what I needed." Then she turned, her face only inches from his. "Why?"

  "Because I found eight. I wanted to get them someplace out of the palace and ask a few questions to see how they respond." He couldn't help but look at her lips.

  The tip of her tongue darted out, moistening them. "Pretty sure Bettino knows of a couple pubs, too. I can give you enough to buy them all meals and drinks. Loosen their tongues a bit."

  "When?"

  "I have that dress fitting." She bit at her lower lip and tilted her head. "Unless you wanted to sit there and watch me undress?"

  "Can't say that I have a fondness for looking at naked women while surrounded by a group of others. Also can't say that any sane man would pass up the chance to see the Princess of Norihame in all of her glory."

  She wrinkled her nose and tried to pull away, but he held her tight. Instead she stuck her tongue out at him. "As if you're hurting for attention."

  "Do that again, and I will bite it."

  Beneath his hands, he felt her suck in a breath. Her breasts rose, her heart beat faster, and her eyes found his. For a moment neither of them moved, waiting for one of them to make the decision. There he was, with his arms wrapped around her, leaning as far across that line as he could. He'd be a fool to cross it. She could never be his lover. She certainly couldn't be his wife. Unfortunately, he'd be an even bigger fool if he did nothing.

  Leyli turned in his arms. "Tristan..."

  His hand caught the side of her face. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry, pup."

  She jerked her head away, looking over to the flowers. Inside, he cursed himself. He should have just kissed her. Just shut his damned mouth and pressed it against hers. The last time, she'd melted into him. For that moment, Leyli had been all his, and he'd never forget how that felt. He'd spent weeks thinking it would be his last happy memory, yet here he was, trying not to do it again.

  "This is where I used to dance." Changing the subject, she pulled away from him, moving another step over for the roses. "It's where I came when I wanted to be happy."

  "Ley," he said softly.

  She shook her head, keeping him at bay. "I don't want to get married, Tristan. I just want to go back in time and dance in the roses. I want to stop caring about what I'm wearing, who is looking, and what everyone expects of me. I just want to kick off my shoes and pretend like the thorns in my feet are proof that I'm trying."

  "You're not trying, you're succeeding."

  "No I'm not!" she hissed, pressing her hands to her mouth. For a moment he watched her chest heave, her breasts straining at her neckline. "Don't you get it?" She turned, and he saw her big eyes glistening in the darkness. "I'm just putting on an act for the crowd. I'm faking all of this, because it's what I have to do."

  "Yeah." He moved closer, reaching for her arm to pull her hand down. "Me, too, pup. I'm trying so hard to do this right, and I kinda feel like I'm making a mess of it."

  "You're not."

  The last step put his chest right against hers. He leaned to meet her eyes. "Oh, I am. I'm trying so hard to stay on my side of this line, but all the dancing scuffs it, making it hard to be sure exactly where it is, but I don't dare cross it."

  "Why?" she whispered. "No one has to know."

  "I'll know." His hand moved to the back of her head almost of it's own volition, holding her face up to his. "I'm real good at killing people, but I'm shit at pretending like I don't care."

  "I need you, Tristan. I can't do this without you." The longing in her voice pulled at him.

  He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "I can't do anything without you. I need to take care of you, Ley. It's enough."

  "It's not."

  He shook his head in agreement. "It's really not, but it's all I have. I'm trying to ignore it, but it's not easy."

  Slowly, her tongue moved across her lower lip. "When do we get to stop bending?"

  "When we win."

  "When?" she insisted. "When will that happen? When do we get to stop caring which face we show the world and just be us? When do we get to..."

  He felt himself leaning, but this time didn't stop. "Maybe in our next life."

  Then his mouth brushed hers. She didn't gasp. She didn't flinch. Her lips met his like they belonged there and caressed back, the tip of her tongue flicking across his. He caught it, sucking it into his mouth to slide against his own, and felt her body relax into him.

  Soft fabric and hard muscle, she fit there, filling the spaces with her curves. His hand pulled her closer, holding her head to him, and his other arm slid down her back, stopping at the swell of her hips. Here,
in the darkness of the palace garden, there was no one to laugh at what he was doing. No one would know except her, and he wasn't that big of a fool. He couldn't have her forever, but he had to know that the first time was real. He had to prove to himself that behind all those court manners was a woman who saw him as more than just a bull.

  When she pressed into his pelvis, he stepped back. "Fuck," he breathed, releasing her, well aware of the tension in his breeches. "I'm a fucking idiot."

  He turned, storming to an alcove across from her, hoping the movement would put his blood back where it belonged. Behind him, the swish of cloth proved she wouldn't just let him run away. In the shadow of some decorative tree, he paused and shoved his hands into his hair, breathing deeply.

  "I'm sorry, pup."

  "I don't want to wait for the next life." Her voice was calm and clear, devoid of the passion tinting his own. "You're not my damned brother."

  "But I'm supposed to be." He turned, not surprised at all to find her staring him down. "I looked your father in the eye and swore to protect you. Not have my way with you. Not rut on you like some bull. You're my life, Leyli."

  "And what the hell do you think you are to me?"

  He leaned closer, his eyes serious. "I have no idea. Not even I can see through the masks you've learned to wear. I'm the Lion of Lenlochlien, and you chose me to keep you safe."

  "No." She stepped right into his face. "I chose you to help me win. I chose you because you're kind, and brave, and all the things a man should be, but so much more." He watched her eyes close, then she nodded to herself. "I chose you, Tristan, because I didn't want to die alone." Slowly her lids lifted. "I still don't, but being surrounded by court doesn't make me any less alone than being thrown onto the sands. I want to win, but I don't want to do it without you."

  "What does that mean, Ley?" he asked softly. "What does that mean for me? Am I just another of your schemes to change the world?"

  She opened her mouth to answer, but the sound of a door opening made it snap shut. At the far end of the garden, Horace said clearly, "Enjoy your evening, my Lord." Then the door closed.