Under the Wolf's Shadow

by A. Katie Rose

  Kel’Ratan muttered under his breath as he, too, dismounted from his bay. “What the bloody hell is he doing here?”

  I caught Rygel’s questioning glance as the Kel’Hallan warriors swung down from their stallions to arrange their clothing and smooth their hair. Witraz combed a few snarl’s from his piebald’s mane as Joker laughed and deliberately snarled the horse’s tail with his teeth.

  “Quit that,” Witraz snapped under his breath.

  “So a father rides out to greet his daughter,” I said, eyeing the frenzy around me. “Where’s the problem?”

  “My father,” Ly’Tana snapped. “That’s the problem.”

  Arianne shrugged, also baffled by the Kel’Hallans’ behavior. At her flank, Corwyn sat his ugly roan and shaded his eyes to better see the newcomers. White Fang yawned and sat down to scratch an itch at his ruff. His red roan pinned his ears and glared at him, but made no other annoyed move.

  Bar and Feria, squabbling like a pair of irritated cats, dropped to the earth beside Mikk and Tashira and furled their wings. At Ly’Tana’s sharp tone, they ceased their endless arguments and watched with wide raptor eyes. Like everyone else on our long journey, I’d gotten quite tired of their constant bickering. Only when I, or Ly’Tana, bellowed at them to cease and desist would they sulk in wonderful, blessed silence for a time before chewing on one another’s tails again. Every one of us, Ly’Tana included, would have gladly cut their throats if given half an opportunity. Their hate for one another wore on the nerves.

  At Tashira’s side, Tuatha gazed up, his sapphire eyes curious. Almost a year old, Tuatha stood larger than any wolf save Silverruff, Little Bull and Thunder. He had already outsized Shadow and Nahar, and, while lanky and ungainly, still had room to grow. His sleek jet coat rippled when he moved, his sharp fangs white against his dark face as he panted lightly.

  “If that’s Ma’s father,” he asked, “what do I call him?”

  “Your Majesty,” Ly’Tana replied in clipped tones, also arranging her leather skirt and her hair. “Not that he’d understand you, anyway.”

  Ly’Tana glared around at me, Rygel, Arianne and Corwyn. “Get down, all of you,” she gritted. “He’ll expect you to kneel.”

  Arianne glanced down at the tawny gown she wore, a gift from Li’s wives. “In this? Surely you jest.”

  I crossed my leg across Tashira’s withers, as I hadn’t yet gotten a saddle for him. “Why such a bother, my love?”

  Ly’Tana glanced from the rider of the pale horse to me and back again, worry and anxiety knitting her brow. “He’s just–he’s not that easy to get along with.”

  “He’s a bloody despot,” Kel’Ratan muttered.

  Ly’Tana rounded on him. “That’s not right,” she snapped. “He’s a fair and just ruler.”

  “To everyone except you.”

  Ly’Tana’s hair hid her face. Arianne apparently dropped the habit only to have Ly’Tana pick it up. I sighed, turning to watch the bloody despot ride closer. Like Ly’Tana, King Gareth’s hair glowed red-gold with streaks of silver. It blew around his heavy shoulders, his head bare of any crown or kingly ornamentation. The gold torque about his neck appeared his only nod toward his royal status, and he wore, like Kel’Ratan, a leather vest and breeches. A thick red-silver mustache, like Kel’Ratan’s, drooped past his mouth. Blue eyes, not green, lined with years of squinting into the sun gleamed in his young-old face.

  Not yet fifty, he still looked fit and hale, his head held proudly and his hand on his reins still sure. Girt with both bow and sword, a quiver bristling with arrows hung at his pommel. A warrior king: prepared and able to defend his people.

  His pale grey horse slid on her haunches at his lightest touch on her reins, his warriors halting in a disorganized mass around him. His lightning glance took in us all, from me still seated, indolently, on Tashira’s bare back, to his warriors dropping to kneel in the grass. He kept his thoughts inside his head as he finally glanced at Ly’Tana. She dropped to her knee and bowed her head.

  “So my wayward daughter finally comes home,” he said, his tone flat.

  Immediately, I knew why the Kel’Hallans fretted so. He would forgive them anything. He forgave Ly’Tana nothing.

  “Father.”

  Ly’Tana’s tone held not just respect for her king and her sire, but fear as well. Not just for her own well-being, but for that of her followers. She’d accept any and all blame he might cast down and protect them with everything she possessed.

  “You made a right hash of a simple marriage proposal,” King Gareth said blandly. “All you had to do was marry the man and bear an heir or two. How hard was that?”

  “He’d have killed her,” Kel’Ratan said, his tone firm although, he, too, spoke from his knee. “Your Majesty.”

  “You idiot,” Gareth snapped. “Do you think I’d have permitted that? Lionel and I made plans.”

  “Plans that included getting me killed?” Ly’Tana asked, her voice low and hard.

  “Oh, please,” Gareth sneered. “I knew Brutal for what he was. Lionel did as well.”

  I stared at him. “You know what has happened?”

  “Of course,” he growled, his blue eyes fastened on me. “I’ve known all along, ever since you and that blond moron you call a brother murdered Lionel. You two together in one moment unraveled years of careful negotiation.”

  “Just what did you negotiate?”

  Despite the stubborn glare he tried to skewer me with, Gareth answered honestly. “Lionel knew bloody well his eldest son would turn Khalid upside down and sideways,” he replied, his tone still sharp. “He planned for Brutal to have an ‘accident’, a fatal one.”

  “He’d murder his own son?” Ly’Tana asked, awed.

  “Distasteful, I know,” Gareth replied with a heavy shrug. “But he already committed the sin of murder on his own father. Thus killing his firstborn was as nothing. But as Brutal had many friends, Lionel had to tread carefully.”

  “That was why he looked so happy when he thought I killed Brutal,” I murmured.

  “Indeed. He’d a handy slave to blame and he didn’t even have to engineer it. His hands, so to speak, were clean.”

  “Then what, uncle?” Kel’Ratan asked.

  “Don’t ‘uncle’ me, boy,” Gareth snarled, his fierce anger now on Kel’Ratan. “I sent you along to keep her out of trouble, not permit her to romp free in it.”

  Kel’Ratan shut his teeth and glared at the ground before him.

  “Lionel would have wed his second son, a much better candidate for the throne, to you,” Gareth said, his tone slightly calmer. “We’d have the alliance we needed, daughter, and you reigning queen over it all. Oh, get up, Ly’Tana. You know how much I hate it when you grovel.”

  Ly’Tana rose from her knees, yet refused to look at her father.

  “Then I mucked it up,” Rygel said.

  “Indeed you did, bastard,” Gareth replied, scowling darkly. “Brutal wasn’t supposed to inherit and now look at him. He’s chasing down any heir to any kingdom not in his empire. It’s a bloody good thing his brothers sparked a rebellion or his armies would be camped on my doorstep right now.”

  His gaze softened as he glanced around and sighed. “Nearly every petty kingdom in his empire has risen against him. He’ll be busy for many years, I suppose. Who knows, maybe Brutal’s head will decorate a lance and end our troubles forever.”

  Rygel and I glanced at one another. “Just how did you know all this, Your Majesty?” I asked.

  Ly’Tana dared to look up at me, as did Arianne, Corwyn and lastly Kel’Ratan. Of the warriors behind me, I sensed their anxious, questioning eyes, their rising curiosity. Their wolves sat silent, worried, hackles half-raised along their spines.

  “I’ve been watching ever since she and my nephew rode away,” Gareth replied, glowering. “I know everything that’s transpired. Which means–”

  He scowled at his daughter. “You fell for this brainless hulk here rather than remembe
r your duty. Kel’Halla means less to you than this escaped slave.”

  Ly’Tana’s temper flared. “Now wait a minute–”

  “Don’t deny it,” Gareth sneered. “You go gallivanting across the world, consorting with wolves, dragons, saving this idiot you love from hell and neglect your duty to your king and country.”

  “Who watched for you, King Gareth?” Rygel asked, still aboard Shardon. “Anyone I know?”

  Shardon stepped forward, half-shielding Ly’Tana. I slid down from Tashira’s broad back, catching his worried eye. I offered him the briefest of nods, silently ordering him to relax. At my hip, my son paced forward with me, his spine ridged, prepared for battle. I put my hand on his head, silently commanding him to remain still. He sat on his haunches, his tongue caught between his closed fangs.

  Behind Gareth, his warriors sat still and silent, never reaching for a weapon. I knew the king had ordered them to stand down and not interfere. That told me this battle was emotional: father against daughter.

  And the only casualty of this fight? Ly’Tana’s heart.

  “I have my means, wizard,” Gareth snarled, glaring blue fire at Rygel.

  Whether at a pre-arranged signal or just the right moment, a single rider nudged its mount from the rear of the disorganized column of Kel’Hallan warriors. The light chestnut gelding walked forward to halt at Gareth’s side. Pale slender hands pushed back the hood covering its head.

  Rygel paled, choking on a curse.

  “Is that how you greet an old friend, Rygel?”

  Corn silk pale hair cascaded down the woman’s black cloak. Bright brown eyes, thick with dark lashes, captured my brother within their depths. Skin like milk and lips the color of ripe strawberries smiled like the sun arriving after a winter storm. A dainty tilt to those luscious lips said we-know-better-don’t-we.

  I stilled the hand that asked to smack her into next week.

  “Ehlenora,” Rygel whispered, aghast.

  “Ah, so you do remember me. I feared you’d forgotten me the minute you ran away.”

  Rygel shut his teeth and turned his face away. “You know why I left.”

  Ehlenora shrugged. “I didn’t care. I’d have married you, prince, bastard or the get of some whore. I wanted only you.”

  Silverruff leaned toward me. “Just how many girlfriends does Rygel have?”

  “Too many,” Arianne snapped, her grey-blue eyes furious and fastened on her rival.

  Seated on Rufus’s broad rump, Shirel hissed, her golden eyes flat. Black ears canted back, her tail swished back and forth against the bay’s flank. She growled low in her throat.

  Ehlenora’s gaze riveted upon my irritated sister. “I see you found one to replace me. Not bad, not bad at all. I can see the attraction.” She smiled. “At least you have some taste, my dear ex-betrothed.”

  I swiveled on my feet. “Your what?”

  Rygel cut his eyes away. “Before I was, er, disinherited, Ehlenora and I were to wed. I couldn’t visualize, with her rank and connections, Ehlenora marrying beneath her.

  “Nor,” he added, cocking his eye at the woman, “did I believe she loved me. She thought she was marrying a crown.”

  The blonde lady stiffened. “You’re a bloody boor. We may have been marrying to please our families, but I’d have been a good wife to you.”

  “Don’t forget queen,” Rygel added dryly.

  “Even as a bastard prince,” she snarled, “you had standing and a good position in your brother’s court. Then, coward, you cut and run. You didn’t offer me a fare thee well much less a choice. This one has a throne to offer.”

  Her blue eyes flicked toward me. “Should her impressive brother predecease her, anyway. Still, the sister of the King of Connacht has more power and influence than I, as a royal duchess, might ever offer. If His Highness wins his throne, that is.”

  “I didn’t intend to fall in love,” Rygel replied.

  “Of course not,” Ehlenora cooed. “Men never do. They leave that part up to the ones who love them. Disappointing, isn’t it?”

  “That’s enough, I think,” Gareth said. “Through Ehlenora’s magic, I watched everything. You, my daughter, turned your back on your duty.”

  Ly’Tana dropped her eyes to the ground though her shoulders trembled. “You saw everything.”

  “I did,” Gareth replied, his tone aggrieved. “Brutal could never get Kel’Halla even if he had married and murdered you. I’d have denied his contract and claim.”

  “I’m supposed to know this?”

  Ly’Tana tossed her thick hair from her face. “You knew, yet left me floundering in the dark? I tried to save my life, and keep Kel’Halla from Brutal’s grasp. I kept Kel’Halla’s freedom from his tyranny at the expense of Alun and many others. Yet, all that shed blood was not enough, could never be enough. You taught me loyalty and honor at your knee. You yourself taught me to never leave a man behind. For adhering to those very ideals, I’m derided and condemned. Thanks, Father, now I know what I fought to keep intact.”

  All life froze at her words. Her warriors, and those behind King Gareth, stilled as though struck through the heart with lances. The wolves, understanding the emotional battle between father and daughter, sat silent. Bar, in the midst of glaring at Feria, suddenly gaped, his black-tipped ears slack. Arianne shook her head as Rygel grinned, rapidly covering his mouth with his fingers. Tuatha, alone, growled low in his throat.

  Gareth suddenly grinned. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

  Ly’Tana floundered, bewildered, catching my eye for a brief instant. “Excuse me?”

  “I also taught you how to be a leader and how to fight for not only the rights of others,” Gareth said, dropping his reins to his mare’s neck and sliding down to the ground, “but also your own. Until this moment, you’ve never stood up to me. You always doubted yourself, my dear child. You knew what the right thing to do was, even if it meant challenging me. Yet you never could. I wanted you to, I needed you to. The Ly’Tana that rode away to Khalid never came back. My true daughter did. She came home at last.”

  Ly’Tana lifted her hand to her brow. “I am sooo confused.”

  “So am I,” said Tuatha.

  “Me three,” muttered Arianne.

  “Come and give your old man a hug,” Gareth said, stepping toward her and opening his arms. Tears finally brimming, Ly’Tana walked into them and allowed him to embrace her.

  Past their heads, I watched Rygel and Ehlenora eye one another with open animosity.

  “Your brother sends his regards,” she said, her voice low after casting a fleet glance toward the reunited father and daughter.

  Kel’Ratan rose from his knee, as did the other warriors. While they didn’t exactly breathe sighs of relief, they did find smiles and waves for the warriors in the King’s party. Now that Gareth seemed over his anger, Witraz, Rannon, Yuri, and Yuras left their horses and walked through the grass. Joker, Shadow, Scatters Them and Warrior Dog trotted alongside, tails high and wolfish grins abounding.

  Tor and Kip held back until Yuras glanced over his shoulder. With a grin, he flung his arm around Tor’s broad shoulders and propelled him toward his waiting people. As Tor was now one of them, I surmised, ‘twas proper he should be treated as such.

  A woman, dressed in similar fashion as Ly’Tana in a leather vest and short skirt dropped from her piebald horse and flung herself into Witraz’s arms. The lady who took his eye, I thought, amused, as the couple kissed and laughed under the spring sunlight.

  Witraz’s lady, like her warrior brothers, bent to Joker and the other wolves with delight and laughter. The wolves responded in kind. They licked hands, waved tails, and danced on light paws. I watched them, all blooded warriors behaving with the exuberance of children, and half-wondered at the power my wolves had over humankind.

  “Your brother awaits you at home,” Ehlenora said.

  “My half-brother,” Rygel corrected, regaining my attention.

  Little
Bull sat down in front of Shardon, his ears brushing the silver Tarbane’s neck. Though he made no threat, his imposing size and position of protection sent a very clear message. You raise a hand to him, you lose but big.

  Ehlenora eyed him with some distaste. “His Majesty commands you return to our homeland immediately and take up your duties.”

  Rygel negligently propped his knee over his pommel. “I serve a king,” he replied quietly. “But that king isn’t Rhys.”

  Ehlenora turned that disdainful eye on me. “What? A runaway slave? He doesn’t have the brains to fight a war and regain a throne. You’re much better off returning home and bending the knee to King Rhys. He’ll forgive your treachery in an instant.”

  “Treachery?” Rygel’s brow rose.

  “You actually loved this harpy?”

  Arianne’s entry into the drama startled not just me, but also Lady Ehlenora. As Rufus marched forward, Darkhan and Ghost flanking him, he pinned his ears at the chestnut gelding. That poor beast fell back immediately, forcing her to gather her reins and fight to keep her seat.

  “Whoa, damn you,” she muttered.

  Rygel smothered a grin and coughed. “Well, ‘loved’ isn’t quite the word I’d use.”

  “Begone with you,” Arianne ordered Ehlenora, her tone sharp, the steel in her spine rivaling Ly’Tana’s. “Go away before I get angry.”

  “Don’t think you can order me, bitch,” Ehlenora snapped.

  “You heard Her Highness,” I said, my tone mild. “She’s in a snit and you know how royal ladies are when they get into snits.”

  “You can’t send me away,” Ehlenora gasped. “I’m in the employ of King Gareth.”

  I eyed Gareth and Ly’Tana talking and laughing quietly together, Kel’Ratan encroaching on the conversation. The King’s hand reached out and seized Kel’Ratan’s shoulder to pull him in, his hand clasping Kel’Ratan’s neck with affection.

  “His Majesty is busy,” I said. “Run home to Khassart and inform King Rhys that Rygel won’t be joining him just now.”

  “Do you think it wise to make an enemy of me, gai-tan?” she hissed, her cornflower blue eyes snapping with suppressed rage.