Chapter 8 — Rhiannon
Xander’s rubbing the space between his eyes as I stand before him. “One training session and he’s injured already?”
When I came to his study to report on what had happened, he was in the middle of speaking with several of his seers and preparing for the summit. They’re gone, but probably gathered just outside, listening at the door.
I thought I’d be happy to see Jayme wipe the ground with Ethan’s smug, egotistical face, especially after he said such rude things to me.
But the moment Ethan didn’t get back up, my wolf paced restlessly, whining for me to check on him and then urging me to get him to the infirmary instead of waiting for the medics.
She wasn’t pleased that I ordered Akila to take him and didn’t look after him myself.
But her reaction makes no sense. Why does she care so much?
Apart from that, I feel a sense of vindication, but mostly embarrassment. My job was to make sure Ethan didn’t get hurt.
“He’s only mildly injured, according to Olcan,” I answer Xander, hoping that he isn’t too upset. “Nothing a day or two of rest won’t cure.”
A knot forms in my stomach as I imagine what the others must be thinking.
The whispers that will inevitably follow.
Commander Rhiannon let the Luna’s friend get hurt on his first day.
Some might even suspect that I allowed it to happen deliberately, as petty revenge against Thea.
The thought makes my skin burn with shame.
I would never. Still, perception matters in pack politics, and any hint of internal discord couldn’t come at a worse time with the summit fast approaching.
Xander just looks at me with weary eyes. “How likely is it that he’ll be injured again if he returns to train?”
I can’t lie to him. “Very likely,” I say. “It was a routine exercise, but Jayme—”
“Ah, Jayme. I should have known.”
Dammit. That’s a slip I regret.
Branson and his brother Jayme were Gorg Pack rebels who were meant to back the Shaman during the Moon Curse, but defected beforehand.
The years of brutality they’d endured made adjusting to Kortan hard, and Jayme kept finding trouble.
Xander cautiously granted leniency, letting Jayme join the guard at Branson’s request. I’ve seen remarkable improvement in his anger management since, but even one mistake could create new doubt.
“It wasn’t Jayme’s fault,” I tell Xander, trying to clarify my decision. “Ethan is just . . . well, he’s just human. He’s fragile and untrained in our ways. I’m sure with a little more practice—”
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea anymore,” Xander says in a somber tone. “Thea is over the moon that Ethan is here. It would break her heart if he was irreparably harmed.”
What he’s really saying is clear: You’ve failed at the one task I gave you.
I stand straighter, shoulders back, refusing to show how deeply his implied criticism cuts.
Of course, the Luna’s wishes always come first. She is carrying his heir, after all.
I lead elite guards against fierce enemies, yet couldn’t protect one fragile human during a training session. The irony stings.
“I believe that if he becomes conditioned for battle, he may do well,” I offer. “Or at least well enough for his kind.”
Xander regards me, his brow knitting together in contemplation, “Do you really believe that?”
Do I?
I pause, choosing my next words carefully. “Well. . .I believe that if he’s still willing after this, then we should allow him to try.”
He nods slowly. “All right. I will defer to your judgment. But please watch out for him. If he can’t handle it, get him out of there immediately. We’ll put him on the housekeeping staff until we hear back from the Alpha King if we have to.”
“Understood, My Lord.” I nod and take my leave.
The idea of Ethan cleaning the floors of the fortress should be appealing, but it isn’t. It would mean that I failed as Commander to train him properly, and failed to complete the direct orders of my Alpha and Luna.
First rejected as Xander’s mate, now failing as his Commander of the Guard. These disappointments must be intertwined, as if my unworthiness to become Luna portended my inability to lead. I wonder if Xander sees it too. Does he regret putting his trust in me?
I push those thoughts away before they can take root. I can’t afford such weakness, not when I have a pack to protect and a human to keep alive.
After two weeks, I’m back into the rhythm of my work. Or at least, I’m trying to get back into it.
Lady Gemma received word from the Alpha King yesterday. Though I haven’t seen the letter myself, she made it crystal clear that he’s displeased with our “human situation.” Still, Ethan is allowed to stay through the summit, after which he will reevaluate.
What surprises me most is the wave of relief I felt knowing the Alpha King didn’t order Ethan’s execution.
If I’m being honest, I’m beginning to admire him a little.
Perhaps it’s because he’s so willing to prove that he can survive here.
Thus far, I’ve been true to my word to Xander that as long as Ethan wants to keep training, I will support it.
Despite the scrapes he’s suffered and how often he needs to see Olcan, Ethan keeps coming back and joining the fray.
Human or not, I like his tenacity.
As a bonus, his human physiology has proven to be a good tool for teaching control to the newer trainees.
Particularly Jayme. I’ve noticed he’s putting more thought into his moves before executing them.
He’s also been committed to joining Branson during his morning walks.
I’ve even seen them drinking Blackroot tea and meditating in the garden behind the Great Hall.
It gives me hope that Jayme can be rehabilitated.
Still, the ghosts of my own past linger.
Yesterday morning, I walked by a collection of nobles – young mothers watching over their whelps as they played in the courtyard.
The moment I came into earshot, their voices softened, and they all turned their attention towards me.
They offered smiles and respectful bows of their heads, but they remained quiet until I was well past them and then the discussions started right back up again.
It’s obvious what they’re doing and I hate it. I can’t do anything except focus on my job, but every day that gets harder to do.
I’m currently lying wide-awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling. In the quiet of my room, it seems like the snickering whispers are as loud as screams. I swear I can hear their judgment through the very walls.
Enough of this. If I’m going to be awake, I might as well work through my anxiety on the training grounds.
I get up and dress before making my way through the moonlit night to the empty training grounds.
I start practicing some of my forms. The dust kicks up under my feet.
The air moves with my fists and swirls around me as I confront imaginary attackers.
And before I know it, my mind shifts back into the past.
We were enjoying a few precious minutes stolen from a day like any other. Just us, wrapped in a cocoon of peace while the daily chaos churned outside the room. Xander’s mother came in and wanted to talk to him, so I left.
Thinking about it hurts. Still.
That was the moment my life fractured in two: Before Thea, and After Thea.
When I saw him again, he’d become someone else. An Alpha summoned by the Moon Goddess to fulfill a destiny with another woman for the survival of his pack.
When I dig deeper, I realize that I’m not angry at him or Thea. It’s never been about them.
I was so sure he was the one. Everything just fell into place so easily. It all made sense back then. And now that I know we weren’t meant to be...
I stop, out of breath, eyes burning with tears. Where does that leave me?
Being Xander’s mate and becoming his Luna wasn’t part of the Moon Goddess’ plan, but what is? Is my purpose to serve as an Alpha’s Commander, and that’s it? Perhaps the Moon Goddess doesn’t intend for me to find love. Love is a liability that could jeopardize my duty to safeguard my pack.
“Don’t stop on my account.”
I whirl around, startled. Ethan is standing near the entrance to the training grounds. He’s shirtless, his top draped over his arm, his well-defined chest covered in bruises. Some old and faded, some new with deepening redness.
In the light of the moon above us, I can still tell how tan his skin has gotten from all the training he’s been doing outdoors. Somehow, the combination of the moon on his skin almost makes him look ethereal, as though he’s stepped out of some heavenly place.
He smiles at me in that way that always strikes a chord inside me. Its vibration lasts like an echo in my bones. I look away quickly, acutely aware of the water in my eyes.
“What are you doing out here?” I say, wiping the tears away.
He doesn’t respond.
I look at him. His smile is gone, and his eyes are studying my face.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he finally says. “Thought I’d get a little practice in.”
I try to laugh, try to make myself seem disarming. “Same here. It’s been a long week.”
He just nods and starts toward me. He hasn’t said anything yet about my crying, but his brow is wrinkled with concern. I’m not in the mood to be questioned right now.
“Want to drill me on what we learned today?” he asks instead.
I tilt my head. Surely he can see . . . Of course he can. Now he’s just playing games with me. “You’re not going to ask me what’s wrong? I know you can tell. There’s no point in pretending.”
He shrugs. “A woman who comes out here alone in the middle of the night to cry doesn’t exactly read like someone who wants to talk.”
I can’t believe he’s not willing to show off his little party trick right now. He’s been so arrogant about it before. I’m sure it gives him pleasure to see me so unraveled. I roll my eyes at him, and he sighs.
“Just because I’m perceptive,” he says, “doesn’t mean I have to pry. Besides, maybe I’ve got shit going on too, you know? Maybe you’re not the only one who needs to blow off some steam.”
“All right.” I take a step back from him. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
I start to walk away, but he says, “You really gonna leave me out here all by myself?”
I look over my shoulder at him just in time to see his languid smile. There’s that chord ringing within me again. “Okay, I’ll stay,” I say. “But only for a few minutes. You really should be resting.”
He tosses his shirt to the side. “Yes, Commander.”
I watch his muscles flex as he takes his stance. They’ve begun to adapt, developing new definition from the constant training. My wolf practically purrs deep within me.
Stop it, Rhiannon. Focus.
And so we begin. I start showing him one of the new forms that I introduced earlier that morning, beginning with a wide stance, my body turned sideways to him.
The goal, or so I’ve been trying to teach him, isn’t to strike me first, but to defend once he’s on the ground.
Ethan’s been having a hard time with it, given the degree of strength the other wolves have over him.
“Remember,” I say as I put my hands up defensively. “Once I take you down, use the momentum to pull me down with you.”
He nods and steps into his opening stance.
He throws a punch. I weave, deflecting and countering by stepping toward him and using his forward momentum to toss him over my hip and into the dirt.
He lands with a hard thump, and for a second, I think that I might’ve hurt him.
But he gets right back up, and we try it again.
His recovery is quicker than it was just a week ago. His stance is tighter, his weight distributed more effectively. He’s making progress that shouldn’t stir this strange flutter of pride in my chest.
He’s just another trainee, and most likely a temporary one at that. I shouldn’t be getting wrapped up in his personal growth. Just keep him alive. That’s the assignment.
The second time I flip him, he stays on the ground for a few seconds.
Shit. I’ve definitely hurt him this time.
Closing the distance between us, a surge of concern rushes through me, stronger than it should be for a simple training exercise. My wolf stirs, unhappy at the thought of him injured.
Don’t be ridiculous, I scold her. He’s fine. He’s been thrown harder than this countless times.
I’m practically holding my breath until I confirm he’s unharmed. I force my expression to remain neutral, burying the concern beneath a display of professional detachment.
I offer him a hand. “Let me help—”
He grabs my arm and yanks, catching me off guard. I lose my footing immediately and fall on top of him. He rolls me over until he’s on top, pinning me down.
An unexpected bubble of laughter erupts from my chest. “That wasn’t fair!”
“Nothing’s fair in war,” he responds. “Your words.”
The moonlight catches a little of the shine in his eyes as he laughs with me. They’re jade green, like the color of the finest jewels. The heat from his body is bearing down on me as we both catch our breath, along with his particularly comforting and warm scent.
Goddess, I forgot about that. That’s a habit I’ve been trying to form lately, ignoring how good he smells to me. I can usually put it out of my mind until I catch a whiff on the breeze or he happens to be standing somewhere too close to my personal space. My inner wolf whines with interest.
What’s happening right now?
His ever-present, boyish smile fades, and now, our eyes are locked.
His gaze runs over my face, down my body, and back up again.
The scrutiny should irritate me, but instead, my skin flushes hot beneath his stare.
Blood rushes between my ears, and for the first time since Xander, a telltale heat blooms throughout my core, settling low in my belly.
He lowers himself down to me, his mouth approaching mine.
I imagine his hands pinning my wrists to the ground, his sweat-slicked body moving against every curve of mine, taking what he wants.
My body wants him. My wolf needs him . . .
“Stop.” The word barely leaves my lips. He freezes, inches from my lips. “Please.”
He obeys, sitting up and getting off me. We climb to our feet, and he says, “Sorry, I—”
“Don’t— don’t apologize.” I step away from him, my mind fluttering with confusion. I don’t know what that was, but I can’t stay here.
Every muscle in my body fights against my retreat. Each step away from him requires deliberate effort, as though I’m slogging through mud. My wolf is practically whimpering in protest, urging me to turn around, to go back to him. The physical pull is so strong it frightens me.
I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but I can’t let it happen. The last time I allowed myself to feel something for someone, another woman took my place. And it’s not lost on me that Ethan is her human.
I walk away in a daze, leaving him there, unable to form words.
Behind me, the training ground is silent except for the whisper of the night breeze, carrying his scent away from me even as my wolf yearns to turn back.