Chapter 6 A Warrior’s Heart, Coward’s Mind
CHAPTER SIX
A WARRIORS HEART, COWARD’S MIND
Brune shifted on his feet, trying to keep the blood flowing. Falling asleep was a hazard of guard duty, especially when there was nothing but darkness to look at. He sighed, trying to focus on his duties.
This time it wasn’t the exhaustion or the boredom, it was quite the opposite. He felt like his heart was racing. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get the events of the night before out of his mind.
He hadn’t spent much time considering what the Clansmen would be like.
Perhaps that was a mistake, but he highly doubted anything he could have conjured in his mind would be close to reality.
They were so unique. From the way, they disregarded secondary gender to the informality of their military structure.
But the strangest thing of all was that they weren’t strange at all.
Even with his quick glimpse around the clan, he saw all the things he would see back home—laundry hanging to dry, children peeking around cautious parents.
Save they seemed to be well fed and clean, strip their clothes and the location and they were no different from the people of Kaledonea.
Which brought him back to his ache inducing thoughts.
Why are we here? Folsom said it was for land.
And land the Clansmen had in abundance. Their success could be seen in the camp dogs and cats.
Brune had never seen so many. Back in Kaledonea they were skinny mangy things, if you saw them at all.
Most of them were caught to be eaten. Here they were fat with sleek coats and wagging tails.
Even horses were rare in Kaledonea, only the richest nobles able to afford keeping them.
Perhaps it was Brune’s lack of political sense, but this seemed like a lot of trouble for just some land.
It reminded him of the story he heard as a child—the one where the knight attacked the dragon guarding the princess without stopping to ask why the dragon was there at all.
Wouldn’t it be better to ask the Clansmen for help rather than attack them?
And then there was the missing Tylock prince. General Bargrave seemed to think he was being held against his will, but Chief Restrina said he was given weapons and freedoms. The only time the dominant alpha lost her cool at all was when Bargrave suggested bringing the prince into the fold.
Brune might not know much about politics, or much about anything at all, but he knew when an alpha was defending their pack.
After the officers left, he’d asked Niklas about the missing prince.
He said he hadn’t even known he was gone.
King Krait said he left for an education and the household staff never questioned it.
No one did. The prince’s mother had long since died and his only sibling had been married off for an alliance or some such.
But to find that he’s been here, possibly for a while, and King Krait is just now coming for him?
Brune could understand fighting for a child, but it all seemed so…
strange. And there was discomfort growing in his stomach over it.
Back when he was just running drills and trying not to upset officers, he didn’t care about the whys.
He was getting fed. He had a bed and a roof. It was all he could ask for.
But now he was looking at war. A full-blown battle where people will lose their lives, and for what? Land? Food? A missing prince no one even knew was gone?
His younger self would be kicking him in the shins for thinking this way. Food! Comfort! That was all that mattered. Or at least, it did. Now he wasn’t so sure. Now he wondered if he was going to be standing on the right side of the battlefield.
Was he ready to stand beside General Bargrave? To take up arms on his say? Yesterday he was. But after meeting Chief Restrina, he wasn’t so sure.
She was everything he’d been told an alpha should be. She didn’t need to posture or flap a fancy cloak, hell she didn’t even need to hold a weapon. There was lethality in her muscles, intelligence in her eyes, and a surprising softness beneath it all.
Brune dwarfed her in size and yet he knew, without a doubt, that he would submit to her.
She was the alpha he could only dream of being.
On those long nights where he huddled on the curb, too afraid to sleep because the leather he’d chewed on earlier wasn’t nearly enough to fill his cramping stomach, he would look up at the crumbling walls and wonder what kind of alpha he would be.
Would he be strong? Would he be smart? Would he be kind?
He wasn’t any of those things. But neither was General Bargrave, nor his battalion commander. In fact, he didn’t know many alphas that were. Glancing down at the chipped blade on his hip, he wondered if he would ever get the chance.
Niklas jerked beside him, and he looked up, eyes narrowing in the gloom. After a long moment, the shadows of the fire behind them coalesced across a person walking out of the darkness.
Withdrawing his sword, he dropped into a defensive position before the person's features materialized.
The man was tall and slender, hair hanging over pale eyes. His strides were assured, right hand resting on one of two swords he had strapped to his hips. Wearing leather pants, a thick belt, and a loose linen shirt, he was clearly a Clansmen.
Clenching his fingers around the hilt of his sword, Brune stepped forward. “Halt!”
Those cool eyes swept over him. “My name is Corric Tylock. I would like a meeting with General Bargrave to negotiate the terms of my surrender.”
Brune’s mouth dropped open. A quick glance at his partner confirmed that Niklas was pale, eyes wide. Turning back to the intruder, he had to admit he had the unique air of nobility. He’d never seen King Krait, but everyone knew about his distinctive eyes.
This man had them. Who else would claim to be the prince? And that man, Osmond, said he was a fine swordsman. Judging by this man’s lethal grace and the fine blades at his side, he was indeed skilled.
“If you are the prince,” Brune started. “Why would you come to surrender?”
Corric swallowed, lifting his chin. “I will not have bloodshed on my account.”
That made Brune lower his sword. He remembered the flash of fang Chief Restrina showed at the mere notion of Corric being in the same room as General Bargrave. And now he wanted to surrender?
General Bargrave said he was promised the prince.
The general had a reputation, one only spoken in hushed whispers by cowed alphas and fearful betas and omegas.
His harem was ever expanding, not because he was wealthy enough to house them, but because they often didn’t survive long.
Rumor around the barracks was that Bargrave had retired, so they were surprised to see him leading a march.
The man had enough wealth and prestige to quietly live out his days.
It made no sense as to why he had marched back into service.
Unless King Krait was going to give him something. Something more than money.
Looking past the prince’s cool exterior, Brune saw his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. Not as a threat, but to keep it from trembling. His eyes were wide, scent carefully hidden. It probably reeked of fear.
“You know they’ll give you to him,” he whispered, ignoring the shocked look Niklas shot at him. “Bargrave he…you don’t know what he’ll do to you.”
Corric’s lips tightened into a thin line. “I do know.”
“Then why–”
“I told you,” His voice wavered slightly. “The people of the Stone Blade took me in. They housed me, educated me, fed me. They gave me everything. And I will not be the reason they lose their lives.”
Brune’s questions were finally answered. Corric wasn’t a captive. He was given fine swords and freedom. A pack. A home. And now he was here to die for it. Or worse.
But…could he stop the battle before it even began? Could Brune take this prince, this sacrifice for the greater good, to General Bargrave and spare the Clansmen, and his fellow soldiers, lives? Wouldn’t that be the right thing to do?
“I’m not here to argue with sentries,” Corric snapped, his bravado a thin shield for his anxiety. “Either take me to General Bargrave or step aside.”
Brune parted his lips to speak, but found he had nothing to say. He didn’t know what to do. Neither decision felt right.
Corric huffed and made to step between them when Niklas cracked his sword hilt down on the prince’s head. The omega crumpled to the ground between them.
They blinked down at the prince.
“I’m sorry!” Niklas squeaked, dropping his sword. “I-I didn’t mean to hurt him, but he was going to—and I didn’t want General Bargrave to—he was so determined!” he rambled, teeth chattering.
Brune couldn’t breathe. “Did you just…did you just knock the Crown Prince of Kaledonea out?”
Niklas whined, his hands shaking as he bit into his knuckles. “Is he dead?”
Brune checked his breathing. “No…no he’s alive…” which probably won’t make a difference when they’re being skewered. On the bright side, both the Clansmen and the soldiers might finally unite under the goal of killing them.
“What do we do now?” he hissed, looking over his shoulder at the fire behind him. Most of the soldiers appeared to still be asleep.
“We can just…take him back?” Niklas offered.
“Are you insane?” Brune asked, keeping his voice hushed. “What’s it going to look like? An alpha and a beta carrying an unconscious omega between them? They’ll kill us on sight!”
“I obviously didn’t think that far!”
Sheathing his sword, Brune watched the prince’s chest rise and fall. He tried to settle his raging thoughts, keeping his scent from leaking out and giving away his distress.
“He’s really out.”
“I know!”
He snapped his jaw shut, unable to yell at Niklas. Because he had stopped him. He had prevented this omega from a fate far worse than death, and Brune did nothing. Swallowing past bile that tasted a lot like guilt, he crouched to grab under the omega’s arms.