Chapter 12 Greta
Greta
Greta did not dare take her eyes off the king. He did not take his eyes off her. They were brighter than she had ever seen them, as cold and hard as chips of ice. His fingers twitched around the hilt of his sword, like he was thinking about killing her. Killing them both.
Brutal wretch.
Her breath punched out of her, her chest rising and falling in sharp heaves.
She should have known better than to leave Saga unguarded, even for a moment.
She should have known better than to trust the king’s useless gaggle of soldiers to actually follow her orders and keep their distance.
The king was brutal, yes, but she was the fool here.
This was her mess. Her fault.
She raised her chin, finding strength in the flood of her adrenaline. ‘Please, just listen to me,’ she said, calmly. ‘I will explain.’
The snow leopard let out a strangled mewl.
Greta’s heart ached as the thrum of Saga’s anxiety brushed up against her own.
She scented the acrid tang of her terror, and feared the creature might bolt any second, likely right into the king’s sword.
She turned her face into the leopard’s fur and hummed, low and soft to settle her panic.
‘It’s all right,’ she murmured. ‘I’ve got you. ’
The leopard snuffled, then fell still. When Greta looked back at the king he was staring at her as though he had never seen her before.
‘What are you doing?’ he said, in a low voice.
‘Wrangling,’ said Greta, keeping her voice soft. ‘She’s frightened.’
‘Imagine how my soldiers feel.’
‘That’s not my job.’
His nostrils flared. ‘What did you just say?’
She swallowed, thickly. ‘I’m here to take care of your beasts. Not your soldiers.’
‘You’re here to tame my beasts,’ he barked. ‘Not set them on my soldiers.’
Greta’s eyes flashed, her words coming fast and sharp. ‘Your soldiers set themselves on her!’
‘Enough,’ he hissed. ‘Get up, Iversen. I won’t ask you again.’
Greta quailed as the heat of his anger rolled against her.
His jaw clenched the same moment as his fist, the sword rising over her.
She had pushed him too far, protected one beast only to corner another.
If she wasn’t careful, he really would strike her.
And she did not wish to die here in the dirt.
She would not let her temper destroy the fate of her family.
‘I will get up, Your Majesty,’ she said, a plea in her voice. ‘But when I do, please let me return Saga to her pen.’
‘You are in no position to bargain with me, wrangler.’ He flicked his sword, gesturing at her to hurry up. ‘That beast will be meeting the swift point of this blade before she can do any more damage.’
Panic flared inside Greta. Sensing the shift in her mood, the leopard released a rasping cry.
‘There’s been a terrible misunderstanding.’ Greta sat up, still using her body as a shield.
‘Of what sort?’ sneered the king. ‘Did your pet mistake my soldiers for a sack of feed?’
‘Of course not,’ she snapped, bristling at his tone.
So much for leashing her temper. ‘Saga was protecting her family when those dead-brained oafs you call soldiers barrelled into her pen.’ The king’s eyes widened at her words.
Greta ploughed on. ‘Saga gave birth to cubs this morning. I had to step away briefly, but I left orders that she was not to be disturbed. Her pen should not have been opened.’ She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms. ‘Your soldiers didn’t care to listen to those orders.
They chose not to listen to me. They thought they knew better, so they stormed into her pen anyway and decided to prod at her cubs for their own amusement. ’
Alarik frowned, his gaze flitting over his shoulder to where a group of soldiers were hovering by the treeline, nervously watching their exchange.
‘Perhaps they did not know,’ he muttered.
‘Or perhaps they did not care,’ said Greta, pointedly.
And that was the truth of the matter. She might have garnered the respect of Grinstad’s beasts, but many of its soldiers still looked down on her.
More than once, she had overheard them talking about her in the hut.
They thought her too weak and too small, too easily startled.
She saw how they stared too long at her scars and knew they passed judgement about her skills as a wrangler because of them.
To most of the king’s soldiers, she was just a lowly farmgirl, flung too far from home. A poor addition to their courtyard and a shoddy replacement for her brother. No, Greta was nothing at all like the brave and fearless Tor Iversen. A man of beast and war.
She brushed it all off. Other people’s opinions never mattered to her. It was the beasts she had come for, the beasts she cared for, but today, the soldiers’ lack of respect for her position had caused unnecessary carnage and she would not let Saga pay for it.
‘If your soldiers possessed even half the sense of a common moth, they would know a mother will always attack to defend her cubs. Especially right after giving birth.’
He cast his eyes at her. ‘You should have told them as much.’
‘What makes you think I didn’t?’ she replied. ‘It’s not my fault they don’t listen to me. I only hope they listen to someone around here. Otherwise, there’s no hope for them on whatever battlefield you find yourself next.’
The king curled his lip. ‘You certainly have a lot of thoughts in your head, Iversen.’
‘Someone around here should,’ she said, before she could stop herself. It was too late now. She might as well go down swinging.
Alarik glowered at her words, but Greta was beyond caring. She could hear the distant squall of Saga’s cubs and knew the leopard was seconds from bolting.
She leaped to her feet and rolled her shoulders back. Undaunted. Unyielding. ‘I’m taking Saga back to her cubs. You are welcome to join me.’
Before the king could formulate a retort – or worse, swing his sword – she spun on her heel and gave a low whistle. Saga sprung to her feet and ran for her pen, Greta jogging a few steps behind the leopard to guard her back. Without the shield of her adrenaline, her panic returned with a vengeance.
You foolish girl, scolded the voice in her head. You’ve disrespected the king and squandered your future, all over the fate of a snow leopard.
Greta shook off the words, but more came in their place, taunting her. The king would never forgive her for such impertinence. She had yelled at him, threatened him, faced his sword and all but mocked him in front of his soldiers. She curled her fists, blinking back her tears.
Don’t let them see you cry. Don’t let them see you break.
There came the telltale crunch of footsteps behind her.
She didn’t dare look back to see if the king was following, but she prayed it was he and not one of his soldiers come to drag her off to the dungeons.
More than that, she wanted Alarik Felsing to see what she had fought for just now.
She wanted him to look upon Saga’s litter and understand the kind of joy that sparked at the other side of warfare.
Not death, but life. Two perfect cubs, like matching tufts of mewling snow.
Both blind and helpless, crying out for their mama.
Saga darted inside her pen, snuffling as she returned to her cubs. Greta felt the creature’s relief like a breath of cool wind as she lingered by the gate, watching them.
‘So, you are not a liar, at least,’ said a voice close to her ear. ‘Just a brat.’
Alarik Felsing stood behind her, peering over her shoulder into the pen.
Greta stiffened at his sudden nearness. ‘I’m not a brat.’
‘An impudent terror, then.’
She turned to glare at him, her hair brushing the underside of his chin. ‘These are your precious beasts. If they live, they will ultimately serve you, like the rest of us. Surely even you would not enjoy striking down a new mother and leaving her newborn cubs to die?’
He dipped his chin to return her glare, suddenly so close they were sharing the same breath. ‘What makes you think I enjoy striking down anyone?’
‘Everything I’ve ever heard about you,’ she said, before thinking.
‘Do you talk about me often, Iversen?’
‘Hardly ever, in fact.’
‘Then you don’t know me,’ he said, curtly. ‘Or what I enjoy. So, you may refrain from guessing.’
‘Fine,’ she said, conceding the point. She looked away, suddenly all too aware of his body half curled around hers, how his breath ruffled her hair.
‘The sight of those cubs might not tug at your heartstrings, but you must admit it would be a terrible waste of resources to harm their mother. They would die without her. Someday, one of them might save your life in battle.’
‘You have made your case, wrangler.’ Greta could have sworn she detected a hint of amusement in the king’s voice. ‘Your little leopard will live to maim another day.’
She turned around, pressing her back against the fence. ‘That’s not funny.’
As if only just realizing how close they were standing, the king cleared his throat and stepped away from her. He frowned as his gaze dropped to her filthy coat and trousers. ‘You are covered in blood.’
Greta had hardly even noticed. ‘Well. I apologize for my distasteful appearance.’
His frown sharpened. ‘Are you injured?’
‘Me? No. This is not my blood.’
He blew out a breath, taking another step back. A slow blink, and whatever thought had scrunched his brows was gone. At last, he sheathed his sword. ‘Tell me exactly what went on here today, so I can ensure it does not happen again. Where were you when that leopard attacked my soldiers?’
Greta winced at the memory, scrubbing her hands through her hair.
‘There was a third cub in the litter. A female. It wasn’t …
she didn’t make it.’ She gestured at the blood in the pen, the blood on herself, trying to push away the sadness that came with it.
How she had wept to find it dead in the corner of the pen, still in its birth sac. ‘I … took the body away. To bury it.’