Chapter 14 Greta #2
‘Clever beast,’ remarked the king, who had not so much as batted an eyelid at the other animals in the arena. He was as comfortable with them at his back as he was with them at his front, which meant he either truly trusted the animals, or he truly trusted her.
‘We’re making fine progress,’ Greta felt compelled to say. ‘Despite this hiccup, there’s been considerable improvements across—’
‘Relax, Iversen. I know you’re good at your job. I’ve been watching you.’
She flushed, a violent heat stealing across her cheeks. Why did that make her so nervous?
He went on, ‘You can train my beasts however you see fit, so long as you make them chew up my enemies when it counts.’
Her stomach twisted at the hint of war. It was absurd to admit, but even though she was training a regiment of the Gevran army, she didn’t like to think about battles or bloodshed, or pain or death or—
‘Can you finish up here? We have somewhere else to be.’
‘Don’t you ever say please?’ The words flew out of her mouth before she could catch them.
He stared at her for a long moment. ‘Never.’
Her brows lifted. ‘Even a king should have manners.’
‘Why would I need manners when I have a perfectly good sword?’
It was an effort not to roll her eyes. ‘Well, at the risk of being skewered, may I ask where I am expected to be?’
‘We’re going on a trip.’
‘To where?’ she said, cautiously.
‘The grazing fields beyond the mountains,’ he said, looking south as though he could see them through the sprawl of the palace. ‘I’m going to introduce you to an entirely new kind of beast.’
Greta couldn’t help the smile that broke across her face. ‘In that case, I’ll meet you out front shortly!’
She quickly returned the beasts to their pens, where she fed and watered them, before returning to the palace, giddiness making her bounce on the balls of her feet.
She couldn’t tell if it was the promise of a mysterious new beast or the fact that she was going on a trip with the king himself that filled her stomach with butterflies, but when she spied the royal sled through the atrium window, her heart flipped in her chest.
She bounded outside and, in her excitement, nearly crashed head first into Princess Elva, who was standing on the front steps, wearing a magnificent silver fur cloak and matching hat. Impossibly, she looked even more beautiful than the last time Greta had seen her.
‘Greta! There you are!’ she said, flashing her perfectly dazzling smile. ‘I’m so pleased you can join us on our outing!’
Greta’s smile faltered, her heart sinking into her shoes. ‘Me, too,’ she said, a beat too late.
‘But then, I suppose it’s not like you have a choice,’ said the princess, misreading her disappointment. ‘Alarik can be quite a tyrant. I hope he didn’t tear you away from anything important.’
Greta shook her head slowly, suddenly dreading the thought of accompanying Alarik and his betrothed on a romantic jaunt through the mountains.
A quick glance around the front courtyard revealed the sled driver, who was harnessing his wolves, and Captain Vine, who, mercifully, was also wearing her travelling cloak.
Greta blew out a breath. She was not to be a third wheel, after all.
‘Be warned, he’s in a foul mood today,’ said Princess Elva, as the king came stalking across the courtyard. ‘I did warn him that’s what happens when you spend the morning beating your enemy’s spies into a bloody pulp.’
Greta followed the chatty princess down to the sled, suddenly conscious of every scuff on her boots, the stray wisps of hair that had come undone from her braid and the million stubborn wolf hairs that now decorated her frock coat.
I am a wrangler, she reminded herself.
I am the wrangler.
She didn’t need to look beautiful. Or be remotely charming.
That was not why the king had invited her.
The royal sled was large and sleek, comprised of two leather benches that faced one another.
Greta clambered up first, settling herself on the far end of the first bench.
Next came Captain Vine, who seated herself on the opposite bench.
Then the princess, who chose the spot beside Vine, picking up one of the fur blankets and unfurling it.
‘Well, this is cosy,’ she said, as she draped the blanket over her lap and Vine’s. Perhaps it was Greta’s imagination, but she could have sworn the captain blushed.
The king was the last to climb into the sled, and to Greta’s surprise – and traitorous flicker of delight – he passed over the empty space beside his betrothed and sat beside her instead.
She bit back her smile as he splayed his arm along the headrest behind her.
‘Onwards,’ he called to the sled driver.
The wolves set off at a steady pace, pulling the sled behind them.
‘WAIT FOR ME!’ A strangled voice rang out, and Greta looked over her shoulder to see the same frightfully tall man she had glimpsed in the war room on the day of her arrival. He was tearing across the front lawn after the sled, his brown satchel swinging through the air behind him.
‘Go!’ Alarik pounded on the side of the sled. ‘Faster!’
But they were already slowing, and before the driver could heed the king’s order, the spindly man caught up with them.
He grasped on to the edge of the sled and flung himself inside, his satchel opening in a mess of twigs and loose flowers as he landed in a heap at the king’s feet.
With those gangly limbs and wide, unblinking eyes, he looked like a fawn on ice.
‘You forgot me, Your Majesty!’ he said, scrabbling to his knees.
Alarik rolled his eyes. ‘I didn’t forget you, Lief. I was escaping you.’
Lief gathered up his sticks and flowers and shoved them back into his satchel.
‘I heard you’re going to the grazing fields,’ he said, lunging to sit beside Alarik.
The king shot out his arm, shooing him to the other bench.
‘That’s an hour’s ride from here. Perfect time to go over more wedding details!
’ He smiled far too widely, glancing between the princess and the king, both of whom looked distinctly uninterested in his proposition. ‘Is it not?’
‘No,’ said Alarik flatly, before turning his entire body towards Greta, and looking at her like she was suddenly the most fascinating creature he had ever seen. The sudden intensity in his gaze made her squirm a little in her seat. ‘I will be speaking to my wrangler.’
‘For how long?’ said Lief, crestfallen.
‘Eons,’ said Alarik, without tearing his gaze from Greta. He idly toyed with the edge of her hood, the move so casually intimate, her throat dried out. ‘My wrangler and I have lots to catch up on. Don’t we, Iversen?’
She summoned a smile, playing along. ‘Enough to fill at least two sled rides.’
To her surprise, the king smiled back and for a fleeting moment, the warmth in his gaze didn’t feel like a ruse at all.