The Warlord’s Wildflower (The Monstrous Mates #2)

Chapter One

Annie

T he gardens are my safe place, where the grass is soft beneath my feet and bees drift lazily between the clover, but…

the sparring ring? Definitely, not. It’s all shouting, sweaty men, and loud clashing of weapons.

I avoid it at all costs. The moment I step onto the training grounds, I want to turn right back around.

Yet, here I am.

Maeve forgot her satchel again , and she looked at me with those big, pleading green eyes. “Please, Annie? It’s right by the fence. No one will even notice you.”

Next time, I swear, I’ll tell her to get it herself.

Tiptoeing along the edge of the fence, I clutch the bag to my chest, my bare feet whispering against the sun-warmed earth. The breeze carries the scent of wildflowers, and I take a deep breath, pretending I’m back in the gardens, where the only sounds are the birds singing, and—

Something enormous crashes to the ground in front of me with a thunderous thud, kicking up a whirlwind of dust that blasts me full in the face.

I yelp, stumbling back with a squeak, arms flailing.

Dirt peppers my dress and tickles up my nose.

I’m coughing, blinking through the sudden cloud that has made it appear like I’ve been dropped into a sandstorm.

My heart is galloping wildly in my chest. Sweet Mother Bovina, what was that?

I squint through the haze and nearly swallow my tongue.

The cloud begins to settle, and Oh my Gods.

It’s Fenric . Flat on his back. Right at my feet.

He rises gracefully for someone who has just been knocked off his hooves. His blonde mane is tied back, but a few strands have escaped, curling softly around his face. His horns, smooth as ivory, catch the light as he shakes the dust off his shoulders.

From across the ring, a laughing male voice calls out, “You planning to eat dirt for lunch, Golden Boy, or was that just a snack?”

Fenric doesn’t take his eyes off me. “One moment!” He calls back, ignoring the jab.

I’ve seen him before, of course. Everyone has. The youngest warrior to ever earn his rank so quickly. He’s the one all the girls whisper and giggle about from afar.

Up close, he is breathtaking.

And he’s looking right at me.

My cheeks flood with warmth, and I duck my head, my fingers twisting nervously in the straps of Maeve’s bag. I should say something, but words have always been tricky things, slipping away when I need them most. His eyes are molten gold, and they crinkle at the corners as he smiles at me.

“Sorry about that,” he says, his voice deep, but gentle. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

I swallow, my cheeks blazing. “I-It’s okay,” I whisper, so quietly I’m not sure he even hears me.

He grins. “Are you lost, little blossom?”

The nickname sends a fluttering through my stomach, as if I’ve just swallowed a handful of butterflies.

I shake my head quickly, my words tangling in my throat. “N-No, I just…Maeve forgot her satchel.” I reply, holding the bag out awkwardly in front of me.

I beg the Gods for a sweet, immediate death.

“You’re one of the new ones. The one who sings in the garden.”

Oh no. My face flames in an instant.

He's heard me.

My fingers clutch the leather bag like a lifeline. “I…I didn’t know anyone was listening,” I whisper.

“I wasn’t spying on you or anything. Just thought it was… lovely.”

Lovely? My singing?

I’m certain I’ll melt into the grass. A tiny, shaky laugh escapes me. “It was only humming. Nothing, really…” I trail off, my words dissolving into the air. My feet shuffle a small step back, desperate for escape. “I should go…the milk buckets, I need to check them.”

Stupid. Why did I say that? That’s not even a thing.

He doesn’t look the slightest bit fazed by my nonsense. He just leans back, resting his arms on the fence, the sunlight catching in his golden eyes. “Are you going to the tournament tomorrow?”

I blink up at him. “The tournament?”

“Mmm. You weren’t planning to?”

I shake my head quickly, my lips pressed together. Crowds. Noise. So many people. The very thought makes my chest tighten. He tilts his head, watching me in a way that makes my breath hitch. Then, softly, he says, “Can I ask you something…a little forward?”

My pulse stutters. “Yes?”

“Could I wear your favor?”

My favor?

“For luck. Just a ribbon, maybe? You do bring good fortune, after all.” His voice is almost teasing. “Even the birds stop to listen when you sing.”

I think I might disappear. Or burst into flames. Or both. But somehow, after a breathless pause, I nod. Just the tiniest movement. “Okay.”

His smile, bright and unfairly gorgeous, lights up his whole face.

“Then I’ll look for you.”

As I finally turn away, my heart racing, my face still burning, one bewildered thought lingers.

…What in the Stars just happened?

I don’t stop running until the courtyard is in sight. Maeve’s satchel bumps against my hip; my fingers are clenched around the strap like it’s the only thing tethering me to the earth.

Fenric asked for my favor.

I duck under the linen strung out to dry, slipping into the clearing by the well. Maeve is there, seated lazily on a bench beneath the shade of a tree, peeling an apple with a little silver knife like she hasn’t a single care in the world.

She perks up when she sees me. “There you are. I thought the sparrows carried you off.”

I press the bag into her hands, keeping my head down so she doesn’t see the way my cheeks are still pink. “Found it by the fence, just like you said.”

Maeve hums. “Thank you, love.” She eyes me, tilting her head. “You alright?”

I nod, looking down at my feet. “Fine. Just… warm.”

It’s not a lie, exactly. My body still feels like it’s on fire.

Maeve stares at me for a second longer than I’d like, but thankfully, doesn’t press. She just shrugs and goes back to her apple, flicking the peel into the grass.

Beatrice shows up a moment later, arms crossed and expression stormy. Her hair is in a braid, but it’s already half fallen apart, and she’s got that look in her eyes, the one that says she’d burn this entire castle down if it would get her a carriage ride back to Havenmoor.

“Did you hear what that healer tried to give me again?” she grumbles, dropping beside us with a dramatic huff. “The herbs. Those herbs. To slow things down.”

Maeve doesn’t look up. “They’re to help with the aching. You don’t need to be producing so much anymore.”

“I don’t care ,” Beatrice snaps. “It’s my body, and I’ll handle it myself.”

I glance between them, hugging my arms to my chest. I took the herbs yesterday. They helped. The pressure in my chest and the pulsing ache are already less. But I don’t say anything. Beatrice is too prickly right now.

I think of Elda, the healer. Her soft, wrinkled hands and her warm, kind smile.

She’s been teaching me how to make poultices: herbs that are mashed up and mixed with warm water to soothe the skin.

She taught me how to grind leaves and roots into powder; how to mix them with oils to make ointments for wounds.

Each time I visit, she shows me something new.

Elda’s an old woman, full of stories. I’ve been spending more time with her lately, and I think she likes having me there.

She says I have a knack for it, even though I’m still learning.

I’m planning to visit her again later today.

I’m looking forward to it, the quiet of her little cottage, the smell of drying lavender and rosemary. I like it there.

“I just don’t get how you’re so comfortable,” Beatrice mutters at Maeve, who’s now lounging like a cat, stretching her legs out in the sun. “You don’t even do chores anymore.”

Maeve grins. “Perks of being the chief’s mate, Bea.”

Beatrice scowls, and I look away, unsure of what to say. The silence stretches. A bird chirps somewhere overhead. Then, she sighs. “I miss home. Even with all the rules. Even with how messed up it was.”

My throat tightens. “I… I think I miss it too. But I don’t know if it ever really was home.”

Beatrice tilts her head toward me. “You thinking about staying here forever, then?”

“I don’t know. It’s strange. Here, we get to choose things. Like, what we wear, when we rest. We don’t have to give as much.”

She nods slowly, then mutters, “But now we’re surrounded by giant Bulls.”

Maeve laughs, but I just twist my fingers in my skirt, thinking again of Fenric. His voice. His smile. The way his eyes lit up when I said yes.

Why would someone like him notice someone like me?

I’m not particularly pretty. Not brave like Maeve or witty like Beatrice. I’m quiet and shy. The kind of girl people overlook.

But he noticed me.

And now he’ll be in the tournament tomorrow, wearing my favor. I swallow hard, the fluttery feeling in my belly returning.

What if I go…and he doesn’t even remember? What if he does? What if—

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Maeve cuts off my thoughts. “Did I mention one of the commanders from the northern tribe is arriving tomorrow?”

I blink, pulling myself back into the present. “A commander?”

“Mm-hm. Apparently, he’s coming here to find a mate. Some kind of treaty thing. If he mates with someone from ours, the tribes can officially unite.”

Beatrice shoots to her feet like she’s been stung. “ What ?” Her voice cracks with fury. “So now we’re just…diplomatic offerings? Is that what we’re doing now?”

Maeve gives her a look. “Relax.”

“ Relax ?” Beatrice’s voice rises. “You said we’d be safe here! That no one would own us again! And now some stranger is riding in to pick out a wife like we’re livestock!”

“Hucows were living here before we arrived,” Maeve says evenly. “Some of them mated. Some didn’t. No one made them. They had freedom here long before we showed up.”

“But now we’re new blood,” Beatrice spits. “Fresh meat. You think this commander isn’t coming here with that in mind?”