His Hands Were Shaking
1737 Words
CHAPTER 2 — HIS HANDS WERE SHAKING
I found Father at the training grounds before breakfast.
That alone wasn’t unusual.
He’d always woken up earlier than everyone else in the house. When I was younger, I used to think he never slept at all. No matter how early I woke up, he was already dressed, already working, already halfway through his day while the rest of the pack was still rubbing sleep from their eyes.
But this morning felt different the second I saw him.
The training grounds were covered in thin morning fog, the air cold enough to sting my nose when I breathed in. Wolves moved across the field in pairs, wooden weapons cracking against each other while guards barked corrections nearby.
Normally, Father’s presence dominated the place without effort.
People stood straighter around him.
Louder wolves quieted down.
The energy shifted whenever he walked through a space.
Today, the shift was still there.
Just weaker somehow.
I hated that I noticed it.
Father stood near the weapons rack speaking to one of the older warriors. The second he saw me approaching, his expression changed immediately.
“There she is,” he said.
That smile almost fixed everything.
Almost.
“You disappeared before breakfast,” I said as I walked closer.
“And you came searching for me.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I raised you better than that.”
I rolled my eyes, and he laughed softly under his breath.
That sound hit me harder than expected.
Lately, every normal moment with him felt fragile. Like I needed to hold onto it before something ruined it.
Father reached for one of the wooden training blades and tossed another toward me without warning.
I barely caught it.
“Terrible reflexes,” he said immediately.
“You threw it at my face.”
“You’re supposed to adapt.”
“You’re supposed to warn people.”
“That’s not how fighting works.”
I shook my head, trying not to smile.
A few wolves nearby glanced toward us. Some looked relieved hearing Father joke around. Others just looked… careful.
I noticed that too.
Father stepped farther onto the open field and lifted the wooden blade slightly.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s see if you’ve gotten worse.”
“I was never bad.”
“You were awful.”
“I was ten.”
“You nearly broke my wrist.”
“That sounds dramatic.”
“It was dramatic.”
I attacked him before he could keep talking.
The wooden blades slammed together sharply.
Father blocked easily, moving with the same smooth instinctive control I’d watched my whole life. Even now, tired as he looked lately, he still moved better than almost everyone in the pack.
He knocked my blade aside with barely any effort.
“Too predictable,” he said.
“You always say that.”
“Because you never learn.”
“That’s rude.”
“It’s accurate.”
I swung again.
This time harder.
Father blocked me once—
then suddenly stopped moving.
Not completely.
Just enough to make me notice.
His grip slipped slightly.
The blade tilted awkwardly in his hand.
Then he froze.
I lowered my weapon immediately.
“Father?”
He straightened too fast afterward, like he realized I’d seen something.
“I’m fine.”
But his breathing sounded heavier now.
I stared at him.
“You stopped.”
“You finally got faster.”
“That’s not what happened.”
A small silence stretched between us.
Father looked away briefly before tightening his grip on the blade again.
That was when I saw it.
His hand was shaking.
Barely.
Tiny movements in his fingers.
But definitely shaking.
My stomach tightened instantly.
“Your hand,” I said quietly.
He glanced down once before dismissing it.
“It’s cold outside.”
“That’s not from cold.”
“You’ve become dramatic lately.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
But he still wouldn’t look directly at me.
And suddenly, all the strange things I’d noticed since yesterday came rushing back at once.
The coughing.
The tired eyes.
The way he leaned against the table after breakfast.
That horrible medicine Lady Morwen kept giving him.
A bad feeling settled heavily in my chest.
“You haven’t been feeling well,” I said carefully.
Father sighed like he was already tired of the conversation.
“I’m just exhausted.”
“You never get exhausted like this.”
“That’s because you still think I’m twenty-five.”
“I think something’s wrong.”
That made him look at me properly.
For a second, neither of us said anything.
The wolves training nearby kept moving, but quieter now. Even from a distance, they could probably feel the tension between us.
Father finally started walking across the edge of the field, motioning for me to follow him.
I did.
The morning air felt colder away from the others.
“You worry too much,” he said after a while.
“That’s your fault.”
“Oh?”
“You raised me.”
A small smile touched his face.
“That’s true.”
We walked a little farther in silence.
I glanced sideways at him.
He looked tired enough that it scared me.
Not weak.
Father never looked weak.
But slower.
Like carrying himself required more effort lately.
Then he coughed.
The sound stopped me immediately.
It wasn’t loud, but it sounded rough enough that my chest tightened hearing it.
Father turned slightly away while coughing into his fist.
I stepped closer without thinking.
“Father.”
“I’m alright.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“It doesn’t sound true.”
He lowered his hand too quickly afterward.
Like he didn’t want me looking too closely.
That scared me more than the coughing itself.
“You should rest today,” I said.
“I have meetings.”
“Then cancel them.”
A tired laugh escaped him. “That isn’t how leadership works.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
“I care more about you not collapsing.”
The second the words left my mouth, regret hit me.
Father went quiet.
Not angry.
Just quiet.
The kind that made guilt settle heavily in my stomach.
Then his expression softened.
“You really are worried.”
“Obviously I’m worried.”
Something unreadable flickered across his face then.
Before I could figure out what it was, footsteps approached from behind us.
Lady Morwen.
Of course.
She walked across the training grounds like she belonged everywhere she stepped. Perfect posture. Calm expression. Not a strand of dark hair out of place despite the wind.
A servant followed behind her carrying a silver tray.
The second the smell reached me, my stomach twisted.
That medicine again.
Even from here, I could smell the bitter herbs.
Father noticed my expression immediately.
“You look personally offended by tea.”
“It smells weird.”
“It’s medicine,” Lady Morwen said smoothly.
She picked up the glass herself before handing it to Father.
Her movements were graceful.
Careful.
Controlled.
Everything about her always looked controlled.
Father took the glass without argument this time.
But before drinking, he hesitated slightly.
Just for a second.
Then his eyes met mine.
I couldn’t explain why that moment bothered me so much.
Maybe because he looked tired.
Maybe because he looked like he already knew what I was going to say.
“Don’t,” he said quietly.
“I didn’t even say anything.”
“You were about to.”
Because he was right.
I was.
I wanted to ask him to stop drinking it.
I wanted to ask why he suddenly needed medicine every single morning.
I wanted to ask why everyone in the house looked nervous all the time now.
But none of those questions felt safe suddenly.
Father drank anyway.
Lady Morwen watched him the entire time.
That was the part that unsettled me most.
Not concern.
Not affection.
Attention.
Like she was waiting for something.
The second he handed the empty glass back, her shoulders relaxed slightly.
Tiny movement.
Easy to miss.
I didn’t miss it.
“You should get inside,” she said gently to Father. “The air is too cold.”
“I’ve survived worse.”
“Yes, but there’s no reason to make yourself worse.”
Her tone sounded caring.
Maybe it even was.
But something about it still made my skin crawl.
Father rubbed a hand against the back of his neck before exhaling slowly.
“I need to prepare for the council meeting.”
“You need sleep,” I corrected.
“And you need to stop trying to manage me.”
“You’re impossible.”
“That’s hereditary.”
Despite myself, I laughed quietly.
Father smiled at that.
A real smile this time.
Then another cough interrupted it almost immediately.
Several wolves nearby glanced over before pretending they hadn’t noticed.
Father noticed too.
And for the first time in my life, I saw embarrassment cross his face.
Just briefly.
But enough.
Something about that hurt.
Because Father was the strongest person I knew.
Seeing him try to hide weakness felt wrong in a way I couldn’t explain.
“I’ll see you tonight,” he said.
“You promise?”
A pause.
Small.
But there.
“Of course.”
He squeezed my shoulder once before walking away with Lady Morwen beside him.
I stayed where I was long after they disappeared.
The training grounds slowly returned to normal around me, but the strange heaviness in my chest stayed exactly where it was.
One of the younger wolves nearby glanced toward me nervously before quickly looking away.
I noticed that too.
“You saw it,” I said quietly.
The boy froze.
Fear crossed his face immediately.
“I don’t know what you mean, young mistress.”
Lie.
Even without trying, I could tell he was lying.
Before I could say anything else, another guard called him sharply from across the field.
The boy left immediately.
Too fast.
I looked back toward the direction Father had disappeared.
The smell of bitter herbs still lingered faintly in the cold air.
And for the first time since all this started, a thought hit me hard enough to make my stomach turn.
What if this wasn’t exhaustion at all?
- Writer
