A Daughter of Silvaris

Chapter 4 - Backwards Bastard

RHETT

Knowing that Olena was off Iron Ridge territory and visiting the Southland imperials had me restless, and I wasn’t the only one. Anyone who knew anything about The Southlands was currently in a state of trepidation, sitting with the knowledge that their High Alpha, Luna, and heirs were there. Unguarded.

Realistically, the odds of the Diablo Rubris openly causing trouble was slim. But I knew he was a depraved, sneaky Moon-shaded backwards bastard. I’ve heard more than enough from my father, Robart Thornton, Beta Male to High Alpha Octavier, about them before now. None of it good, and you never really know how deep into depravity a person with no morals might go if they’re chasing something they want.

And they did want something. What exactly, no one knew. Not even my father knew, and as the High Alpha’s Second, he should always know when there might be a threat to their safety.

Hackles on the back of my neck began to sprout every time the vision of her in their company crept into my mind. Only deep, slow breathing and gritting my teeth so hard they ached could get the thick brown fur to settle back beneath my skin.

So, I set about busying myself, to keeping my animal instinct to seek her out, to protect her, at bay.

First, stripped to nothing but my shorts, I ran as a human. The forty minute walk through a woodland path to Ferratonin took less than fifteen, the evening chill of a clear spring day biting at my exposed chest. A lupen’s blood runs warm, and the cool air was helped to keep mine from heating to the point where I couldn’t control my shift. I lapped Ferratonin twice, willing the sights and sounds and smells of the lively city to occupy my mind. But it didn’t. I easily settled into my pace, no matter how fast or hard I pumped my legs. Back to Iron Ridge then, to attempt to uncoil the writhing beast in my belly another way. The training ground might do.

The moonlight cast pale highlights over the training equipment. It glinted off deadly blades visible through the thin slits in the large structure keeping them safely locked away. Some were broad and savage, forged for cutting through flesh and bone in single blows; others sleek and slender, curved and straight, knives for throwing, slicing, stabbing. All capable—in the right hands—of reducing hordes of enemies to bloody ribbons. It highlighted the curves of the near solid sandbags hanging in a row from a hooked posts staked in the ground, most too heavy to sway in the breeze. And the immovable post ten paces away, a foot taller than any male and so thick even the largest male’s arms would not wrap around it and have their hands meet on the other side. The wooden enemy, as we called it, had stood strong and proud for decades. Fought and punched and kicked by expert, battle-hardened warriors training to war against a foe with a body harder than their own… evidenced by the way it tapered out at its apex and where it met the compact earth, the rest of its length flattened and warped to various degrees. I winced at the thought of the bones that had cracked against that solid form over its years here.

No blades tonight; I needed to feel this.

I assessed the row of bags. Fourteen in total, varying in height suspended from the ground, thickness, weight, outer material, and solidity. Designed to be used by fighters as soon as they were old enough to stand by themselves and throw a limb in attack—less than two years old for a lupen with a strident parent.

Usually, I’d take the bag ten, a further four bags to my right before the wooden enemy, and nine I’d already progressed through to my left. Decent, for a seventeen-year-old who’s first shift had only happened eight months ago, and on a par with Oberon and Jakon, our unofficial third. But not today. Today I needed more.

I stood in front of bag ten, and looked right. That post was beyond me—for now—and I would be no good to anyone with a broken limb. A sandbag, then. So I moved right. And right again. Third from the wooden enemy. Perhaps not the smartest idea I’d ever had, but a necessary one. I’d stop if anything cracked…

The breeze picked up to a whirl around me as I stepped forward, clenched and unclenched my fists and closed my eyes, slowed my breathing and settled in to a combative calm. When my eyes opened, they glowed. And I was ready.

I punched and kicked and struck with elbows and knees at a blistering pace, savouring the burning of the abrasions the rough canvas outer left in my skin. I hadn’t bothered to wrap my hands, wrists, or ankles; I needed the pain. And it helped, a little. The warring in my mind wasn’t as loud, the voice that had bellowed for me to go to her—to them. The voice that said they were in danger, they’d die if I stayed here, if I did nothing. It raged at me, right at the forefront of my mind, unavoidable, inescapable, a clawing, snarling beast.

But this was helping. The raw, stinging skin, the sweat clinging my hair to my brow, the burn of the cold air in my lungs as I gulped it down… it all helped. And the voice settled some. Not completely. No… not until they returned unharmed. But—

The bag split right at the point where I had spun on one leg, the other its heel hurtling down on the bags middle. Sand poured from the split and before I could act—though what I’d have done to stop it I don’t know—the bag quickly ripped to its base and spilled the entire contents in a pile on the earthen floor beneath it. Along with—

Rocks. Rocks the size of my fist made up the centre of the mountainous pile. I looked at the warrior-beaten post three stations to my right, and the other sandbags between it and this one…

They would be fine; she would be fine. High Alpha Octavier trained on nothing but that wooden enemy, Oberon and I were on a level, and Olena’s eldest brother had begun letting her train with us. She’d made it to bag five by herself in a matter of months before Oberon agreed that, if she would truly insist on training, her form needed work.

Gazing at our Moon’s rising position in the late evening sky, Her loyal legion of stars just beginning to flank her on all sides, I judged that they’d likely be home soon—and my instincts would quickly return once Her rays enhanced my healing. Best head back, then.

I started at a walking pace, still breathing heavily, but the fifteen minute walk back to the my home, Beta house, was taking too long. Our worshipped Moon was rising quickly, like She wanted me to heal, to rage, to run. I wasn’t even half way home when the twisting in my gut began again. My skin bristled; I picked up my pace. Father would be busy, he often was, but mother could help me.

If my eyes had stopped glowing, they sparked back to life as I ran up the steep hill. Hackles sprouted down my spine, vision sharpened. The point of no return, I shifted voluntarily. Retaining a last morsel of control before it took me unwillingly and sent me wild. I didn’t take the time to remove my shorts, and they tore into shreds as I morphed into the form of a giant wolf. Glowing emerald eyes and a pelt of deep, rich brown matched my human head. My form was large, even for my age, and the urge to run the entire way to The South became so strong, I took off for the southern forest. Logic meant nothing as my paws pounded into the earth, beginning the nine day journey in wolf form. Like a moth to a flame, desperate, unorganised, and blinded by some innate will, it drove me to run deeper and deeper, further and further south.

But then it stopped. And so did I, so quickly I stumbled over my own paws. I righted myself, claws dug hard into the loose earth of the forest floor, and I whirled, panting, snout raised to the north.

They were back.

My breathing slowed, mind calming with it, common sense returning. Wind whistled between the pine trees of the forest around me, and I marvelled at how far I’d gotten. If it hadn’t been so senseless, I might have been proud. A final heavy breath loosed from my snout as a sigh, and I returned home.

They hadn’t returned before me, but they were close I knew. And it was that, and only that, knowledge that let me fall onto my bed and wait, semi-patiently.

As I lay there, I wondered. I often wondered actually—where this all-consuming need to protect her came from. The need was there for all of them, as it was for any Beta, but it was different with Olena. Lately, the favourite parts of my day were those that involved her. I couldn’t know for sure; a mate bond couldn’t be felt until eighteen or either of us, but every time I got stirrings, I wondered.

Only when the sound of hooves on cobblestone reached my keen ears did the relief wash over me like a tidal wave. From the top of my head to the tips of my fingers and toes, I relaxed.

Eventually, the late hour and exhaustion caught up with me, and finally, sleep took me.

I woke early the next morning. I’d slept well knowing Olena was home, safe, and sleeping just across the cobbled square between our houses.

I mind-linked my closest and oldest friend and future High Alpha, Oberon, to see if he was awake yet. As casually as I could, I asked about Olena too, and he’d grunted a reply that she’d gotten up an hour ago.

Oberon had noticed a few months ago, and I didn’t lie when he confronted me about how I looked at his sister. He was furious at first, understandably, but he calmed down following my grovelling apology, explanation that it wasn’t a willing choice, and an assurance that I wouldn’t act on it. Still, it took him a few days. In the end I suspected that the High Alpha had had a quiet word with his eldest son and heir about giving me some slack.

After getting the reply that she too was up, I took no time at all making myself presentable, and marched across the enormous courtyard and into the Alpha house with a broad smile on my face. Knowing exactly where I’d find her, I turned left, heading straight for the kitchen. It’d either be a stack of pancaked bigger than her head, or a giant bowl of her favourite grains with milk and honey.

Today, it was pancakes.

I leant my shoulder against the arched entrance to the large kitchen come breakfast bar. It was modern but with a country feel—panelled cupboards of sage green and solid wood countertops. “Are you going to leave any of those for the rest of us, Lena?” I called affectionately. She whipped around, a smile on her face. Her glistening silver hair, loose but wavy from her braid the night before, settled in the small of her back.

To see her safe, scoffing her face with syrupy pancakes lifted my heart instantly, and the fact that she looked at me with that smile, so pure it crinkled the corners of her eyes, made it all the better.

“Rhett! Good morning!” She covered her mouth with her hand as she spoke, whether through fear of losing a single morsel of her breakfast or manners, no one could be sure. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Would you like some Rhett?” asked the kindly voice of Mrs Barnes, much-loved older housemaid who had serviced both the Alpha and Beta houses for many years. She was an excellent cook and very much felt like a kind of grandmother to all of us. “There’s still batter in the fridge here.” She motioned behind her.

My stomach growled in answer. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. “That would be great, Mrs B, thank you.”

I pulled up a stool at the breakfast bar opposite hers and sat myself down. She was watching me when lifted my eyes, but quickly went back to her breakfast.

I wasn’t totally sure how I wanted to approach this; I hadn’t spoken to Oberon about how last night went yet, what had happened that made him grouchy enough to growl at me through our minds this morning.

Maybe asking him first would be a better idea… the last thing I wanted was to say something that could upset Olena. Especially with how contented she looked in this moment. Nightclothes still on, hair unbound around her face, syrup on her chin, gazing at her breakfast like it were a stack of jewels rather than fried batter.

That image answered settled the debate. I decided to keep my questions about last night internal for now.

Mrs B placed a plate of warm fluffy goodness in front of me, and Olena immediately slid me the maple syrup across the bar.

“So.” Chomp. “Rhett.” Chomp. Her voice was playful—a good sign. Gulp. “Are you busy today?”

“Well,” I also answered between bites, though mine were far more civilised. The pancakes were to die for, I keep my eyes focused on them as I spoke. “I have training with your brother and Jakon this morning, but nothing planned for the afternoon.” I dared to glance at her face—her eyes gleamed like amethysts. I would always be hopeful she would want to spend time with me, but I never instigated, never forced it. I’d made a promise to Oberon, and if anything were to come of it in time… I wanted it to be organic.

But by the light in her eyes, I could safely assume she was pleased with my answer. They brightened when she was happy, I’d noticed over time. She was always confident, but it waned a little when she asked, “You wanna hang out? Maybe we could train a bit…” She looked up from between her long, dark lashes.

She had asked me to train her a lot since I’d first agreed a few months ago. I’d cleared it with Oberon first. He’d been pleased she wanted to train, but he had rules: stick to hand to hand combat, no weapons, and he had to be involved as well. It was plain to see she was determined to prove that, just because she was a girl, she was no less an heir of a High Alpha than her brothers. Of course she wasn’t. She was fourteen and had been training mere months, but I had no doubt that once she knew the right moves she could put me on my ass occasionally, totally oblivious to her own strength.

“I’m sure that’ll be fine. Your brother, Jak and I have to get ours done first, but I’ll come fetch you once we’ve finished and we’ll do a bit this afternoon,” I offered.

Her smile turned into a smirk. “Get ready to be beaten then.”

And my own smile followed suit as I said, “I’m shaking in my boots, marshmallow.”