Chapter 2 His Return

The palace was busier than usual. It was the very first thing Lanthe noted when she woke up that morning. She'd spent a better part of the past week adjusting to life in Oakhaven and learning the norms of the palace so she immediately knew something was off.

The sun had only just made its appearance in the sky but the hustle and bustle around her was like midday. Hurried footsteps echoed in the halls and a loud voice boomed orders in the distance. She'd barely rubbed the sleep out of her eyes before Old Mabel was yelling at her to gather some firewood from storage. The not so friendly head maid was pricklier than usual, antsy if anything.

It hadn't taken long for her to figure out what all the fuss was about. Today was the day the King returned to the palace from the northern border. He'd spent a better part of a fortnight settling a dispute that arose among the outlying packs of Oakhaven and his return was enough to send the usually quiet Oakhaven into a frenzy. Like a hive poked with a stick.

"Move faster, girl, the wood won't gather itself!" Old Mabel snapped, already turning to bark orders at someone else before Lanthe could respond. Lanthe's wolf sneered at the old hag's tone, irritated that someone far beneath their station dared to speak to them in such a way. But there was little her wolf could do than prance around in Lanthe's head in annoyance. Not because her wolf understood they needed to avoid trouble and remain as unremarkable as possible, but because the glamour spell Lanthe used to hide her appearance had transferred to her wolf in the form of a cage.

Lanthe couldn't shift because of the spell.

At times the restriction grew suffocating but in this case it was a good thing. It kept Lanthe's very impulsive wolf from flying into a rage and blowing their cover.

She ignored the prancing, and hurried to the storage shed. Her status didn't matter here. If anything, she prefered to be treated like a common maid. It meant no one knew who she truly was, it meant she was safe. And her safety mattered more right now than her pride.

Her arms were soon full of split logs, and she let herself be swept along in the current of the morning. The work was a welcome distraction from the thoughts that constantly occupied her mind ever since that night.

By the time she'd delivered the firewood and received a fresh basin of linens to scrub, she'd pieced together from scraps of overheard conversation, just how significant this homecoming was. The King rarely left Oakhaven himself but the dispute up north had apparently been serious enough to warrant his presence. Two packs on the edge of a blood feud over land rights. He'd ridden out personally to settle it before it became something bloodier.

"You'd think the Moon Goddess herself was coming down from the sky," Lanthe muttered, wringing out a sheet with more force than the task required. To think a week ago she'd never even washed her own undergarments herself, now here she was wringing sheets used by goddess knew who.

Yara snorted, elbow deep in the basin beside her. "To half this palace, that's near enough what he is. Careful how loud you say things like that, though. Some of the older staff take it seriously."

"Do you?"

Yara considered the question with more weight than Lanthe expected. "I take seriously that he's the reason Oakhaven hasn't burned in the last ten years, if that's what you mean. Whatever else people say about him, it's because of him Oakhaven isn't plagued by war anymore. That's worth something."

Lanthe said nothing, focusing on the sheet in her hands instead. The mixed responses to the King of Oakhaven were strange to her. She'd always believed the king of Oakhaven was nothing more than a ruthless killer feared by all who crossed his path, at least that was how he was portrayed in Silvermist. When she got here though, she realised fear wasn't the only emotion his people held for him.

The fear was definitely there but in the midst of that was gratitude and respect.

Her father had been loved and adored by the people of Silvermist. So much so that she couldn't imagine a single negative word uttered about the King of Silvermist. At least not before Theron.

It was one of the many ways Oakhaven differed from Silvermist.

What was it like to rule a kingdom by fear instead of affection? She shook the thought away because a princess in hiding had no business being curious about how other kings held power. She'd relinquished her place when she chose to run away like a coward.

The morning wore on in much the same fashion, an edge of anticipation Lanthe didn't share and couldn't fully understand, hanging in the air. She scrubbed floors that had already been scrubbed the day before. She helped haul fresh linens to guest chambers that, as far as she knew, held no guests. She watched guards drill in the courtyard with unusual intensity, as though even they wanted to look their sharpest for a king who would likely spare them no more than a passing glance.

By early afternoon, word rippled through the palace that the King's party had been spotted on the northern road, close enough now that his arrival was a matter of hours rather than days. The shift in the air was almost immediate, almost like everyone collectively held their breaths.

"You'll want to see this," Yara had said, catching Lanthe's arm as they passed the corridor overlooking the main courtyard. Other maids had gathered around windows, straining for a clearer view of the courtyard. "Everyone does the first time."

Lanthe went, mostly to avoid the strangeness of refusing. There wasn't exactly a polite way to say she had no interest in their King. The corridor hadn't been the only place crowded. The number of people lingering in the courtyard slowly grew as evening fell upon the palace, servants and guards alike, all eager to catch a glimpse of their King.

Lanthe had to admit, she was a bit curious now. Just what sort of man was Nikolai Blackwood to rouse such a reaction from people who supposedly feared him?

She heard him before she saw him. Not his voice, but the subtle shift in the air. The sudden quiet that fell upon the courtyard as every head turned towards the gates.

Then the gates opened, and Nikolai Blackwood rode through them.

He looked, Lanthe thought, exactly like what she'd expected the King of Oakhaven to look like. He was a large male, she could tell that much even from this distance. His shoulders were broad and his body looked to be carved of stone, a warriors build if she'd ever seen one. His dark hair was damp and he looked travel worn but even in his haggard state, he was a glorious sight to behold.

Guards bowed as he passed by but he didn't so much as glance in their direction. He didn't need to. Authority sat on him the way trained soldiers wore armor, like something he'd stopped noticing the weight of a long time ago.

Lanthe tried to look away, but she couldn't manage to peel her gaze away from him.

Instead something low in her chest pulled tight, like a hand had suddenly reached into her chest and grasped her heart. She felt an ache she had neither a name nor explanation for. His gaze swept the courtyard and her whole body stilled, the world around her seeming to fade away till he was the only thing in her line of vision.

For one disorienting heartbeat, she was certain his eyes caught on the window where she stood, on her, though there was no possible reason a king would notice one maid among a hundred pressed against the glass three floors up.

Then he was past the gate, dismounting, already speaking to a waiting advisor, and the moment broke apart like it had never happened at all.

Lanthe stepped back from the window so fast she nearly knocked Yara into the wall.

"You alright?" Yara asked, laughing. "You've gone pale as milk."

"Fine," Lanthe said a bit too quickly, pressing a hand flat against her own sternum as though she could physically hold the strange, thrumming ache still. "Just long day."

She didn't believe it any more than Yara did. But she made herself walk away from the window anyway. Whatever that was back there, whatever this ache in her chest represented, she wasn't eager to find out the reason.

All Lanthe knew in that moment with strange clarity, was that she had to stay away from Nikolai Blackwood no matter what it took.