When We Were Dancing (The Wolf of Oberhame Book 2) Read online

  "Big enough," one of the guards said.

  Leyli lifted her eyes to see him, and recognized the man from her guard she'd promised to spar with. "He's next, but I need my air."

  Tristan gestured to the guardsman. "Grab my shield. Trust me, you'll want it. Ley, I want to work you with just a short sword or dagger, too."

  She nodded, the back of her head still pressed in the dirt. "Makes sense. You keep this up and I'm contracting a masseuse full time."

  He laughed. "I wouldn't be upset. The one last night was cute."

  She slapped his arm, then sat up, stretching once before climbing to her feet. "And thanks for not taking the hit to my face."

  Tristan chuckled. "Welcome, pup. You leave it open again, and I will."

  "Understood, sir."

  His head snapped around. "Ley," he grumbled.

  She shook her head, smiling broadly. "You're still the mentor, so still a sir. Get used to it, Tristan."

  "Fine. Then grab your weapons, bitch."

  The guards gasped. No one spoke to the Princess like that, but Leyli was amused. "Guess that means I'm growing up, if I've gone from pup to bitch." She bent to grab her shield, then moved for her sword. "Next time I beat you, I get to call you cub."

  "Gotta beat me, first. Ok, line up. You," he pointed at the guard. "Have a name?"

  "Temotio, sir."

  Tristan nodded at him, then gestured to Leyli. "You go easy on her and I'll fight you next. I will not pull my shots for you like I do for her Highness."

  "Understood."

  He waited until they were in place, then ordered them to fight. Temotio moved in with perfect aggression, unaware that Leyli preferred defense. When he tried to attack, she dropped low and leaned back, making the standard swings useless. The man was skilled, but not accustomed to her tricks. Instead of aiming for his head and arm, she focused on his legs, making him move the way she wanted. They traded blows, the wood swords cracking on the shields - then Tristan started to laugh.

  "Get in the game, Wolf! Stop fucking around."

  Leyli laughed and kicked out, hitting the lower edge of his shield. Her sword followed, cracking his arm, but she was still moving. Dancing around the side, she swung the shield, catching him in the back of the thigh. Unused to such unconventional tactics, Temotio's leg dropped out from under him, and she moved in, battering away his sword, stepping onto the edge of his shield, and pointing her blade at his face.

  "Good enough, sir?"

  "It'll do. Where'd you miss?" Tristan stood with his arms crossed, looking every bit like an amused instructor.

  She flashed him a smile. "Chose not to break his nose. Forgave his lagging elbow, in case it was a trick."

  "Ah, wondered why you didn't take that. Acceptable answer. Walk it out, Ley. Two minutes, then we dance." He turned to the men around them. "You're welcome to join us. As a pair, we'll take on any of you willing to get bruised for it."

  The group began to murmur, their voices sounding excited. Men moved to find weapons, others found places to recline and watch. Leyli wasn't sure if Tristan was intentionally making a show of it, but she wondered. He knew how to gain respect. He'd had to in the training camps. If he was going to be announced as an officer, it would only help him to be seen as kind, jovial, and knowledgeable.

  While the King's guard armed themselves, Leyli stretched her aches. She'd been sparring regularly, but Tristan made her work for it. As she paced the edge of the sand with her elbow bent behind her head, leaning from side to side, she realized the guards weren't the only people watching, just the closest. A handful of ladies clustered at the edge of the stables, muttering between themselves.

  When she was picking up her weapons again, she recognized them. Three unwed noble daughters, they weren't out to complain about Leyli's actions. They were there to see the Lion. She moved back to the center of the arena, giggling.

  Tristan looked at her, confused. "What this time?" he asked.

  She tilted her head at the girls. "A wise man would find an excuse to lose his shirt. They think you're handsome."

  He stepped closer to her and dropped his voice. "And that amuses you?"

  "Yep." She tapped his chest with her wood sword. "Maybe you should offer fencing lessons or something. I'm sure you could fill your bed without problems."

  He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "It's already full." Then he stepped back with a devious grin. "Ready to dance?"

  Tristan picked up a shield and Leyli moved to his back. When he was ready, he thumped the sword against it, then shifted. She moved to adjust, closing her eyes for a moment to let herself feel the pressure of him behind her, then tapped her own. Around them, at least twelve men waited with swords.

  "Rules," Tristan called out. "Judge for yourself what should be a killing blow, and back out. We will try to keep the hits light, but our inclination is to kill anyone swinging a weapon against us, not pull the shot. If one of you manages a kill, we'll call it, and step away. Above all, be safe, because I'm sure you do not want to stand guard while aching."

  Then it began. Unlike gladiators, these men were trained to work together. It was harder than Leyli expected. Each time she attacked, someone was ready to block it. Each part of her that was exposed became a liability. When the men tried to draw her out, she almost fell for it, barely getting her shield up when the man beside her target swiped at her arm.

  Then Tristan turned. His strength, her speed, they wore down the enemy while sparing themselves. The guards tried, and held their own well, but the pair managed to take out almost half of them before Leyli was struck. She called the blow and ducked away, leaving Tristan to fend for himself. With the Princess out of the crush, the men fought even harder, but the Lion was up for it.

  He swung, knocking a shield away, then stabbed. The target grunted, stumbling back before he moved to sit at the side. The next man had his sword swept out of his grasp and a slap across his back for punishment. Knowing it wasn't going to cost him his life, Leyli took the chance to just watch.

  The Lion was magnificent. He fought like a beast, but looked like a god. She knew why the women were giggling and staring. She wasn't blind, but her affection for Tristan could never be more than friendship. She tried to love him like a brother, but knew it would never be the same. His hazel eyes and the pure perfection of his body weren't something she'd ever notice on Kale. The way Tristan's muscles bunched as he swung, or the shape of his rump, were little things she simply couldn't admit to enjoying. It would only cause problems.

  Eventually, the guards defeated him, but they were all laughing. The men clasped backs, wrists, and shoulders, congratulating each other. One by one, Tristan spoke to each of them, and she heard him asking their names and offering his. They all knew he was the Lion, but he hadn't been in the palace long enough to meet people, yet. Since these were the men he'd end up working with, she was glad to see they were all friendly.

  Then Tristan turned to her. He looked happier than she'd ever seen him before. Dropping his weapons on the ground, he grabbed her, swinging her around in a bear hug. Behind them, she heard a few surprised words. Such casual interaction with the Princess and heir of the country was shocking to men who'd only experienced proper nobility.

  "Put me down," she said, squirming as she giggled. "What was that for?"

  He gestured around them. "Ley, to you this is home. To me? It's heaven. I should be compost somewhere. I never should have been allowed inside the gates to the royal palace. I most certainly did not expect to find a miniature partner who could fight well enough to kill at least six highly trained professional soldiers." He shrugged. "Call it settling in."

  "Tristan?" She looked up into his eyes. "I know I shouldn't, but I'm actually kinda glad I ended up in the games."

  He pressed his forehead to hers and rubbed her arms for a moment before answering. "Yeah. Never thought I would, but I know what you mean. Let's get you dressed in something respectable."

  "I'm out of pink." She ste
pped back and grinned, knowing he hated the color.

  "Good." His hands turned her to the palace, the stable standing between them. "Green suits you more. Lavender makes your hair look brighter. Jewel tones show the glow in your skin."

  Her eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. "You are not like any man I've ever met."

  He shrugged. "No, because I had to figure it out. Ley, looking good as a gladiator means more fans. More fans means more events that are favorable. I never had to fight beasts or play in the skits because people wanted to see me solo. Well, or with you. Those fights kill men and knowing how to look the part kept me out of them. It's not just a woman's skill."

  "Then help me look like a princess."

  He opened his mouth to respond, but the young ladies stepped closer, moving like a swirl of pastel fabric. The one in blue stood before the others and curtsied as soon as Leyli looked at her.

  "Princess, I hope you don't mind us watching."

  "No, Sina, not at all. It's strange, being expected to fight every day."

  The girl in yellow moved closer. "Is it very hard?"

  "Yes." Leyli laughed, keeping her tone light. "When I had to learn, I thought my arms were going to fall off, but Tristan wouldn't let me rest."

  "Couldn't," he corrected.

  Standing behind the others, wearing a peach dress, the last girl looked at Tristan with undisguised awe. "Are you a lord, sir?"

  "No, my Lady, I'm not. Just a retired gladiator responsible for keeping the Princess safe."

  She looked at Leyli, then back to Tristan. "So you're on her guard?"

  "He is, Adelina," Leyli said, giving Tristan her name casually. "The Lion of Lenlochlien was assigned by my father."

  The three of them shared a look, then giggled. Behind her, Tristan shifted awkwardly. Leyli wondered if he was blushing, because none of the three even tried to hide their admiration. Gessica, the girl in yellow, kept playing with a loose ringlet of hair, trying to catch his eye.

  Only Sina seemed able to find her tongue easily. "I can see why they called him a Lion. It fits, sir."

  "It's actually a play on my last name, Lyone," he informed her, pronouncing it Lee-own.

  "Maybe you could help us play Go better. My brother always defeats my strategy." Sina smiled at him prettily.

  Tristan shook his head. "I'm afraid I would be little help. The only strategies I know are not suitable discussion with proper ladies." He chuckled. "The gladiatorial games are not civilized places, I'm afraid."

  "I bet you were magnificent," Gessica breathed.

  Leyli chuckled, looking back to see that Tristan's face showed no signs of red. He tipped his head at the girl. "I must admit, I was. I like to think I still am." He looked at Leyli. "Highness? I believe you are expected."

  She let him escort her through the stables and out of range before taunting him. "Not even a blush?"

  "No." He did not sound amused.

  "Tristan, those are the daughters of Amylad, Sanlien, and Bretonvale. They're some of the most sought after women in the nation."

  He looked at her. "Blue was horse faced. Peach was not only brainless, but also has neither an ass nor tits. Yellow is pig eyed and elephant eared. A chin might make her look tolerable."

  "So picky. Don't you know that noble women are known to be easier to bed in the dark?"

  He sucked at his teeth. "Hasn't been my experience."

  "Oh?" She turned, biting her lip as she teased him. "Did you ask the rank of your sluts or something? Tell me, how many lovely noble ladies have you encountered?"

  His eyes hit hers. "One, Ley. One very lovely, brilliant, and amazing woman of the highest birth."

  She paused. "Who?"

  He stepped into her, looking down at her face. "You."

  Before she could think of anything to say, he turned her back toward the palace. All Leyli could do was march on, praying that her mind caught up.

  Chapter 2

  She said nothing until she was back in her suite. The door was barely closed before she rounded on him. "What do you mean, me?"

  "Leave it alone, Ley." He walked past her to his rooms, but she followed.

  "No, that sounded like a compliment."

  "It was." He wrenched the shirt over his head, then tossed it to the side. Turning to find a clean one, he paused when he saw her standing with her mouth open. "You can't tell me no one's told you that before."

  "They haven't." She couldn't make her feet work. "I've been complimented for my sewing, my manners, but I've never been called pretty."

  "Ah, shit, Ley. You're not pretty." He sighed and snatched the shirt. "Babies are pretty. Horses are pretty. You're so much more than that. When commoners think about fancy noble women, we give them your face, because it's glorious. Leyli, you're beautiful. The kind of woman that poets write about."

  "Me?"

  "Yeah." He moved closer, running one hand over her head to the back of her neck. "You, little Wolf. Trust me, it's not an easy thing to ignore, but I try."

  She nodded slowly, struggling to accept the strange feeling. She was a princess. People gave her compliments on the unimportant things, so she'd assumed she was just as plain as the rest of her peers. To hear Tristan say otherwise made her giddy, warm, and want to smile.

  "It means a lot, coming from you." She hugged him, pressing the side of her face to his chest. "Thank you, Tristan. I know it doesn't matter, but it's kinda nice to feel pretty."

  "Beautiful," he whispered, tilting her head up. "If it makes you smile like that, maybe I'll remind you more often." His thumb brushed beneath her lip.

  She sucked in a breath - the touch was accidental, but intimate - and his eyes dropped to her mouth as he slowly moved his hand away. When he found her eyes again, he said nothing, but didn't step back. Leyli remembered what it felt like when he kissed her and realized her heart was pounding.

  Tristan blinked his eyes to the wall beside them. "Ley, I'm sorry about last time. I mean when you left with Theodian. I just didn't think I'd see you again."

  "It's ok."

  "It's not. It's a stain on your honor the Heir doesn't need."

  She stepped back and turned for her room. It wasn't just ok, it had been her first and only kiss. "My honor as a woman is ruined, Tristan. A noblewoman is expected to be chaperoned at all times. I had five months with no one who can say I wasn't raped. The habit of selling time with the winners is well known, even in the palace. The only thing I have going for me is that I am the last of my father's children, so I don't need to be submissive to my husband."

  He was following. "So, basically, you might as well be a widow. Your father's acceptance removes any social problem from what happened while you were in the games, right?"

  "Basically. They'll still talk about me in dark corners."

  "Fuck 'em."

  She giggled. "I'd rather not."

  "I say go with it, Ley. Throw it in their faces. Let them know you aren't a maid, and that any man you give the honor of marrying will be happy to accept that. You know, we commoners typically have our children only a few months after the hastily planned wedding."

  "Is that why you wanted to marry the miller's girl?"

  "No." The word fell out, sounding flat. "I was young and foolish, and thought that what she was offering was the best thing I could imagine. She said she loved me. I thought marrying her would make me a real man."

  "You still can, you know. I mean, get married. Secor are not prohibited from it."

  "I'd rather not. My brother can take the farm. My sister may even be married, or at least considering someone. Mom should be fine, since my sale would have paid off the property."

  She'd always accepted that Tristan would have lovers. It was his best way to earn money for when he was free. For the first time, she found herself glad he didn't want to marry, and she wasn't about to talk him out of it. "You know half the women in court will flirt with you."

  "I'm done being a bull, Ley. They want a stud, they can go to the stables."
He grabbed her arm and pulled her back against his chest. "I swore to follow you around, not chase skirts. I got my fill of being treated like a meal to be consumed and then forgotten. Right now, all I want is my best friend."

  "Yeah," she breathed. "I think that was the best part of being a gladiator."

  From the crease in his brow, she'd just confused him. "What was?"

  "Being your best friend. Knowing you were always there for me. Not needing to worry about who was better, because the world saw us as one."

  "We still are."

  She looked up to find his beautiful hazel eyes. "I know. They don't, but I do, and I'm not your better. I don't give a shit what title you were born with."

  "Everyone else in the palace does." He shrugged, but her profanity put a tiny twinkle in his eye. "They're the crowd, Ley. We perform for them. I'm not going to turn into your little bitch, or anything, but I can play the part of your big, scary protector. I'm kinda good at it."

  She giggled and stepped back, still needing to find a dress. "At least I know the women of court will be in favor of your position."

  "Have I become a fashion accessory? Next thing you know, all noble born women will have their own gladiator following them around?"

  "Mine will still be the handsomest."

  "Handsome? Isn't that what we call women that look like cattle so their feelings aren't hurt?"

  "Then what word is better?" She poked his bare chest.

  He caught her hand, his shirt hanging from the other. "Attractive? Sexy? Desirable? Delicious?"

  "Should I consider eating you for dessert?"

  He opened his mouth, paused, then dropped his head with a soft laugh. "Now that is a euphemism."

  She wrinkled her brow, trying to keep up. "What is."

  "Eating a man. Please do not ever say that in public." He laughed again. "I'm pretty sure someone would take my head for it."

  "What does it mean?" she demanded

  Lifting his hands, he stepped back. "Putting one's mouth on another's genitals. Most commonly used when referencing a man on a woman, but works the other way, too."

  "The tongue thing?"