The Alpha King’s Mate (The Alpha Series Book 4)

In Garnet Falls, my reception is just as loud, noisy, and boisterous as it was in Wellmore Village as I sit on the horse, properly this time, in front of Sir Hugo and can see everything. Hundreds of people gather around me, cheering and throwing flower petals at me.

‘Thank you, Princess!’ They shout.

I smile at their misplaced gratitude and avoid making eye contact with them.

They try to hand me gifts of food, flowers, fabrics, trinkets and smelling salts. I ignore all the gifts being passed to me, but Sir Hugo accepts anything of value and packs them in the overfilled saddle sacks behind himself.

‘I’m feeling anxious, it’s too much, and my head spins as people grab at my new dress and generally overwhelm me with their noise and presence. The energy inside me intensifies, and I wince in pain when the iron cuffs burn me. A few onlookers have noticed I’m in pain.

‘Avoid using your powers. You’ll only hurt yourself,’ Sir Hugo says, with a full handle on the reigns.

‘I can’t control it. Please get me away from here,’ I tell him.

Another surge of energy builds in my body before my wrists burn again.

‘Sir Hugo. Please. Leave,’ I beg him.

Sir Hugo’s horse walks backward out of the crowd, turns, and gallops away from the gathering.

Outside Garnet Falls, away from all the people, I’m much calmer, my breathing has slowed, and I’m able to relax and breathe properly. I exhale with relief.

‘Can you tell me what all that was about?’ Sir Hugo asks. His horse is walking at a nice steady pace in the direction of West Wallow Castle.

‘The crowd, all the people. They were grabbing me and pulling my dress. They were so loud. They were thanking me for something I didn’t want to do. Then, my powers came out of nowhere. I couldn’t control it,’ I explain, fatigued.

‘Well, I hope this isn’t an ongoing issue,’ he says.

‘Remove these iron cuffs, and it won’t be an issue,’ I say. Sir Hugo laughs heartily.

‘You know, you’d make quite the jester in our castle court,’ he says, chuckling.

‘How long until we’re at the castle?’ I ask.

‘Around a day and a half maybe sooner,’ he replies.

At twilight, Sir Hugo decides to make camp for the night, ties the horse and me to a tree, and collects twigs to make a fire. He then rummages through the gifts from my admirers and pulls out some dried meats and a hunk of bread. He halves the bread, and we eat in silence.

I think about Damon and Vivian and wonder if I’ll ever see them again.

The morning sun warms my face. I open my eyes and yawn.

‘Time to get moving,’ Sir Hugo says.

I wait for him to hoist me onto the saddle for the umpteenth time. He sits on the saddle behind me, nudges the horse, and it moves.

Finally, after hours of riding, we arrive at King Fenris’ training fields in the early afternoon.

‘Just up ahead is the training field, where our army is training. We will stop there first, in case King Fenris is there, and from there, we will go to the castle. The castle isn’t a far ride from the training grounds. I’ll be glad to get back to training the army,’ he says happily.

An assortment of silver and iron weapons clang together as men in armour, spread out over fifty hectares, joust and duel with swords, maces, axes, and bludgeons. Men shout across to one another in the fields.

We trot between two long rows of canvas tents, and as we approach King Fenris’ tent, the soldiers stop fighting and watch me, frozen to the spot, as we near the King. They have all completely forgotten that they’re meant to be training.

‘The stories of the princess are true!’ Someone shouts.

‘A goddess of beauty!’ ‘Her eyes!’ A few more men shout.

Sir Hugo extracts his sword from its sheath and points it into the air, yelling, ‘VICTORY WILL BE OURS! DEATH TO THE WEREWOLVES!’

The soldiers with weapons hold them high into the air, yelling, ‘DEATH TO THE WEREWOLVES,’ before they all loudly cheer.

Three men exit a large tent, inspect the commotion, and walk in our direction, smiling. When they’re closer, I realise the man in the middle is King Fenris. Like the man in my dream, he wears a red cloak and a gold crown, and he has the same blonde hair, blue eyes, and small scars on his right cheek.

Sir Hugo hops down from the horse to greet the men.

‘I’m so glad you accepted my offer of hospitality during these dangerous times,’ he says happily, his hands neatly clasped together.

‘King Fenris?’ I ask.

‘At your service.’ he smiles.

‘I’ve seen you before… in my dreams.’ I say.

The two men and King Fenris laugh.

‘Oh princess, there is no need to try and flatter me. I often have that effect on the ladies without even having to try.’ He says in a cocky manner.

‘That’s not what I meant… and I declined your offer of hospitality, just so you know!’ I say in anger.

King Fenris and the men stop laughing.

‘Yet, you are here,’ he smiles.

‘Against my will,’ I say.

The King gives me a look of confusion.

I raise my arms to show the chains.

‘I would love to hop down from this horse, but I cannot, seeing as I am in chains!’ I yell.

The king approaches me and inspects my shackled wrists with obvious painful burns.

‘Sir Hugo!’ King Fenris yells.

Sir Hugo approaches King Fenris and bows.

‘Yes, my King.’ he says.

‘What is the meaning of the shackles and chains?’ he yells at Sir Hugo. Sir Hugo looks up in confusion.

‘I told you to offer her temporary lodgings on my behalf so she would be safe until the war is over! Not kidnap and chain her up!’ He yells.

‘But my King…’ Sir Hugo tries to talk.

I gasp as Sir Hugo is struck across his face by King Fenris’ armoured hand. Blood dribbles from Sir Hugo’s nose.

‘Now get out of my sight before I have you lashed again!’ King Fenris yells. Sir Hugo looks angry. He wipes the blood from his nose and flicks it onto the ground.

 ‘Yes, my King,’ he says and walks away into one of the tents.

‘Princess, I’m so sorry for whatever Sir Hugo has put you through. He was meant to offer you safety at my lodgings, only if you accepted,’ he says sincerely.

‘So, I’m not being held captive here?’ I ask.

‘Of course not.’ He says. I let out a sigh of relief.

‘Commander James! General Zander! Help the Princess down from the horse immediately,’ he instructs.

The men approach and disconnect the cuffs from the horse’s reigns and around my wrists and hold me around my waist as I get down from the horse.

Commander James is looking at me and holding my waist longer than is necessary. I glare at him.

‘I’m so sorry, Princess. I don’t mean to stare. It’s just that you’re more beautiful than I imagined.’

King Fenris kneels, takes my hands and gently places a kiss.

‘Commander James is right. You are more beautiful than anyone could imagine,’ King Fenris says. I blush.

‘I’ll escort you to the castle and tend to those wounds. I’m sure you’re hungry and tired?’ He says.

‘I am and very thirsty too,’ I add.

‘We will head to the castle, and you can tell me about your journey,’ he says.

‘I’d like to talk to you about this war instead,’ I tell him.

‘Of course, I’m sure there is a lot you’d like to know.’ I nod.

King Fenris helps me into the carriage.

‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ he says, and I watch him return to a large tent.

He sits beside me in the carriage with a water pouch and a big smile. He is more handsome when he smiles.

‘Here. Have some water,’ he says, passing me the pouch. I quickly drink all the water.

‘You really are thirsty,’ he says, smiling.

‘Thank you for the water,’ I say, and King Fenris smiles.

‘You are most welcome, Princess,’ he says, with a twinkle in his eye.

‘Tell me. What’s your name?’ He prompts me.

‘Maia.’

‘It’s a beautiful name,’ he says.

I see the castle through the carriage window and lean out of it to get a better look.

‘Is that really West Wallow Castle?’ I ask, mesmerised by its beauty.

‘It is,’ he says.

‘I won’t be staying long,’ I say.

King Fenris briefly squints at me before quickly repositioning his body on the seat. He smiles and nods.

‘You’re free to leave whenever you wish.’ He says. I return the smile, happy and content I’m not going to be held here against my will.

King Fenris helps me out of the carriage. I loop my arm through his, and he escorts me up the stairs and into the castle.

Two footmen, a little shorter than I, stand by two twelve-foot-tall, white-glossed, open doors, holding their long gold handles, on ceremony. 

‘Your Grace,’ they say, bowing, and we walk inside the castle before stopping in front of a middle-aged woman in a long-sleeved, black dress and a keyring full of keys pinned to her dress pocket.