Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Penelope

I ride with Alfred, and one of his men brings my horse. My stomach is in knots as we head to meet my father and his contingent, who, we are informed, wish to parlay. I am aware of his big body where it presses to mine, of his arm casually looped around my waist where he holds the reins in a single hand.

My bottom aches.

I like that it aches.

Yet even that does not save me from the churning soul-searching that assaults me with every clomp of the horse's hooves.

I question the many life choices that have brought me to this point. Will my father be angry? I have tested his patience on many occasions, and I worry that this will finally tip him over the edge.

There is a nervous tension throughout the war party as we emerge from the forest, and the great city of Pershore comes into view.

The grassy plains leading toward it are dusted with snow, as are the cream-colored stone buildings that rise beyond the impressive outer wall, tall enough to swallow the first three stories. Towers and steeples peek between the network of roofs, rising ever higher toward the center, where, at the highest point, is the castle and my home where the red and white flags of Pershore flap in the winter breeze.

Pride swells in my chest as I see it through the eyes of an outsider.

There were points in my life when I wished I were born into a different life. Now, and unexpectedly, it does not feel so much a burden but an honor to one day ascend to the throne. To leave this great kingdom in the hands of someone unworthy is nothing less than a crime. It's true I do not agree with every decision my father makes, but I also try to learn from what he does and why.

His decision to keep the omega and her mate is still unwise, in my opinion, and also unjust when bonds have been made. Although, barbarian hordes aside, I believe my father would have eventually succumbed to common sense.

"Stay by my side when we dismount," Alfred says. "I want the bastard to see you. It will not end well for anyone if you try to run or get up to mischief. The lives of three people are on the line, and not only them but the unborn child that Freya carries."

"Do not preach to me, heathen," I say. "It was I who came to you, remember. I swore I would see them reunited and will do nothing to the detriment of it."

"Good," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I'd hate to have to spank your bare bottom in front of everyone, lest it tip us into war."

I growl under my breath, thinking about stabbing him.

But as we draw closer, I sense my impending doom. I don't need to see my father's face to know I have fucked up and will soon be married off to one of the many lords or princes who vie for my hand.

A sudden recklessness invades me, one I have felt before.

One that is usually a precursor to trouble.

Alfred

The lass is plotting something. I know this because she suddenly goes quiet, and I can all but smell the mischief on her. She doesn't have a nervous bone in her delectable little body, so I know it is not that. I don't have time to fucking caution her, nor to take her aside and spank some sense into her wayward behind. I tell myself I don't really know her, so her quietness could mean a myriad of things, and yet I also feel like I do.

I elect to remain vigilant for any trouble.

We pause a small way out, and our main forces spread out so the Hydorian bastards can get a good look at us.

It is not long before the tall city gates open, and a contingent bearing the Pershore flag rides out.

With a small party, I ride to meet them. We dismount and form up before striding forth to converse.

I see their king first. He is younger than I expected and decked out in all the finery that goes with being a Hydorian man of wealth, with a dark blue fur-trimmed cloak and a plate breast piece underneath that is so highly polished it near blinds me.

That is one way to disable the enemy, I suppose.

I have never been known for my tact or skills in negotiations, so it is perhaps not best thought through when I begin with, "So, you came to your senses, then."

Lor is standing at my side and, although my focus is on the king, I see him grimace out of the corner of my eyes.

Louie presides over one of the largest Hydornian kingdoms. I wasn't sure what I would make of him other than he would be a lot of hot air and bluster as Hydornian kings generally are, yet I sense he has his own measure of mettle and does not appear cowed by either me or my bold words. I decide I don't hate the pompous man with his overly bright breastplate, even if he does make questionable clothing decisions.

"You have my wayward daughter," he says dryly. "A man, be he king or otherwise, knows when he is outmaneuvered. Also, war is inconvenient and costly. If I'm going to spend money, I'd sooner have a shipment of Eldorian wine."

"Aye." I nod, glad that we are moving promptly on. I've heard legends of Eldorian wine but have yet to sample the goods. "I can relate to that."

"My daughter is well, I presume?"

An abrupt scoffing noise escapes me. The man cannot be seriously concerned. I raise my brows. "‘Well' is a subjective term when applied to the brat. I questioned whether she was really riding for pleasure or sent to assassinate us." I motion over my shoulder and the group behind parts, allowing two warriors to approach with Penelope between them. One has a bloody nose. The other is walking with a limp.

Gods, the lass is a veritable nightmare. I bite back my smirk, suffering no small amount of pride that she keeps my men on their toes. I should keep her around; it would keep their brat-taming skills sharp, that's for sure. I sigh heavily for effect. "The lass injured half a dozen men and left as many more with nervous twitches."

The king surprises me by chuckling. "Losing the omega is also inconvenient, not to mention I now have a dozen disgruntled suitors on my hands. I might need to offer them my daughter in her stead."

"No!" Penelope's screech is an assault upon my ears. "I cannot come back."

"Penelope," King Louie demands. "This is not the time for games. I know I have failed?—"

"We are mated," she interrupts, waving one imperious hand in my direction.

"Eh?" I grunt. It is not often I am caught off guard in this way. I expect this nonsense from the lasses in the village. What the fuck is she up to?

"He kissed me!"

"The fuck does—" I begin.

"He claimed me!"

Certain this is some kind of ruse, I plant my fists on my hips and scowl down at her, trying to ignore the strange quickening I feel. The lass is playing me, for sure. "It was a heat of the moment thing, and we?—"

"I could be pregnant!"

"We did not go that fucking far, woman!" I state gruffly, folding my arms.

"We were alone, unchaperoned all night in his tent where he did unspeakable, barbarian things to me!"

I cannot dispute this part and suspect my face says as much.

"Enough!" Louie hisses. "If the high king hears of this scandal, Pershore will be invaded by nightfall. You will have to be married."

"Of course, Father," Penelope says, bowing magnanimously to her king before peeking at me under her lashes and throwing me for a loop.

"Lass, your bottom will be cherry red and sore beyond reckoning by the time I'm done with you."

"A big lavish wedding," the king continues, as if this is a serious discussion. "An alliance between our kingdoms is the only way we can pitch this." He motions his advisor over. "Draft a notice. Send for the planners!"

"I'm a barbarian," I say, gesturing toward myself. No one is even looking at me. Lor is smirking, the bastard, and is all fucking perky again now the matter of his mates is resolved. "And an alpha. We do not get fucking married."

Why the fuck this should worry me, I don't know. I am still reeling and waiting for someone to start laughing.

"A small detail." The king waves a dismissive hand.

Gods help me, they are all full of their own importance. Little wonder Penelope turned out how she did… "It is not a small fucking detail to me!" This is moving ahead very fucking fast. No fucking way I am getting married. I am willing to compromise on some things, but assuredly not this.

Compromise? Gods, my head is spinning.

"I don't mind mating him," Penelope offers.

My belly tightens, and my blood pounds in my ears as I allow myself to look at her, to meet her eyes, to see there, plainly, that this is no ruse.

Mine.

Before the gods, old and new, this woman is going to be mine, claimed and bred. Clearly, keeping her belly well planted is the only option if I'm to gain any measure of control. "Damn right, you will be mated, and then I'll show you just how a lass gets with child."

Her eyes turn hooded, and she coos with delight.

My jaw snaps shut as I realize this was what she was plotting on the damn horse. The lasses in the village could learn a lesson or two from this princess. I've just been outsmarted by a little girl, and I'm not even mad.

The king is calling orders.

Penelope sidles up to me, all fucking fake meekness.

Damn, this was not how I expected the day to turn out, but as I drag my scowl away from the brat and I see Lor, Aston, and Freya reunited, I decide I don't fucking mind.