Chapter 13

Drogo

I sit by the campfire. The rough blanket beneath me does little to cushion the hard ground. The fire crackles and pops. The warrior next to me moves his hand around erratically as he tells the story of the last witch that he killed. I drink my scotch and laugh. We're all happy and relieved to stop and set up a real camp, rest properly, without the constant fear of being ambushed. It's good to be back on home soil and away from witch territory, even if we ended up having to bring one back with us.

A tiny, irritating witch.

"I put a sword right through the damn bitch," Astro says, throwing back his head and laughing.

"Did she get back up afterward?" Flint asks, his lip curling.

Astro grins. "Not after I cut off her head."

Everyone is laughing now. Getting drunk. Feeling good for the first time since we were sent on this fucking cursed mission. Some of the sentries near the pass have even stopped by, probably bored, but also happy that the passage is finally quiet.

Not that we think this will last forever.

"I never thought I'd get to see the passage," Rinan says beside me, and his pale blue eyes focus on the space between the mountains like he's picturing the thousands of shifters that have died there over the past few centuries.

Handing him my flask, I feel anger flash through me. "Our dads are overprotective. Telling us that the fucking passage isn't for princes. Like we're just supposed to send our people off to die there when we're not willing to do the same."

Even though my brothers went, and look how that ended.

He casts me that look that makes me realize my hands have curled into fists, and I loosen them. "It's frustrating, but one wrong spell in our direction and our packs have lost their leaders. I get it."

"I don't."

He snorts, then drinks. There's silence for a minute before he says, "Did you see what she did with the metal? What was that all about?"

My back stiffens. The Valknut. If a shifter had made it with his own two hands, we all would have bowed in respect. A Valknut is a symbol for those who have died in battle. If we could have constructed one in that passage to give peace and respect to those shifters who had died for our freedom, we would have. But until now, going to the passage meant being under attack… not exactly the right place to construct something. Yet, it was a witch who made the symbol.

Why? The question had been plaguing me ever since. "It's some kind of manipulation." My words come out a growl.

He frowns at me. "She said the metal spoke to her."

I humph and reach for the flask.

He hands it back to me. "You don't believe her?"

"Witches do some freaky shit, but they don't talk to metal. If they could, don't you think they'd use metal in battle?"

"What about the names? We don't know the names of all our people that have died, but there were certainly many names on the Valknut that I recognized, so I believe the names were real. How did she do that?" Rinan's got that look. Like he's been bewitched by Princess Tara's spell.

I swallow hard around the lump in my throat, certain that I'll never forget seeing my brothers' names etched in that metal, no matter how old I grow. "I bet her bitch mom gave her a list of names for her spell. Maybe only the people who… talked," were tortured, "before their deaths got their names added."

But even as I say the words, I actually pray I'm wrong. I know they didn't have enough of my brothers to bring back for the funeral, but every night of my life I begged the gods that their death was fast and painless. Anything more I couldn't bear.

"Or maybe they're just witches," he says, and I know he's trying to comfort me. "Witches who fucking know everything."

"Maybe," I mutter.

He seems to consider my words, and then his words come out even more gently than before. "Then why the Valknut? Specifically? How could she manipulate us with it?"

I don't know. "Maybe she hoped knowing something about our culture would gain her some respect. Whatever her plan, it failed. We will tolerate her as long as we have to and nothing more."

Someone's telling another war story, but I'm focused on Rinan. He's the softest of us. A bleeding heart. But that doesn't work in war, and make no mistake, we're in a war with this tiny witch. She may be beautiful, she may act the part of some innocent creature, but no witch is truly that way. All their hearts are blackened and their souls are as gray as death.

"Tolerate her?" he asks softly, glancing across from us. "Or be cruel to her?"

Following his gaze, I spot the tent on the other side of our camp. Well, not an actual tent, there"s just a pile of tent parts for our dear princess to put together herself. I'd commanded our men to leave it alone. I might have had no choice about marrying her, but I'd be damned if my men did anything to make her life easier. Yes, her sleeping in the open means I'll have to watch the snake in our midst without the comfort of my tent, but I don't give a damn, as long as I hurt her.

Let her see she won't make a fool of us.

"You're waiting for her," Rinan accuses.

"I'm not," I lie.

The truth is that I want to see the look on her face when she realizes that every tent is up but hers. That we're finally stopping long enough to use tents, and she won't have one. I want to watch it dawn on her that just because she's beautiful, we're not going to fall all over ourselves to help our enemy. She might have married three shifter princes, but that doesn't make her one of us. That doesn't mean we've forgotten that she's a damn witch.

"Your father wants us to do this right. All our fathers do. It's important."

My gaze darts to his angrily. "Yet, the three of us have a plan, because we know how flawed their fucking plan is, right?"

After a minute, he sighs, "Right."

This peace treaty was a mistake. Those witches don"t know what peace is, and I need to know why they tossed their princess to us so easily. I know it"s a trap. I know she"s here to hurt us, but I refuse to let that happen. Our fathers might not be thinking clearly, but I am.

"A plan that involves… being assholes?" Rinan shoots another glance at the unmade tent.

He's soft on our symbol of the peace treaty – the fucking witch princess herself – for reasons I can't understand. The rest of us can't stomach her.

Astro leans over the fire, his gaze locking on me. "So, what do you think Her Highness is going to do when she spots that?" he says, gesturing toward the tent.

I smirk. "Cry."

"Nah." He shakes his head, the over-exaggerated movements of a man who"s had too many. "I've been fighting these bitches for years. She'll go crazy. She'll try to burn down the campsite, or melt all our tents, or send the fucking trees down on us."

"And then she'll realize there's more of us than her," I say.

Everyone laughs.

Flint stands. "They think they're so powerful in battle. Let's see her put her tail between her legs when she realizes there's a full fucking pack to take her down!"

I take another swig of my scotch, feeling it burn its way down to my stomach. The guys are taking bets. Some think she'll cry. Others think she'll throw a tantrum. Still others think she'll go ballistic and show her true colors. Frankly, I'll enjoy any of the three. Anything that gets her to realize her place amongst us.

"This isn't a good idea," Rinan tells me softly.

I want to smack the idiot. "Why?"

Now, we're whispering. Talking amongst ourselves while the others continue their tales about battling witches. We can't have the others know what we're planning. No one can know.

He shakes his head. "It's just not. I think it'd be better to leave her alone, be neutral, and follow the plan. We don't need to get her angry. We don't need to become–"

"Enemies? News fucking flash, we are enemies."

He quiets. "You were fine with using the servants for your own tent…"

"I deserve a tent. She deserves to be spanked." Despite all my hatred for her, my body reacts to the thought of smacking that tight little ass.

There's something wrong with me.

"So, I guess… we're doing this. Bullying her. A group of grown men."

For some reason, I feel guilty. Maybe because being mean to Rinan is like kicking a puppy. "She needs to learn the hard way," I mutter.

Rinan nods in agreement, but there's hesitancy in his eyes that I choose to ignore. He's easy to sway especially when there's a woman involved. The thing is, she's no closer to being a pretty woman than I am, even if she looks the part.

Princess Tara wanders back into camp, her ever present smile beaming. Despite all my thoughts, I can't help but notice her as a woman. As much as I hate it. The thing is, if she wasn't an evil she-bitch wrapped in a cloak of deadly spells, she'd be just my type. Actually, she's a type I hadn't even realized I was into. Shifter women are tall and strong. She's tiny. Petite. The top of her head barely comes to my shoulders, and my dick kind of likes the thought of what it'd be like to be with such a tiny woman.

I bet I could spin her on my dick like a fucking clock.

The instant the thought enters my mind, I push it away. Her hair is too dark. Her eyes are too big and too wide. Her smile makes her eyes light up in an irritating way. I have no desire to spin her on my dick or have her within ten feet of me. She's here because I've been tethered to her like a leash to a dog, that's all.

And she's going to learn this dog can bite.

She yawns and looks around. Her gaze falls on Rinan, and she comes closer to us. "Where do I sleep?"

Instantly, her scent washes over me and my groin tightens. Lilies. She smells like fucking lilies. The flower known for lovers, because the scent is both sensual and sweet. I can't believe this witch bitch smells like the afterlife for shifter warriors, like Odin's Hall.

I'm hard. I don't even know how or why. She's staring at us, looking nervous, and I get the feeling that Rinan is actively refusing to be involved in this. I should be talking. I should be taunting her. Instead, my gaze is fixed on her chest. For such a small woman, she's disproportionate in all the best places.

My cock is hard, ridiculously hard, and my wolf is awake inside of me, drinking in her scent like a desperate creature, and neither I nor my wolf is desperate. If she were any other woman, I'd bury myself balls deep inside her, relieve this pressure, and try never to think of her ever again. But she's not any other woman, she's a witch and our enemy.

This must be witch magic. Her mom must have taught her how to smell this damn good. I bet her fucking pussy tastes like the sweetest treat. I bet it's magicked to lure us under her spell.

"Uh," she clears her throat, "so, uh, where did you say I should sleep?"

Angrily pushing aside my desire, I can't help the sardonic smile that forms on my lips. "Oh, are you looking for your tent, Princess?" I gesture mockingly towards the pile.

When her gaze falls on the pile of tent parts, she looks so damn confused that were she anyone else, I'd feel bad. But it's her, so I don't.

"Sweet dreams!" Astro shouts.

The men erupt into laughter, but I don't. I'm too focused on her coming meltdown. So focused that if I were in a seat, I'd be on the edge of it.

But to my surprise, Princess Tara just stares for half a minute before she shrugs and turns to the tent. Everyone quiets as she approaches it. Circling the pile, she studies the pieces with narrowed eyes, seemingly trying to figure out how the pieces fit together.

"She's going to try to put it together by herself?" I mutter in total disbelief.

Where is the magic? Where is the tantrum? Where is the moment she shows her ass to all of us and proves exactly why we should all hate her?

She stands before the pile now, hands on her hips. "Right then," she mutters to herself, rolling up her sleeves with a determined squint in her eyes. And I want to look away, but I can't, as she kneels down and picks up a tent pole. She holds it like it's a foreign object, turning it over in her hand with her brow furrowed in concentration.

Come on. What the fuck are you doing? Put it down and show us what an asshole you are.

Instead, she tries to fit the pole into another piece, but it's clearly the wrong slot. The pole wobbles precariously, and she sticks her tongue out slightly, laser focused. But when she tries to cram the two pieces together, they don't fit. Because they don't fit.

When she figures it out, she keeps trying to put pieces together. Sometimes she lifts up the tent material when she does it. Sometimes she steps back and tries to look at everything from different angles, but whatever she does, it doesn't work… because it's impossible without someone else to help her.

Rinan tenses beside me when a pole she stuck into another piece falls and hits her on the head. He starts to rise, and I put a hand on his shoulder to push him back down. His gaze sweeps to me, and he looks annoyed, but I shake my head.

This is nothing. Witches have killed and tortured our kind. Countless shifters have died at the hands of her own mother. No one should be feeling bad for her.

No one else is, right?

I glance around the camp, and most of the men look amused by what we're watching. It's strange. I'm not the type of guy to enjoy humiliating other people, but she deserves this. She does. They know it too. Yet, I'm not enjoying this as much as I thought I would.

Someone puts more wood on the fire. Embers rise up around us, and she wipes sweat from her brow, still eyeing the tent like it's an enemy she'll eventually conquer. Except, she won't. All her work is in vain. She can never put together that tent by herself.

This is… funny. A small punishment. Just the first of the many miserable things we'll do to her before this sham of a marriage ends.

I don't take my eyes off of her.

The tent fabric lies sprawled on the ground like a defeated beast, and Tara steps around it, hesitant but determined. She picks up another pole, and for a moment, it seems like she might have found a way to stretch far enough to get one side up, even with her tiny stature. But then, with a dramatic wobble and a surprised yelp, the whole thing collapses.

I snicker and take another swig from my mug. But when I do, I notice the men around me aren't laughing anymore. They're tense, like Rinan, with their eyes focused on Princess Tara.

Fuck. I forgot how protective shifters are. The tiny woman is appealing to their instincts on a basic level. The instinct to protect things weaker and smaller than us. To never allow a female to be hurt in our care. But they're forgetting that she's not a woman. She's a witch.

Is her little show really making them forget?

She steps back, hands on her hips, and lets out a long, exaggerated sigh. "Okay, tent, you win this round," she declares.

Tent? Round? What the fuck is she talking about?

"Come on," she says, her voice cutting through the silence of the campsite. "We can be friends, right?"

I didn't see talking to inanimate objects coming. The silence of the camp is uncomfortable. I glance around, and the men look unhappy. They're drinking, but not like before. The laughter is gone. The stories are gone.

Come on. She's not a female. She's a witch.

"What's taking you so long, Princess?" I taunt her, hoping to get a laugh out of the camp and bring them back to reality.

No one laughs. They do avoid my eye contact.

Cowards.

She smiles, her gaze finding mine, and I hate how her smile reaches her big brown eyes. "My good buddy Tent here is not cooperating. But don't worry. I tend to figure most things out on my own. I've got this."

"I doubt it!" I shout.

No one laughs, but her smile never leaves her lips.

She turns back to the tent. This time she uses a different strategy of trying to wedge a pole against a tree for support. She's creative, I'll give her that, but she's still going to fail.

The pole slips, and the fabric flutters to the ground again.

She lets out a surprisingly happy laugh. "I guess we're not friends just yet!" she exclaims.

I notice a few of my men smiling, but not like they're laughing at her, more like they're smiling back at her, which I don't like one bit. A few of the other men are staring at the ground. I think they might feel ashamed that they're leaving a female to do this. But they shouldn't feel that way, should they? They're shifters. Warriors. How is she getting to them so easily?

Rinan stands now and takes a couple steps toward her. I'm on my feet in an instant, leaping between him and her. If he caves now, all of this is for nothing. Doesn't he get it? She'll see that she can weave us around her little finger. This thing might feel like an insignificant power play, but it's more than that.

He folds his arms across his chest. His face is tight and his jaw set. This isn't Rinan. He doesn't stand against me. Already she's causing problems. Can't he see?

"She'll give up, eventually," I tell him. "Leave her to it. Come back to the fire."

He doesn't listen and just stands there like a statue. Stubborn. Foolish. Irritating. But at least he doesn't keep trying to help her.

The sun is making its way higher in the sky. Someone starts a stew cooking over the fire. Still, she doesn't give up. On her next attempt, she manages to get one side of the tent up, but as she rushes to the other side, the first side collapses with a dramatic swoosh. Her foot gets caught in the fabric, and she stumbles, arms flailing in a wild dance to regain her balance.

"Whoa there!" She chuckles, steadying herself. "You didn't have to try to take me out, Tent. I'm trying to help you here. To make you whole."

Someone laughs, but covers it with a cough. Two men get up angrily and stalk away, shifting into wolves and racing out into the woods. Like they can't handle watching this.

Weak. Pathetic. Cowards.

This is not what I expected. She's putting on quite a show, but she's neither frustrated nor angry. Instead of acting like a pampered princess, she's acting… I don't know, like she doesn't mind any of this. Like us making her do this is perfectly okay. But no one, woman or princess, would think this was okay. To be treated with ridicule. To be treated as less than.

So what the hell is her deal?

The men still here keep looking at me. My head shake lets them know to leave her be. They look uncomfortable. Some are even glaring at me. I wanted to laugh at her and see her riled up, but this isn't fun at all. Of course, the Princess Witch sucked all the fun out of it.

"She's struggled enough, Drogo," Rinan tells me as he takes a step towards her. I grab his arm.

"No."

He yanks his arm away and returns to looking like a sentinel. The camp is now full of sentinels watching her, waiting for me to say the word before they all race to put it together for her.

Has she really won?

After one last collapse, she stands, looking thoughtful as she eyes the fabric. At last, she spreads the fabric out flat on the ground and lies on top of it. Using some of the material, she pulls it over her like a blanket, and stares up at the sky. "Best tent ever," she declares with a satisfied nod. Her hands move behind her head like she's relaxing in luxury, not like she's the only woman out here in the wild with a bunch of men.

I shake my head and cross my arms, unable to keep the scowl off my face.

It's absolutely inappropriate for a woman, for our wife and a princess, to sleep out in the open like this. She has to know that. She has to know that no man here can go into their tent and sleep comfortably knowing she's out here.

Fucking hell.

I'm not sure what she's trying to do here, but she foiled me brilliantly without seeming to try. She's good.

I don't stop Rinan this time when he tries to help her.

"The tent requires two people," he tells her as he comes to kneel down beside where she lays.

She looks up at him, almost like she's not quite sure if he's there to help her or hurt her, which makes me feel uncomfortable in ways I don't understand. "That must be why I sucked at putting it together."

He runs a hand through his short blond hair, looking more ashamed than I like. "Yeah, sorry about that, but can I help you now?"

She shrugs. "You don't have to. I don't mind sleeping out here. It's really no trouble."

I scoff. I'm sure the princess, used to her fluffy bed and fine sheets, is perfectly okay sleeping on the ground. In the open. With a bunch of strange men.

Rinan gives her a small smile, and his smile… I swear it lingers too long. "I don't mind. Really."

She seems reluctant, but he offers her his hand, and she climbs out of the tent fabric. When she's on her feet, again, I feel like they're too close. And is he smelling her? Fuck.

I watch as she bounces around while she and Rinan put the tent up efficiently. There's a spring to her step that I don't understand. An ease in the smile dances across her face. It's like she truly doesn't hold the slightest grudge for what we just did, which doesn't make sense. Witches are vengeful, heartless bitches.

None of this makes sense.

Regardless, this isn't good for our plan. She's a complication. An annoyance. And someone who seems to know just how to get her greatest enemies to sympathize with her.

Tara, the witch princess, is an unforeseen player, and I don't know the true objective of her game, but I will figure it out.

Arlys returns having, surprisingly, changed. I wonder about it, but don't ask. I just wait until he sits next to me, then quietly say, "The witch is trouble."

He startles. "How so?"

I want to tell him what happened with the tent, but he wouldn't like it. As much as Rinan didn't like me doing it in the first place, he's never one to stand up against Arlys and I. Arlys, though, he would have shot that shit down right away and given me a talking to, like a damn father, for pulling such petty garbage on the witch.

He doesn't understand that sometimes petty is necessary.

"She's just playing the role of innocent victim when we all know she can use her magic to fix any problem. It's a fucking act to get us under her thumb, I know it."

Arlys gets a funny look on his face.

"What?" I ask, suspicion creeping into my voice.

He hesitates, seeming reluctant to speak, then pushes on. "There was an incident with some water a few minutes ago."

"Incident?" Why is he talking in codes?

"A-an accident, I think."

Arlys is always confident, going into every conversation like he's rehearsed it a million times. But right now? He's practically stammering like a child who has gone wee wee on the rug. And I know it's because that damn witch is involved somehow.

I huff. "An accident involving the witch? If so, you need to remember that nothing the witches do is accidental."

Arlys gives me a hard look. "You know, Drogo, the witches are just people like us, with homes and families. They are our enemies, but they're not some never-ending sinister force. They eat, sleep, and pee, just like the rest of us."

"People? They're not fucking people. They're heartless killing machines."

A pole hits Rinan in the head and Princess Tara is instantly checking him over to ensure he's okay. He leans into her touch as she inspects his head, and then they're both laughing. There's an unexpected light in her eyes when she laughs. It'd be pretty on any other woman.

Arlys catches my glance and smirks. "She's a real monster."

I scowl. "Don't pretend you don't know what she is. Now, about this water incident?"

He shifts, looking uncomfortable, and Arlys never looks uncomfortable. "She got water all over me."

I wait. "And…?"

He clears his throat. "Then tried to dry me."

"Okay…" I stare, still not understanding.

He's shifting again, looking like he might bolt. "Some of that drying got a tiny bit, I don't know, intimate."

Every muscle in my body stiffens. "Did she fucking jerk you off?"

His eyes widen in horror. "No, no, nothing like that!"

I shake my head, feeling even more angry. "Yet another example of her manipulation. I bet they've taught her to use that hot, little body of hers to get whatever she wants. I bet she's going to be working every minute of her day to try to lure us into bed." My heart is racing. My palms feel sweaty.

He shakes his head. "I don't think so. I don't think she's like that at all."

"Damn it." I glare, but I feel on the edge of defeat. "You're already under her spell."

He sighs, rather dramatically. "Drogo, can I be straight with you?"

I don't know where this is going, but I don't think I'll like it. "Alright."

He keeps his tone soft and gentle. "Do you remember when you were a boy, you would come to us in tears because your brothers were picking on you? We tried to give you advice. We tried to guide you, but it just hurt you so deeply that your big brothers only ever saw you as an annoying baby."

I swallow hard, remembering. I was five years younger than my youngest brother, but they were only a year apart from each other. While they were racing around having adventures, I was always left at home with my mother. It hurt. I wanted to be loved by them. I wanted them to be my friend. It was only when I hit my teen years that we became close… and then it wasn't long after that they were murdered by the witches.

Thinking of all those years we lost together hurts, even today.

"What's your point?" I say more harshly than I intended.

Arlys studies me for a moment, then continues. "You might hate it, but you've always been sensitive. You've always felt things too deeply. That's a wonderful thing when it comes to things like love and loyalty, but it's not such a great thing when it comes to things like hatred, fear, and sadness. If you're not careful, those powerful emotions are going to consume you when it comes to Princess Tara, and you're going to screw up… and we can't screw this thing up."

His green eyes never leave my face. With anyone else, I might argue, but Arlys isn't cruel or judgmental. When he says something, he says it because his heart's told him it's important. He's giving me this warning because he's worried for me.

I turn back to see Rinan and the princess beaming at each other.

My heart twists, but I know the truth. This woman should be handled like the she-demon she is. I'm not treating her that way because I'm still angry over my brothers' deaths… I simply hate her, her kind, and everything she represents. And, one day, I'll be the one dancing on the graves of her family members, starting with her bitch mom.

Not that I can say all of that to Arlys. He'd just worry more.

Releasing a slow breath, I try to keep my voice calm. "I'll try to control my anger, but only for you. I don't owe this witch anything."

And I will. I can be calm when destroying her.

He squeezes my shoulder. "Thank you, Drogo. Brother."

Brother. My chest aches. I may have lost my blood brothers, but I'll never lose Arlys and Rinan. No matter what I have to do.

No matter what it costs me.