*Unknown person's POV*
As a man who has seen and experienced a lot in life, not much surprises or even disturbs me anymore. But both Ragnar and I felt a sudden surge of anger today. Just moments ago, we were chuckling under our breath about finally getting a chance to see some action—it had been a while since we'd enjoyed such sights. But now, standing before me was a stunning woman—completely naked, yes—but all I could see were her scars. They were incredibly fresh as if the wounds had only just closed up. For shifters, scars are almost unheard of unless someone uses silver and wolfsbane. There was also a part of a tattoo visible on her neck, the kind left when a partner marks their mate. It was still distinct, so her mate hadn't died. I couldn't fathom how any male could allow his mate to be so brutally beaten and mutilated... to be fleeing in such a panic. If she were mine...
I darkened with thought, and Ragnar whimpered softly.
I looked away, reaching into my bag to pull out a cloak, which I threw to the stranger.
"It's all I have... nothing fancy and rather stale, but..." I trailed off and shrugged, feeling suddenly unable to look at her again. I was too angry... and frustrated.
*Nemesia's POV*
I caught the cloak he tossed to me. Currently, I didn't have the luxury to be picky or complain, so I accepted it with gratitude. Then, I wrapped it around myself and took another look at the man. It was still hard to guess his age, but one thing was clear—without that smile, he looked like someone who'd been through a lot.
"Thank you," I said, unsure of my next words but eventually speaking up anyway. "I'm... Nemesia. My lycan's name is Athena."
I knew it was probably foolish to reveal so much... but someone like him was unlikely to know who I was and that I was being hunted... besides, it felt odd accepting his cloak without introducing myself at all.
"Evar and Ragnar," he cleared his throat and introduced himself in such a straightforward manner that the corner of my mouth twitched into a smile. He must have noticed because he rolled his eyes.
"What? You expect me to curtsy or something?" he asked grimly.
I burst out laughing. "Why would I?"
"You Lycans like that kind of stuff, right? Elegance and all. Good manners, bla bla," he shrugged, seemingly embarrassed by my amusement.
I tilted my head, pondering. "Hmm... there is something to that. But a curtsy isn't enough if you don't have a pretty dress to grab while you do it," I said with deadly seriousness.
A moment of silence followed, us just looking at each other until we both burst out laughing.
*Evar's POV*
Damn it. The Warrior Princess—as Ragnar had started calling her—clearly had a sense of humour.
"Alright, now that the ice is broken, why don't you tell me what you're doing so far from the capital? And who... did this to you?" I asked bluntly.
I'm not one to beat around the bush. That's definitely not my style, oh no.
Her mood darkened at my question, which I understood. We sat in silence for a bit longer. Why should she tell me, after all? It made no sense... nothing we did or said since the meeting made any sense. Apparently, I was more starved for company than I thought... and she might need someone to listen more than she appeared to. Sometimes, beneath a tough exterior and a confident facade, everyone has a soft heart that can be easily wounded. Maybe she was like that? Bleeding internally and needing someone who would listen and not judge?
Her sigh brought me out of my thoughts.
"Really, there's not much to say. My fated mate, the future king... took a fancy to some Omega wolf who's been through the wringer, betrayed me with her, and when I reacted, suddenly I found myself chained to a post, whipped, and condemned to a stay in THE Tower... Suddenly, instead of a future queen, I was some kind of monster or something," she shrugged at the end as if she was talking about the weather that morning.
"Ah... shit," my response might not have been eloquent, but what was I supposed to say? She wasn't just any Lycan... she was THAT Lycan!
"The Silver-Handed Princess..." I murmured the nickname that had circulated among the common folks of the kingdom.
Normally, you'd say 'Iron-Handed' or something, but for a shifter, there's nothing worse than silver. Many of us had heard that she was merciless but also very just. That she would do anything for her mate and was both his shield and sword.
"Wait... not to be rude... but did you not essentially put that jackass on the throne yourself?" I asked after a moment.
"What...? How... how do you know?" She looked surprised.
"Nem... can I call you Nem? Short, right? Doesn't matter. I will. Anyway... Nem, the amount of gossip and nearly legends that swirl around you... the farther from the capital, the more and the more detailed they are. You are spoken of as both a figure to be feared and respected. Children are threatened that if they aren't good citizens, you'll come for them... and on the happiest days, they thank the goddess and the care of the Silver-Handed Princess, who looks after our well-being. Get it? Fear and love. That's what people say about you. And you're trying to tell me that some nobody, who really no one talks about and everyone dismisses... he's throwing YOU out... for some trash?" I summed it all up as succinctly as possible.
*Nemesia's POV*
"Wow. Silver-Handed Princess? What a cool nickname!" I heard Athena's voice and slightly nodded, still in shock.
"And here I thought I was being discreet," I muttered.
"Discreet? And that maybe all this was thanks to that... ee.. I don't even know what our future king's name is.." Evar scratched the back of his head but didn't seem embarrassed.
He made me feel a bit better. I didn't know how people in this kingdom thought of me... that I had become such a figure for them.
"Hm. Fear and love, you say," I whispered.
I looked in the direction I had come from. I furrowed my brows.
"I tried love. Maybe it's time for fear..." I said quietly under my breath, but Evar must have heard because a sly smile appeared on his face.
"Good old-fashioned revenge?" He asked.
Just a moment ago, my main thought was escape. Yes... I had promised myself revenge, but I hadn't dwelled on it much. But now... the desire for revenge grew.
"Yes... But it won't be easy... not to hide, nor to do anything when I still carry his mark," I placed a hand on my neck and briefly saddened. I remembered when his fangs sank into my skin. How happy I had been...
"I might be able to help with that," I heard Evar's words as if through a fog.
I raised my head and narrowed my eyes suspiciously.
"First off, what's in it for you? And second... sorry, but you don't look like someone who has the means or skills... that special," I said doubtfully.
"Oh... and here I might surprise you... perhaps I should have introduced myself more fully... I am Evar 'Black Howl' not without reason... maybe I'm a loner living wild, but I have contacts among many interesting groups... including rebels living in the mountains.. those who oppose the current rulers... I think both you and I could benefit from this. You get a chance for revenge, and they'll throw some coins my way. Everyone's happy," the man already looked like he had just received the money and was planning how to spend it.
I raised an eyebrow sceptically. I had heard of shifters opposing the Lycan rulers. I had long argued at court that it was time to change how we treat other shifters. Maybe this was indeed a good opportunity for me. I couldn't do much on my own...
"Let's see if you really have such connections... Fine. Take me to them," I said decisively.
"Any please?"
"Do I have to ask you when your eyes are gleaming at the thought of money?"
"Right. Don't ask. I'll do it anyway." His laughter was pleasing to the ear, even though he seemed like a typical smart aleck.
I looked towards the mountains. My only fear was whether, by fleeing one danger, I was running straight into the claws of another?