Chapter 7: Trouble in the Village
Amara sat in her chambers, the morning light streaming through the window as she stared at the worn map spread out across her desk. She had borrowed it from Norman, the steward, under the guise of familiarizing herself with the estate's lands. In truth, her focus was the small village on the western border, the one she had overheard the soldiers discussing. Her finger traced the path that led there, winding through dense forests and rocky hills.
She knew she was taking a risk. Kael had made it clear that he considered the situation under control, but she couldn't shake the image of terrified villagers, abandoned to face the threat alone. If Kael wouldn't act quickly, then she would.
With a determined breath, she stood and began preparing for the journey. She chose a practical gown, one that allowed for movement, and pulled her hair into a simple braid. Calling for Celia, she outlined her plan in a calm but firm voice.
"You're going to the village?" Celia asked, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you out of your mind? What if you're attacked?"
"I won't be alone," Amara replied. "I'll take a small group of servants and guards. We'll assess the situation and return before anyone notices."
Celia crossed her arms, her brow furrowed. "And what happens when Lord Vyren finds out? He'll be furious."
Amara hesitated, the weight of Celia's words settling over her. But then she straightened her shoulders. "If he's angry, so be it. These people are under his protection—and mine. I can't ignore them."
With a resigned sigh, Celia helped Amara gather supplies, muttering under her breath about stubborn nobles and reckless bravery.
The group departed mid-morning, the servants carrying baskets of food and bandages while two guards accompanied them on horseback. The road to the village was rough, winding through dense forests where sunlight barely penetrated the canopy. The air was cool, filled with the earthy scent of moss and damp leaves.
Amara rode in silence, her gaze fixed ahead. Her heart thudded in her chest, a mixture of fear and resolve. She had never ventured this far from the estate, and the unknown stretched before her like an endless chasm. But the thought of the villagers, frightened and vulnerable, pushed her forward.
The village came into view just before noon, a cluster of thatched-roof cottages nestled in a small valley. Smoke rose from chimneys, but the streets were eerily quiet. As the group entered, a few villagers peeked out from behind doors and windows, their expressions wary.
"Who's in charge here?" Amara called, dismounting from her horse. Her voice, though soft, carried an authority that made the onlookers pause.
An older man stepped forward, leaning heavily on a cane. His face was lined with age and worry. "I'm Aldric, the headman," he said, his gaze flicking between Amara and her guards. "And who might you be?"
"I am Lady Amara Vyren," she said, her tone steady despite the way her name still felt unfamiliar on her tongue. "I've come to see how we can assist you."
A murmur rippled through the small crowd that had begun to gather. Aldric's eyes narrowed slightly, but he inclined his head. "We weren't expecting anyone from the estate. Come, my lady. I'll show you."
Aldric led Amara through the village, his cane tapping against the dirt path. He explained how the attacks had started a fortnight ago: wolves, larger and fiercer than normal, had begun hunting near the village. Livestock had been taken, and one man had been injured trying to protect his sheep.
"They're not normal wolves," Aldric said, his voice grim. "Their eyes glow, and they're not afraid of fire or men. We think... we think they're cursed."
Amara listened carefully, her brow furrowed. The villagers had fortified their homes as best they could, but they lacked weapons and training. The fear was palpable, etched into every face she saw.
"We've been leaving offerings at the edge of the forest," Aldric continued, gesturing to a small pile of bread and trinkets near the tree line. "Hoping it'll appease them, but it hasn't helped."
Amara felt a pang of anger. These people had been left to fend for themselves, resorting to superstition because they had no other options. She placed a reassuring hand on Aldric's arm.
"I'll speak with Lord Vyren," she said. "You won't face this alone."
By the time Amara returned to the estate, the sun was sinking low on the horizon. Exhausted but satisfied, she handed her horse off to a stable hand and made her way toward the house. She barely made it through the doors before Kael appeared, his expression thunderous.
"Amara," he said, his voice like steel. "A word. Now."
She followed him into his study, her heart pounding. He closed the door behind them, the click of the latch unnervingly final.
"You went to the village," he said, his tone calm but dangerous. "Without informing me."
"They needed help," Amara replied, lifting her chin. "I couldn't just sit here and do nothing."
Kael's dark eyes bore into hers. "Do you have any idea how reckless that was? What if something had happened to you?"
"I was perfectly safe," she said, though her voice wavered slightly. "I took guards with me. And the villagers—"
"The villagers," Kael interrupted, his voice rising, "are my responsibility. Not yours."
Amara's hands clenched at her sides. "And yet you've done nothing for them. They're terrified, Kael. If you won't act, then I will."
His jaw tightened, his anger giving way to something deeper—frustration, perhaps, or worry. He turned away, running a hand through his hair.
"You don't understand," he said quietly. "This estate, these lands—they are constantly under threat. I have to weigh every decision carefully. I can't rush to the aid of one village at the expense of another."
"Then let me help," Amara said, stepping closer. "I may not understand everything yet, but I want to. Let me be part of this, Kael."
For a moment, he said nothing. Then he turned back to her, his expression unreadable. "Very well," he said at last. "I'll send a force to the village. But this is the last time you go behind my back. Do you understand?"
Amara nodded, relief flooding through her. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," he muttered, returning to his desk. "This is far from over."
---
That night, as Amara lay in bed, she replayed the confrontation in her mind. She had stood her ground, and Kael had listened—at least partially. It was a small victory, but it felt significant.
In his study, Kael stared at the map on his desk, his mind turning over the day's events. Amara was proving to be far more determined—and far more difficult—than he had anticipated. But as much as her defiance frustrated him, he couldn't ignore the faint stirrings of admiration.
The wolves, the village, and the growing tensions in the region were all problems he would have to face. And for better or worse, it seemed Amara was determined to face them with him.