I shake my head, finding my way out to the barn.

Ran lazes on a rug in front of Sir Hans’ pretty roan stud.

The bugger laps up the apple I give and a low whicker of contentment rumbles from his chest while crunching his treat. I rub just below his forelock, and he sniffs my pockets, finding the second slice.

“Nuh-uh. I’ll give it to you before I leave,” I admonish.

I laugh when he pulls back, giving me a stink-eye for daring to keep the second slice from him.

Ran opens a single eye, then goes back to ignoring me.

I sit in the cradle of her stomach, leaning back against her warm fur.

She huffs, getting up to stretch and knocking me away. She yawns, showing her saber teeth and then curling so her back is to me.

“Don’t be like that. You know I can’t ride you tonight,” I say, craving her acceptance in something she knows I can’t help. And I could really use her warmth and it hurts that she hasn’t said one word about today. I... I respect her opinion. I respect her. And I want her approval and, yes, even her praise.

She breathes out a loud breath, shifting her head to look at me. You know you did good today. Is there any reason for me to say so?

I bow my head. I’ve really hurt her feelings. But how was I supposed to do anything different?

An even bigger sigh, and she finally sits up so she can face me. I cross my legs and lean forward to pet behind her ear.

Rider, why ride at all? It is not far. You could walk.

I cock my head. “You would rather I walk than ride?”

Her ears lay flat against her skill. Maybe. I would rather be with you. The last ends in a whisper, barely touching my mind.

I sigh. Yes, that’s a selfish wish that almost annoys me... but I can feel her pain. It’s deep. She wants to be with me, always... and when she can’t be, it tears at her.

I’m her pack. Wolves typically have many within their pack, up to dozens. Being with me has caused her both joy and pain.

Do you ever regret saving me that night? I ask softly, leaning my head on her shoulder as she curls up around me. I can hear the soft beat of her heart under my ear and my heart calms to match it.

She licks my ear. No, rider. That is the one thing I will never regret.

I blink back tears, feeling her pushing assurance and sincerity over the Bond. Why?

She lays her head at my feet, curling her tail so it touches her nose and I’m completely cocooned in her embrace. Because you are my sister.

I smile. It seems to her it’s as simple as that. She doesn’t think of all she’s lost along the way... only what she’s gained.

I look up at the moon shimmering through the boards high above and silently thank The King for sending her to me. And for all I’ve been given.

I’m going to take a page out of Ran’s book and work on looking at all I’ve gained instead of all I’ve lost.

----------------------------------------

“Lad, you know better than to expect to win two trials in a row and not meet the king.”

“Yeah, I expected to be left alone,” I mumble, trying to ignore my sweating palms and how my head feels as if it's not attached to my shoulders. “This is a terrible idea.”

To my annoyance, Sir Robin merely laughs, slapping me on the back hard enough to leave a mark. I rub my shoulder, sending him a stink-eye, but he seems not to notice. “Ahh, but look, them ladies would love nothing more than to bestow a token for our champion. There are perks of winning, lad,” he says, swaying gently with his monster of a horse, sending me a wink.

I blush, but not for the reasons he suspects. I duck my head, muttering about pesky nobles and dukes who wouldn’t let well enough alone.

“Why must I?” I whine, trying to keep my voice deep.

“Because ya have caused a stir, are the prince’s favorite, and aren’t afraid of nothing. The king wants to see who you are.”

Great. That doesn’t make me concerned at all. And afraid of nothing? HAH!

The palace looms above us, a gleaming white topper on the hill in all its gilded and glistening white beauty. But the more I spend time within its halls, the more the coldness of the stone seeps through the awe.

It’s large and beautiful, but contains little warmth. The people look down on a mere commoner. The guards are stuck between wonder and scorn for being unable to compete since they are not knights, and I’m stuck somewhere in the middle of people I know absolutely nothing about.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The castle is large enough that I cannot see the ocean extending for miles behind it, where most of our trade comes from fish and other sea harvests. But with something called a leviathan on the loose, we are now set for a dwindling of the country’s coffers and starving people if something doesn’t change... and soon. Even deer and creatures which should be flourishing in the wood seem strangely lacking this year, even in the height of summer. Which makes me wonder if there are more out there like the Bamshee we killed not too long ago.

A shiver starts at the back of my neck and goes straight to my toes, chilling me from the inside out. I hope I never see a Bamshee again.

We clip-clop to the gilded doors three times my height and ringed by guards in livery that would cost as much as a normal man makes in a year. A stable hand in the same golden and green silk takes my current mount while another takes Sir Robin’s mount.

The white cobblestone pathway is flanked by guards and servants, the latter of which bustle around with finishing touches to prepare for the ball that I hear in full swing within. We arrived a little late, something I like. I won’t have as much time to deal with the pesky nobles trying to smell my derriere. Not literally, but sticking their noses where they don’t belong is a common fault of the nobility, I’m learning.

Derriere? You’re becoming as uppity as these nobles you abhor. I said give them a chance, not become one.

I struggle to contain a sarcastic laugh. Some nobles are kind... but they are few and far between.

Inside the castle is just as opulent as the outside, if not more. We walk in on a balcony that rings the ballroom beneath us and enter a line of fancy-dressed peacocks waiting to be cried.

Were it not for Sir Robin sitting a casual hand on my shoulder, I would’ve bolted. I didn’t know we’d actually be introduced. This is turning into a nightmare. Where are Bamshee when you need them?

I peek up at Sir Robin, who has a mighty cheerful grin on his face, but when he looks down at me, his eyes grow heated with a warning that makes me gulp.

Grand. No escaping. I knew I shouldn’t have come.

I take in my surroundings to take my mind from the dwindling space between me and the royal steward in gold and black livery who shouts down to announce the many nobles and royals who have an aura of grace about them that I cannot match worth a flip.

The balcony up here stretches all the way around. There are massive trees that grow from the first floor and have a hole cut from the balcony so they may reach all the way to the ceiling high above even the balcony, ending in a spherical skylight that sends some of the last sun’s rays into the ballroom floor. Two staircases branch out from this balcony like wings some ten feet in front of me, descending to the dance floor ringed by budding flowers and bookshelves along the walls.

Milling about the ballroom are hundreds of flowery dressed folk who chat amiably and flick fans and look like a rainbow threw up on the shimmering white marble floor.

On the far side, five thrones sit on a raised dais. They are beautiful, made of the same white marble as the floors. The back on the center two thrones rise higher than the others and hold the Royal Crest: a dove holding an olive branch ringed in red and gold feathers. Behind the thrones is a massive tapestry. From what I can see here, there are dragons, unicorns, fairies, edlertrees, and other creatures of legend frolicking with humans under the sun. Flowers and trees bloom with radiance, yet the tapestry is made with a skilled hand to not seem obnoxiously colorful despite the many colors... unlike the dance floor beneath me.

“Sir Robin and Sir Rinaldo, Tournament Competitors worthy of all honour,” the steward shouts. To my horror, many people from below glance up at just that moment.

I’m caught between hundreds of glares, thoughtful eyes, and downright joyful smiles that hold something of a predatory glint that scares the living daylights out of me. I freeze like a rabbit beneath Ran’s paw.

“Move, boy,” Sir Robin says, pushing me forward while still merely looking like he has a supportive hand on my shoulder instead of keeping me from running for the hills.

I stumble forward, feeling ill. I hope I don’t embarrass myself by giving my lunch to the marbled flooring.

“Smile.”

I try to, but it’s more of a grimace.

He takes one glance at me and his own smile dims. “Don’t smile.”

I drop my attempted smile and try not to look constipated.

This is worse than standing before hundreds of arrows in that underground cavern fighting for my life. At least those arrows would merely kill me. These people have the chance to make my life a living nightmare.

As soon as my feet touch the ground, a giant picks me up in a massive hug that pops my back. A booming laugh comes from the man and shakes me to my core.

“Little warrior! Sir Xonier happy to see you in this place.” He sits me down, looking me up and down. “You looking a bit weary. Need doctor?”

I give a weak smile, trying to ignore the stares that has the back of my neck prickling. I pull at the collar of my tunic, feeling claustrophobic despite the large berth around the three of us. It’s almost like the nobles think they can catch commonerhood. “I’m fine, Sir Xonier. It’s good to see you.”

He nods, not quite convinced, but he’s nice enough to let it drop.

“Sir Rinaldo?” someone says, and I look up to see a man. He has deep emerald eyes and a slightly crooked nose. He stands before me with hands behind his back and eyes welcoming and respectful. It takes me a moment… but then I place him! He’s the same one who pitted me against Sir Robin that first time to give me entrance to the tournament. He might have thought I was a stupid boy for trying to gain entrance, but he still treated me with respect even then. The insignia of two crossed swords on his lapel likely means something important, but I can’t place it.

He actually gave me a chance when everyone else wouldn’t, and that means a lot to me. A smile pulls at my lips. “Sergeant Glasson, it is good to see you,” I say.

He grips my forearm, a smile lighting his face when he realizes I remember his name. “You as well, Sir Ri. It seems you have shown the world a little courage goes a long way, eh?”

I grin. “So it seems.”

“The king would like to see you,” he says, sobering. “He asked me to retrieve you.”

The smile drains from my face and I feel a bit peaky once more.

Sir Xonier pats my head like a dog. “King no bite,” he says, not without some sympathy in his voice.

I give a slight, wry smile. “Thanks, Xonier.”

Sergeant Glasson leads me to the king without another word. Nobles and servants part before us as if we carried the plague. Titters and whispers and stares are left in our wake.

“He is the one our prince desires?”

“He seems a bit... wanting.”

“Do not insult the lad so. He should be given his due, no matter if his stature leaves something to be desired.”

I try to keep my cheeks from heating.

Then we are at the king’s feet. Well... we’re at the stairs at the king’s feet.

Sergeant Glasson bows to the king, nods to me with a look that says be strong, and leaves.