Running Red - Viola Grace
Chapter One
The queen swept through the halls of the palace with her entourage. Her wolf warriors were silent and watchful as they moved behind her in a protective wave.
She walked up to the practice yard where her son and his red guard were taking turns punching each other.
“My dear boy. I need a moment of your full attention.”
Prince Hazwell flipped the man he was grappling with and then walked to his mother, going down on one knee. “Yes, Mother?”
“I have chosen a bride for you. She will be here in ten days. Try and be presentable.” Queen Laridel smiled and looked at his now-tense form.
“Mother, who is this woman?” He remained kneeling.
“She is a solid alliance candidate. When you wed her, we will have a link that will secure our safety.”
He looked up. “Have we been challenged?”
“No, child. Of course not, and we won’t be as long as you wed this young lady.”
He grumbled. “I don’t wish to wed a woman sight unseen.”
The queen made a humming noise, and the guard went on the alert. “Well, will you give in if you can’t beat one of my guards? She will act as my champion.”
He looked at the guards and nodded. “Fine. I will fight one of your guards, and if I win, you put the wedding plans on hold.”
“Agreed. Solari, please take my son to school.”
Groaning silently, she stepped forward and removed the pelt that she had earned years earlier. She bowed slightly. “Your Highness.”
He grinned and gestured for her to join him in the center of the space. The other men stepped aside and formed a ring. “So formal? You used to call me Haz.”
“I also used to be three feet tall.” She felt the wolf under her skin rising. “Shall we?”
He didn’t reply, but he tried to grab her and lift her. It was his only chance of getting an advantage.
In the fifteen years since they had met, he had grown considerably and was now close to double her weight with a neck thicker than her thigh and arm put together. She was going to put up a good fight, but this wasn’t one she could win.
She took two steps back and then dove between his legs, coming up behind him and wrapping him in a headlock. She muttered, “Why are you so fucking slow today?”
She pulled back, but he swung, and since she wasn’t on her feet, she slowly shifted around until she was hanging in front of him, precisely where she didn’t want to be. He put his hands on her waist, and she pulled up her knees, pressing her feet against his chest and kicking out and back. He fell back, and she flipped him over, pulling his arms up and pinning them high.
The queen applauded. “Well done, Little Wolf. It wasn’t ideal, but it seems my son loses his fight around you.”
Solari let him go and backed up several steps, bowing. “My queen, the prince is off his game today. It is not a fair fight.”
Hazwell was doing a push-up in the sand, and he glanced at her in surprise. “That is kind of you to say, but a win is a win.”
Solari straightened. “No. Not always.”
He bowed to his mother. “I will meet with the bride.”
The queen beamed. “Excellent. Ladies, we have a wedding to plan.”
Solari bowed to the prince again, took her fur from Harpin, and closed the clasp as she resumed her place behind and to the right of the queen. It was the spot she had been in for the last four years. Since the king had passed.
“Solari, why did you say that Hazwell was off?” The queen was reading a treatise at her desk.
“He has far outstripped my skill, my queen. He should have snapped me in half after the first lunge.” She remained at the queen’s right side and shrugged.
“You should have more faith in your abilities.”
“I do. I also know what I can’t do, my queen. If I defeated your son today, it is because he wanted me to.”
“So, you think he wants this marriage?” She twirled her pen in her fingers.
Solari said calmly, “It is not up to me to know what the prince wants. If you wish for an answer, you will have to ask him.”
“You two used to be such good friends.”
“Yes, my queen, that was before I entered your household.”
The queen chuckled. “Ah, yes. The protocol. You are very precise about it, aren’t you?”
“My mother was specific that I not rise above my place.