Taming the Queen of Beasts

ELRETH

Leaving Aaryn was heartbreaking, but he'd eventually pushed her out the door with a kiss and a promise to come to the cave after dinner. She'd found herself reluctant to walk away even after he'd closed the door, but she was reminded of the days her father had had to leave the cave sick, injured, or distraught because duty called.

Sometimes being a leader meant doing things you didn't want to do because they needed to be done. So, she squared her shoulders and started walking. But then Lhern's words came back to her. Maybe she'd give her new Captain a little test to see just how ready he was?

It hit her then that she'd gotten distracted and forgotten to tell Aaryn that the elder knew they were mates. She hesitated and turned back towards his tree, but he would have gone back to his mother by now. She'd tell him that night when he visited.

Pushing the sadness of his mother affliction away, she focused on the job she had to do. Which was a nice one. It was time to formally appoint Tarkyn as her Captain of the Guard, and Battle Advisor.

On a whim, Elreth shifted to beast form and ran through the trees to meet the trail that ended at the back of the training ground. If she was going to test her guards, a surprise entrance was just the thing.

*****

She should have known that the man whose entire life centered on being watchful for enemies would take an unexpected lion on his training ground all in stride.

When she leapt out of the trees as the guards passed in a march, Tarkyn—who stood in the shade at the side of the field—only laughed and yelled for the soldiers to take sparring stance. "The first male to touch her without landing a blow, I'll give you a week off night shifts!"

Elreth had just returned to herself when suddenly twelve men turned, poised for the game she'd played with her father and Aaryn countless times.

It was essentially tag—except the goal was to touch your opponent without doing harm—an action that took far greater skill and faster reflexes than simple practice sparring.

Elreth dodged and spun to keep away from the soldiers, and Tarkyn continued to chuckle as he watched her evade all twelve for several minutes, until eventually he started towards them on the field and called his men off.

"You're projecting your attacks, all of you. Step aside and watch how it's done,"

Elreth had paused, then raised an eyebrow as Tarkyn approached, grinning.

Almost twenty years her senior—though he looked closer to Elreth's age than her father's—he was tall even for an equine, with sandy brown hair and dark eyes. He was shirtless, his already bronze skin deepened to brown by the constant sun. He had a tattoo on both upper arms, and his hair tied back with a leather thong. Thick, leather cuffs adorned both wrists—useful for protection in hand-to-hand combat, and against the slap of a bowstring. And he wore a brace with a thick leather strap that slung over one shoulder and crossed his body, used to store weapons when he was teaching.

Younger than Elreth was now, he'd started as one of her mother's guards before Elreth was born, hand-picked by her father. And, like her father, he had been the target of young anima female lust for as long as Elreth could remember.

To her he was simply Tarkyn, the man her family trusted above all others—with the exception of Uncle Behryn—to keep them safe. But her friends had always turned into mindless, chattering crows whenever he was around, and as he strode across the training field, she could finally appreciate why.

Tall and broad, he was leaner than her father, or even Aaryn, but his body was carved, as if from marble or stone. He spent hours every day in training, and his physique was impressive, even among the Anima.

Once, when Elreth complained about her friends turning stupid when he was around, her mother had laughed and told her not to be too hard on them. She'd admitted that, had she met Tarkyn rather than Elreth's father, he might have turned her head.

"He's what a human would call my type," her mother had grinned, her eyes flashing. "I love an athletic body. And he's a sweetheart with it—but don't piss him off. I've seen him take men your father's size off at the knees."

When Elreth rolled her eyes, her mother just laughed. "Your friends are just reacting to their hormones. Forget about it. Let them have their fun."

Now, as Elreth watched Tarkyn approach with her newly opened eyes, she suddenly understood what her mother had meant.

The man was… what was her mother's term? Eye-candy?

But although Tarkyn was smiling, Elreth recognized the intensity in his gaze. He'd trained with them a few times before—he was one of the few who could truly challenge her father—though he did it with precision and speed, and only when he successfully stayed out of her father's grip.

Now he had his eyes on Elreth. "When you have an opponent in your sights, but you haven't engaged, for the Creator's sake, don't look where you intend to strike—you'll only warn them what to prepare for," he said to the young men as he reached them. Elreth turned to face him but stayed on the balls of her feet as the soldiers spread out to make a circle around them. Tarkyn let himself sag a little so his knees were bent and his center of gravity low. He kept his eyes always on Elreth's. "Are you ready, My Queen?" he asked slyly, tugging at the thighs of his leathers so they wouldn't restrict his movements.

Damn. His front kick was the fastest Elreth had ever seen. She wasn't sure she could defend if it he tried to use it.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she said through her teeth. She was unlikely to win this, but damned if she wasn't going to try.

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