Chapter 7: The Lady’s Slipper

Chapter 7

“The herb you seek does not grow in Althara,” the wrinkly woman said to Mæra who sighed in frustration. She had gone to all the local shops and everywhere that she could possibly find the herbs she needed for her monthly but they were not available.

Everywhere she went, she was told the same thing.

“Is there anything else I… I mean, I can give my friend to use?” Mæra asked. The old woman squinted and rummaged through her wares. She pulled out a small vial and placed it in Mæra’s hand, “this should help your friend.”

Mæra nodded but gazed on the vial with deep distrust. The herb she took was called The Lady's slipper and it was considered rarer than gold but was very easy to find in Vælmont where she had served before coming here.

“It is called The Black Cohosh,” the old woman said, observing the untrusting face of the man before her. “It works well.”

Mæra nodded and paid for the vial. She did not want to argue with the old woman or draw any suspicions to herself. She would just have to suck it up for the next couple of days and hope that she did not fall sick this month.

She meandered through the narrow market, passing several more rows of shops. It was amazing to see that a war torn part of the pack still had so much business. In spite of the many raids common to these parts, the people managed to thrive on resiliently.

She stopped when she reached a privy. She looked about her, hoping no one had followed her from the pack tents. When she was certain she was alone, she walked in, unwrapped a bundle of clothes and began to change into them. She could not afford anyone recognising her from the market as she journeyed back to the tents.

****

Officer Cæl had what most people called the sword of gods. When he was in battle, he slashed enemies left and right without the slightest remorse. He cleared paths by making his enemies fall in battle.

But today, something was clearly off.

Theron sensed it in the way Cæl shifted uncomfortably on his horse. He kept reaching underneath his armour to mop the sweat on his forehead with his bare hands. He was squinting more than usual as though his vision was blurred.

Theron cleared his throat beside Cæl, “is everything alright with you?”

The question had come from a place of genuine concern but Cæl looked at him with fiery eyes and demanded, “are you fucking scared that I'm not good enough to protect you?”

If Cæl had the sword of gods, his mouth was forged by the gods as his tone and words cut deeper than any sword could ever cut into.

Theron was going to say something equally rude when an arrow came hissing past and Cæl stopped it midway with his sword before it could get to Theron. Cæl turned to him briefly and sneered, “I can still do my fucking job.”

His battle advisor kneed his horse and galloped forward with a deep battle cry, plunging headlong into enemy territory.

It was on days like this that Mæra hated being officer Cæl. She was uncomfortable—extremely so as the makeshift pad she had to use was lunged in between her legs and stuck into her privates in the most unfit way. She could feel her stomach rumble softly as blood flowed in painful wrinkles from her body. She was nauseated and that made her extremely prickly.

But Mæra had a job to do and she was going to fucking get it done. She slashed right and left as she plunged into enemy lines. She fought the dizziness as she avoided arrows and hacked men in half. She could hear Theron behind her, struggling to catch up with the momentum she had built but she did not look back. She kept fighting until she felt herself lose grip of her horse.

Mæra shut her eyes for a couple minutes. She realised now that if she did not get out of here, she was going to faint and would die of a stampede and not by a sword which was every warrior's dream death.

“Turn around,” her wolf said, sensing her exhaustion.

The world was beginning to turn a dull gray and she knew all too well what would happen next. Mæra did not wait a second longer. She tightened the left rein and pressed with her right leg, making her horse bend sharply with its hooves skidding in the blood mixed sand below.

“Cæl! Cæl…” she could hear Theron scream her name but she only kneed her horse by the side so that he could move faster.

However misfortune struck and her eyes swam with cold sweat. She fainted, falling off her horse into the very thing that she feared.

****

Yule had seen it happen as though in slow motion. Officer Cæl had turned his horse around and then fallen off seconds after. He wasted no time in securing the horse and placing his commander on it, before galloping away from the battlefield.

He rode hard and fast, not stopping even when Theron kept shouting for him to do so. He rode into the heart of the city until he reached a small house he had reserved on the day he had followed Cæl to Vaelmont.

He settled the horse into the stables of the small house and carried Cael into the house. He laid her on the small bed and stripped her off her armour. He had prepared the herbs she took every other month around this time.

Yule knew.

He had always known.

When Officer Cæl had returned from a very long sick leave, he had known that it was his sister that had taken his place. He had known immediately that it was Mæra, whom Cæl spoke about a lot. But Yule had played along, serving Mæra with the same respect that he had served her brother. He had grieved quietly at the beginning at the loss of his previous master but he had embraced Mæra too. And he had vowed to himself just like he had to Cæl long before his death that he would protect Mæra’s secret.

Propping her head up with a pillow, he gave her a vial made from The Lady’s Slipper, which grew only in Vaelmont. When she had ingested it, he put her in a more comfortable position so she could sleep well.

He stayed by her side until her eyes fluttered open several hours later.

****

Mæra’s eyes fluttered open slowly, trying to get adjusted to the warm light that filtered into the room. She frowned as she shifted in what felt like a bed.

A bed?

She sat up at once, panicked that her secret was out.

“Officer Cæl?”

She turned, wide eyed with surprise, only to see Yule by her side with his usual naive looking expression on his face.

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What the hell is this place? Who brought me here?” she demanded with venom in her tone, ready to strike out if anyone knew she was a woman.

“I brought you here,” his tone sounded just as naive as his face looked, “you fainted in battle,” he said by way of explaining, “I brought you here so you could recuperate. No one followed us here. I made sure of it.”

The initial panic dissipated.

Mæra’s eyes softened a bit but her suspicion did not, especially when she could feel the after taste of the herbs she used in Vaelmont on her tongue.

“How did you know what to give me?” she asked, feeling her pocket for her small dagger. If his response as much as betrayed knowledge of her womanhood, she was going to slit his throat.

Yule saw that her hand was resting on her right thigh where she hid her dagger. He tried not to look bothered and replied, “I assumed you needed herbs from Vaelmont. The change in food and pace here possibly caused you to fall ill.”

Mæra relaxed a little.

“I must return to the camp,” she said, standing up from the small bed, “I don't want a search party after me.”

Yule excused himself as Mæra began putting on her armour. He saddled the horse he had left in the stables and waited until Mæra came outside.

She hopped on the horse, waiting for Yule to jump on too but he cleared his throat and said, “I will walk.”

She nodded, kneed her horse at the side and galloped for several miles until she got to the front of her personal tent which she seldom used. She spotted Theron standing in front of her tent, poised as though waiting for her. She rolled her eyes as she got off her horse, handing the horse to one of the lower ranking soldiers patrolling the area.

“Did your strength suddenly vanish? After all your pride, you ran from battle. What a coward! You can’t even do your duty — which is to protect me.”

Rage that threatened to explode rushed into her chest. Clearly, he had seen her call from her horse and faint and yet he had the audacity to yell at her for being a coward? He was certainly an insensitive jerk.

“If a king always needs protection from his subjects when it’s supposed to be the other way around, then maybe he shouldn’t be king,” Mæra fired back at him.

Theron found the air around him charged with sexual chemistry as his battle advisor mouthed off.

It was impossible not to stare at those lips.

Against his better judgement, he found himself closing the space between them slowly.

Maera lifted a brow at him, confused for a second too long. “Alph—“

Theron’s lips crashed into her hard bedore she could complete the statement.

He could smell mint on Cæl’s breath and on those soft luscious lips, a hint of bitterness in them.

He pushed Cæl against the tent, trying not to be too forceful so the tent would not crash on them. His hands went to his chest instinctively, but then…

A thunder-sounding slap reverberated on his cheek, sending Theron rolling on the floor.