Beloved Runt Book 2

“Again!” Lord Edmon’s voice echoed across the courtyard.

I lifted my fists, bracing myself for the next onslaught. My body was sore and drenched in sweat, but I didn’t let that stop me.

Dalton hesitated, his eyes questioning whether he should obey the command. We’d been training for hours, but Lord Edmon was relentless.

I couldn’t really blame him. We’d been practicing this particular sequence for over a week, and despite Dalton’s pulled punches, I hadn’t quite nailed it yet. I glanced at Lord Edmon, who was perched on a stool across the courtyard, his face stern as he scrutinized my every move.

When Dalton and I didn’t immediately spring into action, Lord Edmon’s voice rang out again.

“In a real fight, there’s no time for hesitation. Now, again!”

Dalton shot a glare at the lord. He’d never been fond of him, and I couldn’t blame him. He turned back to me, his eyes meeting mine before he spoke.

“Don’t stress, Artie. You’ve got this. Don’t overthink the moves. Your body should remember the sequence by now. Just trust it.”

I nodded at Dalton, signaling that I’d heard him. He gave me a moment to regroup, then raised his fists, ready to strike.

In a flash, he lunged at me, his fist flying. I anticipated his move and blocked his wrist with a swift sideward thrust. I stepped on his foot to push him back and kicked with my other leg. I moved through the fighting sequence, landing every jab, strike, and kick. I was actually doing it. Maybe I wasn’t a complete failure after all.

But my excitement caused my focus to slip, and I misstepped, widening my stance too much. I tried to recover, but only ended up sliding further out of position, my face perfectly aligned with Dalton’s incoming fist.

The impact sent me sprawling onto the hard ground, and I didn’t get up.

Hearing my groan, Dalton immediately dropped his fighting stance and rushed to my side.

“Shit! I’m so sorry, Artie. I should’ve stopped in time.” He knelt down to help me up.

“It’s okay,” I reassured him. “It’s my fault. I messed up my footing.” As I was getting up, I heard a grunt from across the courtyard.

“We’ll try again tomorrow. Dalton, make sure she gets back to her duties after she cleans up.” Lord Edmon then stood and left the courtyard without even glancing my way.

That hurt more than the punch. It was like he didn’t care.

Dalton, ever observant, picked up on my mood. “Hey.” He tried to soothe me. “Ignore that old man. You’re doing great.”

“I feel anything but great right now,” I replied, cradling my cheek.

Back in the laundry quarters, I was folding tea towels. It was the job I’d been assigned to since arriving nearly a month ago, and honestly, I didn’t mind. There was something soothing about the repetitive task of folding fabric, and I could use a little more calm in my life.

Ever since I’d left the Ever Green Pack, my wolf had been restless. I could always sense her deep within me, but since she’d been awakened, she’d become more active. I’d snapped at Dalton more than once for no reason, and I’d been short with some of the other maids. She didn’t like being bossed around.

It was odd. It was like having another person in my head, someone who was my polar opposite. Dalton kept reassuring me that this was normal. Most werewolves experienced this during puberty, but since my wolf had been dormant for so long, I was playing catch up. Lord Edmon, however, had no sympathy. Whenever he heard about one of my “incidents,” he’d lecture me.

“You need to control your wolf, not let her control you.”

I never knew how to respond. I was trying! It wasn’t like I could master it overnight. And I was improving. The last time my wolf went on a run with Dalton, I could actually remember most of where we went. It was a bit hazy, but it was progress.

“Hey, Artie?” Mrs. Harris, the laundry matron, called out to me.

“Yes, ma’am?” She nodded approvingly. Mrs. Harris was strict but fair. She always wore her gray hair in a neat bun. The laundry facilities were always spotless under her watch.

“Once you’re done with those towels, could you take them to the kitchens? They’re running low again.”

“Of course, ma’am.” I returned to folding the towels with renewed vigor. It seemed like everyone in the palace drank nothing but tea.

Once I’d finished, I headed to the kitchens with a basket full of clean towels.

If I hadn’t been assigned to the laundry, I would’ve chosen to work in the kitchens. It was always warm, and the smells were heavenly.

I was always in awe of the cooks. The flavors they created were incredible. They even had someone who did nothing but sculpt chocolate.

I walked slowly along the edge of the kitchen, careful not to disturb anyone. My limp had improved significantly since finding my wolf, but it was still noticeable if I moved too quickly. I was putting the towels away when I heard a crash and a scream.

I turned to see a maid staring at her bright red hands; the shattered remains of a tea tray lay at her feet. Without thinking, I rushed over and pulled her towards the nearest sink, dousing her hands in cool water.

“Goddess! I’m such a klutz!” the maid cried. “I can’t even carry a tea tray without causing a disaster.”

“Come on, it’s not the end of the world,” I tried to reassure her.

“But you don’t get it! If I don’t get that tea delivered, they’ll fire me.”

Suddenly, a small, older woman with sharp features rounded the corner, heading straight for us. Her face was a mask of displeasure, clearly not thrilled with the scene unfolding before her. After taking a moment to assess the situation, she addressed the maid in a harsh tone.

“Mary, what in the world have you done?” Her voice was icy and devoid of sympathy.

“I’m sorry,” the young maid stammered. “I don’t know what happened. One minute, I was carrying the tray; the next, I tripped and it was all over me.”

The older woman rolled her eyes, seemingly more upset about the lost tray than the maid’s distress.

“So, what’s the plan now? That tray needs to be delivered immediately.” She glanced at me, who was still helping the young maid.

“You there,” she barked. “Can you handle carrying a simple tea tray?”

I looked around, hoping someone else would step in.

“Are you hard of hearing?” she snapped.

“No, ma’am,” I responded quickly. My inner wolf bristled at her rudeness, but I kept it in check.

“Good. Mary, help this girl prepare another tray and get it delivered right away.”

My heart pounded in my chest. As the old woman started to walk away, I hurried after her.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” I said. “I work in the laundry department. I’m just here to drop off the towels.” She narrowed her eyes at me, clearly annoyed.

“I don’t care if you’re from some podunk town where they use teacups for hats,” she said, her voice low but firm. “I’m short a maid and I’m out of patience. Just take the tray and serve it. We’ll figure out where you belong later.”

She turned back to the maid. “Mary, make sure it’s done right before she leaves. If it’s not, it’s on you.” With that, she stormed off, not even bothering to look back, leaving me standing there in shock.

I turned back to Mary. Her mouth was hanging open, realizing that I was going to have to fill in for her.