Beloved Runt Book 2
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M. J. Watts
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Chapter 1
ARTEMIS
âAgain!â Lord Edmonâs 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 didnât let that stop me.
Dalton hesitated, his eyes questioning whether he should obey the command. Weâd been training for hours, but Lord Edmon was relentless.
I couldnât really blame him. Weâd been practicing this particular sequence for over a week, and despite Daltonâs pulled punches, I hadnât 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 didnât immediately spring into action, Lord Edmonâs voice rang out again.
âIn a real fight, thereâs no time for hesitation. Now, again!â
Dalton shot a glare at the lord. Heâd never been fond of him, and I couldnât blame him. He turned back to me, his eyes meeting mine before he spoke.
âDonât stress, Artie. Youâve got this. Donât overthink the moves. Your body should remember the sequence by now. Just trust it.â
I nodded at Dalton, signaling that Iâd 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 wasnât 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 Daltonâs incoming fist.
SMACK!
The impact sent me sprawling onto the hard ground, and I didnât get up.
Hearing my groan, Dalton immediately dropped his fighting stance and rushed to my side.
âShit! Iâm so sorry, Artie. I shouldâve stopped in time.â He knelt down to help me up.
âItâs okay,â I reassured him. âItâs my fault. I messed up my footing.â As I was getting up, I heard a grunt from across the courtyard.
âWeâll try again tomorrow. Dalton, make sure she gets back to her duties after she cleans up.â Lord Edmon then stood and left the courtyard without even glancing my way.
That hurt more than the punch. It was like he didnât care.
Dalton, ever observant, picked up on my mood. âHey.â He tried to soothe me. âIgnore that old man. Youâre doing great.â
âI feel anything but great right now,â I replied, cradling my cheek.
***
Back in the laundry quarters, I was folding tea towels. It was the job Iâd been assigned to since arriving nearly a month ago, and honestly, I didnât 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 Iâd left the Ever Green Pack, my wolf had been restless. I could always sense her deep within me, but since sheâd been awakened, sheâd become more active. Iâd snapped at Dalton more than once for no reason, and Iâd been short with some of the other maids. She didnât 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 âincidents,â heâd lecture me.
âYou need to control your wolf, not let her control you.â
I never knew how to respond. I was trying! It wasnât 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.
âHey, Artie?â Mrs. Harris, the laundry matron, called out to me.
âYes, maâam?â 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.
âOnce youâre done with those towels, could you take them to the kitchens? Theyâre running low again.â
âOf course, maâam.â I returned to folding the towels with renewed vigor. It seemed like everyone in the palace drank nothing but tea.
Once Iâd finished, I headed to the kitchens with a basket full of clean towels.
If I hadnât been assigned to the laundry, I wouldâve 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.
âGoddess! Iâm such a klutz!â the maid cried. âI canât even carry a tea tray without causing a disaster.â
âCome on, itâs not the end of the world,â I tried to reassure her.
âBut you donât get it! If I donât get that tea delivered, theyâll fire me.â
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.
âMary, what in the world have you done?â Her voice was icy and devoid of sympathy.
âIâm sorry,â the young maid stammered. âI donât know what happened. One minute, I was carrying the tray; the next, I tripped and it was all over me.â
The older woman rolled her eyes, seemingly more upset about the lost tray than the maidâs distress.
âSo, whatâs the plan now? That tray needs to be delivered immediately.â She glanced at me, who was still helping the young maid.
âYou there,â she barked. âCan you handle carrying a simple tea tray?â
I looked around, hoping someone else would step in.
âAre you hard of hearing?â she snapped.
âNo, maâam,â I responded quickly. My inner wolf bristled at her rudeness, but I kept it in check.
âGood. Mary, help this girl prepare another tray and get it delivered right away.â
My heart pounded in my chest. As the old woman started to walk away, I hurried after her.
âExcuse me, maâam,â I said. âI work in the laundry department. Iâm just here to drop off the towels.â She narrowed her eyes at me, clearly annoyed.
âI donât care if youâre from some podunk town where they use teacups for hats,â she said, her voice low but firm. âIâm short a maid and Iâm out of patience. Just take the tray and serve it. Weâll figure out where you belong later.â
She turned back to the maid. âMary, make sure itâs done right before she leaves. If itâs not, itâs on you.â With that, she stormed off, not even bothering to look back, leaving me standing there in shock.
Okay. I can handle this, I thought. Just deliver the tray, then you can go back to safety.
I turned back to Mary. Her mouth was hanging open, realizing that I was going to have to fill in for her.
Oh boyâŠ
