The White Wolf's Wrath, page 1
The White Wolf’s Wrath
DRAGON FIRE AND DRUIDS
BOOK ONE
SHEA HULSE
HOT TREE PUBLISHING
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Publisher
Blurb
Step into a world where betrayal cuts deeper than a knife, and vengeance burns hotter than wildfire.
My life took a sharp turn when the White Wolf unleashed his fury upon my family's once-glorious estate, shattering everything I held dear.
But from the rubble, I emerged with a fierce determination. Disguised as a humble servant in the Wolf's inner circle, I tread carefully, balancing on the edge of survival and discovery.
In my quest for payback, I unearth truths that rock my world. The man I swore to hate reveals surprising depths, stirring emotions I never thought possible. Caught between seeking revenge and a budding attraction, I'm trapped in a whirlwind of conflicting feelings.
With the help of the mysterious Amergin, I navigate the dangerous territory of enemies and secrets. War looms on the horizon, and betrayal lurks in every shadow. I must summon all my courage to follow my heart's uncertain path in this turbulent journey of love and revenge.
The White Wolf’s Wrath is the first book in the scorching-hot Dragon Fire and Druids romantasy series.
The White Wolf’s Wrath © 2024 by Shea Hulse
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any written, electronic, recorded, or photocopied format without the express permission from the author or publisher as allowed under the terms and conditions with which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.
The White Wolf’s Wrath is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and places found therein are either from the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons alive or dead, actual events, locations, or organizations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
For information, contact the publisher, Hot Tree Publishing.
www.hottreepublishing.com
Editing: Hot Tree Editing
Cover Designer: BookSmith Design
E-book ISBN: 978-1-923252-02-8
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-923252-03-5
For my family, both the given and the chosen.
Prologue
One would imagine the worst day of my life would be remarkable in some way. But the day I became an orphan was like any other. I remember it was mild, a good day for breaking midwinter blues, and the women were tidying up, dusting here, organizing there. Though really, we had all been living under the strain of what was coming and occupying ourselves with trivial matters instead to keep our minds off it. As we had been for a while now, making the days bleed into nights under the weight of the unknown.
The stress began the night it was announced that I was betrothed to Oisin, a worthy match for a woman of my station. We had a significant manse near Carrick-on-Shannon in county Leitrim; my father, the lord of our clan, made his wealth dealing in precious gems. On that night, a feast was held, the revelry was palpable, and gossip flowed as swiftly as the wine.
That was the first I’d heard of the war, though then it was perhaps only a few skirmishes. Men from the north of us, wild and unruly, causing mayhem farther south. Women gasped, and men plotted, shoring up their defenses, making allegiances where they might prove necessary.
The news wasn’t unheard of or even noteworthy at first. We were battle-hardened people. My father wasn’t lord by lineage, though that was often the way—as it was the way I would claim the right to rule upon his death. A death that happened far sooner than anyone could have foreseen. Though, how many could say the same? It wasn’t as if anyone could tell us what tomorrow would bring.
No, my father won this land with his fists and his wits. Venturing north as a young man, he whetted his blade on the unruly clans that had occupied our land before us, making a name for himself. Perhaps that was why they came south now, seeking retribution. Particularly on the eve of the kingdom my father sought to establish with my marriage to Oisin.
But I sat silent as a lodestone grew in my belly, causing a feeling of unease like I had never known.
The girls in my group teased that it was only marriage jitters, but I was no stranger to men, and certainly not to Oisin, whom I’d played and laughed with since childhood. No, I was content to marry him. He was a fine gentleman, and his family was well established in their own clan, his father a lord there as well. Our combined wealth once we wed would be far superior to any clan near us, ensuring our hold on the land that would also double in size.
No, the feeling that plagued me was otherworldly, an emotion without a name. It was like the hairs that rose on the back of your neck or the feeling of being watched, something primitive and feral.
So while they danced, I sat primly, the lady of the house—or queen, as I would be after our parents’ reign once the challengers were successfully thwarted. That thought brought with it some alarm. And in that chair, I watched keenly for the disturbance, for what made my heart sit in my throat and my belly twist in knots. But I saw nothing for once, no flicker of a flame gone awry, no furtive glances from the guests, not even a dog acting strangely to show me why I felt so heavy.
The women kept their chattering going, and I nodded and smiled as I ought to, and few, if any, of them saw my unease. I couldn’t hide from Evelyn, though. The housekeeper caught my eye more than once, a question and an answer. She felt it too.
But for the good of the clan, we would remain neutral for now—until I got any sign of true danger, at least. A glance toward my parents confirmed their suspicions as well, but the stern look said to hold strong. Nothing was amiss until something happened.
Only, what was to happen?
I had questioned my parents later, both tight-lipped and eyes crinkled with concern. While my mother tried to soothe my fears, wringing her hands and smoothing my hair back, my father lectured me on my training and keeping watch over my mother.
Though not a frail woman, my mother was not as hearty as me or my father. What she lacked in stature, she made up with a strength of character that lent her an air of intimidation. Though neither of us measured up to my father. His barrel chest and furrowed brow commanded attention everywhere he went. Behind his measured gaze, I knew he was fair and kind, so long as you respected him and others.
I’d only seen a few men beheaded by his hand, but none I could say that were done without due cause. And fewer still crossed him the more times he was forced to swing the death blow—save me. I had a knack for turning his complexion ruddy in frustration, but I was the exception to the rule, and we all knew it.
That was three nights ago, and the weight bore down more heavily as we swept the dirt and shined the windows. The wedding was to happen in four days’ time. Winter weddings were less common, but Oisin’s family made their legacy on their livestock, and spring brought calving season.
While we worked, I thought about the talk I’d heard about the Raiders. My family never held to traditional roles, refusing to make someone do for them what they wouldn’t also do themselves, something I had admired, as had our clansmen. The work was simple and monotonous, but it made me appreciate our lot in life, which I think was a second reason behind working alongside the men, women, and children we were in charge of. It brought it home, making their problems ours as well.
The frequency of the reports and the devastation had only increased, and talk of war was more prevalent. I had tried to speak to my parents about my intuition, but they asked me to think only of the wedding, that it was more important. I could hardly see how that was possible, but even Evelyn had been tight-lipped about it.
The girls rarely contributed much to my anxieties. There were only four of us—myself and three other highborn girls from the clan—but often, despite the friendships, I felt alone. Cara and Fallon were sisters, both effervescent and prone to giggling, and Erin was more astute and proper than I would ever want to be. If anyone ought to be queen, it would be her with her primness.
While the sisters would scoff and talk of how Oisin might look naked and of how lucky I was to marry such a good-looking and wealthy man, Erin would chide me for childish sensitivities. Then she would proceed to politely excuse herself from the other girls’ indecent discussions.
While I cleaned, I swept up a massive black feather, somehow unnoticed before. I froze in place, the raven’s caw echoing ominously in the distance as if on purpose. Too coincidental to be accidental.
The clamor began next, before the horn sounded—once to open the gates, twice to close them, thrice to prepare for battle. Like a swarm of bees, the sound was palpable as much as audible. A sudden tension filled the air, followed by murmurs, before the first blast broke the peaceful sunny day. At first no one moved, all frozen in whatever state they had been in. Women hunched over washbasins, m
The third and final echoing blast that followed was hardly unexpected for me—it was the answer I had been anticipating—whereas for others, it unleashed a flurry of activity. Most women ran to hide, their washing left behind. Some hurried to their children and families, while I went toward the clash of metal, the broom forgotten.
Running to the armory, I emerged wielding a sword from my father’s collection, brushing past women and children in their flight. The dagger at my side was inadequate for true bloodshed, and I was too short to want to get close to any enemies with the small knife when they would likely have a broadsword. Before long, I reached the back lines of the men protecting our gates just as the front lines had broken.
It was too fast. I’d hardly had time to grab a weapon before men were running in the opposite direction. How were we broken so swiftly? So easily?
That was when I saw the banners. A wolf’s head on a black background, howling at the moon. The White Wolf, a man of myth and mystery. Suddenly, our swift defeat made more sense.
Men scattered, some to reform and others for the hills. I’d held my ground, losing it little by little until my back was to the rear yard.
Giants stood before me, ten feet tall at least, swinging weapons as large as tree trunks like they were feather dusters. Men fell in swaths beneath their clubs and swords and axes, proving why we had failed so miserably.
That was when I saw them. In the melee after the lines had broken, behind the massive ogres, the dragons soared low and viciously, riding the wind like hawks—only a handful of them. They were beautiful, savage things, an array of colors blending perfectly with the scenery.
Heat scorched and fires erupted as the winged devils attacked ruthlessly. Though I couldn’t focus on them long if I wanted to keep my head, I thought I saw men on their backs before steel flashed in my vision, bringing my attention back to my surroundings.
I didn’t know how many men I cut down, or whether I truly had or not. More had ignored me than engaged with me, and the few who did were lost in the mess that was my home.
I’d failed to best the last man who swung my way; my only memory was pain and falling before the world disappeared. When I came to, it was through one eye that I looked around at my surroundings, the other swollen shut. Chestnut hair caught my attention, followed by a familiar dress, and my heart leaped into my throat.
Blinded for another reason entirely, I screamed when I saw her face. The sweetest one I had ever seen, pale and frozen in death. A gash ran across her chest, red smeared the front of the dress she loved so much, and more seeped into the ground beneath her body. My mother looked peaceful even now, despite the horror of her demise.
I was not so peaceful.
It must have been a while since I’d been knocked out, the twilight bleeding into the brilliant blue sky like the men who bled into the earth now. Lights blazed through the windows of my manse. Men’s shadows could be seen through the curtains, reveling in their victory.
Blind rage sent me careening toward my house, wobbly with a vicious blow to the head. I grabbed my sword and stormed through the kitchen door, hell-bent on revenge.
Only to be stopped by the cook.
There wasn't a kinder soul than Evelyn, so much so that with a gentle nature and fresh biscuits, she had won the hearts of the vagabonds. Likely the latter had won them over, proving her value.
Her biscuits could win wars.
But her exclamation of “Sarah!” stopped me in my tracks as she pulled me by the hand to the sink.
She didn't speak as she stashed the sword under the wooden worktable in the center of the massive kitchen. There were sacks of all kinds sitting off the floor on wooden slats under the table. She silently slid it out of sight beneath them, blood and all.
Cornering me by the basin, she held me there as she wrung a cloth in the water before facing me again. Wiping with gentle efficiency, she cleaned the blood off me, tears shining in her brown eyes.
Adrenaline still pumped through my veins like a hurricane, and my breathing was as shallow as a puddle, but one shake of her head had me taking a deep breath. Not here, not now, it seemed to say.
When she looked at me pointedly, stopping her cleansing, I knew she was telling me to bide my time. I shook my head, clenching my teeth.
“Oisin lives,” she dared whisper so quietly, I squinted my eyes as if that would make me hear better.
Words failed me, but the shock on my face must have registered, as she continued.
“Paddy was here. He tells me he’s hurt but alive.”
Paddy was the stable master and farmhand who had fought alongside me. I didn’t imagine anyone could have survived, and relief swept through me at the few who remained. Followed by devastation at those who had not.
“How?”
“Michael. He is with him now. And I need you to be with me now, do you understand?”
I nodded, adrenaline ebbing away into a cold resolve. Evelyn needed me, and I would not fail her. Just as Michael, Paddy’s son, would care for Oisin. He was employed by the king's family and must have come to check on his father in the aftermath.
“Where?”
But she shook her head. With an invading army, Oisin was a wanted man now and too valuable to our clan to risk saying too much. Though it killed me not to know where or how he was, I let hope keep me from doing anything hasty.
I was worth more alive than dead right now too. I could bide my time until then. Besides, who else would protect Evelyn? Paddy was close but not close enough; this way, I could watch her and await my soon-to-be husband's recovery.
Oisin was alive.
The knowledge was dangerous. If anyone knew the would-be king and queen remained, we would be routed out and beheaded instantly. We were a threat to the invaders, who had indeed come to claim our wealth for themselves. But we wouldn’t be so easily dispatched, it seemed.
My betrothed was valiant, what a prince ought to be. Tall and lean, his dark hair and eyes pleasantly offset his porcelain skin. The Beirne clan was well established for generations, but clans far more stable and respected had fallen to the banners emblazoned with the White Wolf's head snarling in defiance.
Oisin, my friend since childhood, when we would chase each other through the fields with the other children of nobility. There were only a few in our clan, but enough of them that rank mattered. I hadn't grown to know him more intimately until our betrothal.
We were to be married in a few days. My family being the most prominent noble house with a daughter of marriageable age made us a perfect match.
Throughout our teen years, I would see him at functions to chat about whatever drivel was acceptable in polite society. I hadn't been interested in marriage then, though we might have married much sooner if I had been. My father had always listened to my opinions.
“Listen, child,” Evelyn said, a disheartening way to start. “The men are in the house now. Heaven knows why they’re here, but I need you to be quiet and bide your time. Do you understand me, Sarah?”
I nodded, words beyond my ability at the moment.
“You’ll cook and clean with me, and we’ll make do until we know more, okay, sweetheart?”
I moved my head again, a strangled sound escaping my lips.
“My m-m…,” I began, trying to convey the devastating scene that I had found on the lawn only minutes before.
“I saw. I’d thought you had joined her, but the gods smiled on you today. Let’s keep it that way.”
“Father?” I choked out.
“I don’t know, but we’ll find out one way or the other.”
Evelyn had called me Sarah Burke after a famous dramatic actress, a popular moniker from my childhood when I was a wild toddler prone to pouting if I didn't get my way. It worked, since I was already used to answering it.
