My Second Chance Mate is a Barbarian (Sera and Fenris) novel Chapter 204

Kane

The iron head of the club clipped the top of the white ball with a sharp, dry thwack that echoed off the limestone cliffs bordering the eastern edge of the field. I didn't watch it fly. I didn't need to. The vibration that traveled up the shaft and into my wrists told me everything I needed to know about the shot. It was shallow. It was weak. It was going to end up in the mud.

I stood there, the weight of the club dragging at my right shoulder, and watched the grey mist roll across the grass. The air carried a heavy scent of wet mulch and the sharp, metallic tang of the river. It was a cold, oppressive morning, the kind that settled into your bones and stayed there.

"Twenty yards short. Again," Jace remarked.

He was standing ten feet to my left, leaning on his own club.

I didn't turn my head. I focused on the red flag fluttering in the distance. "The wind shifted."

"The wind didn't do shit, Kane," Jace countered. I heard his boots scuffing the damp grass as he walked toward me. "You’re gripping the handle so hard the leather is going to fuse to your palms. You’re trying to murder the ball again."

I loosened my fingers, processing the dull ache in my joints.

"I have things on my mind," I stated.

"The Mistwood treaty," Jace said. It wasn't a question.

I finally turned to scan him. His red hair was perfectly styled, not a single strand out of place despite the breeze. He looked like a man who hadn't spent his night staring at trade ledgers and listening to a pregnant woman complain about the temperature of her tea.

"Vance left an hour ago," I said. "His scent is still clinging to the guest wing."

"He smells like a man who owns your mineral rights," Jace corrected, shoving a cigar into the corner of his mouth. He didn't light it. He merely chewed on the end, his eyes tracking a hawk circling above the tree line. "The merchants are back in the Great Hall. I passed them on the way out. They’re happy. Trade routes are open. The 'black beasts' have miraculously vanished from the school paths."

"Because Mistwood called them off," I snapped, the anger boiling up in my throat. I swung the club again, this time hitting nothing but the dirt, sending a clod of wet earth flying. "We’re paying for protection from wolves they control. It’s a protection racket, Jace. And we’re the marks."

“Go raise your voice at your Luna, not me.”

"I need to fix it," I said.

"I’m going North," Jace announced.

The statement caught me off guard. I paused, my hands tightening on the club again. I watched him, searching for the punchline. "The North? Why?"

"I want to pay a visit to a friend," Jace said. He sounded casual, entirely too casual for a man talking about crossing the border into a graveyard of ice and barbarians.

"Why?" I asked.

Jace’s expression shifted. The playful light in his eyes died, replaced by a sharp, irritated glare. He stepped into my space, the scent of his cologne becoming suffocating. "What do you mean, 'why'? Do you have any plans to fix the problem on the ground, Kane? Because from where I’m standing, you have no idea how to fix the problem on ground."

"We have a treaty," I argued.

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