A Storm of Shadows (Fates and Fables #3)

43. Onora

Chapter 43

Onora

O nora woke to a servant bringing her a massive amount of food for breakfast. She ate all of it, then looked around, unsure what to do. She and Dryston had talked late into the night—about everything and nothing, it felt like—but she didn’t know what she was supposed to do with her days. Who she was supposed to be now.

Getting out of bed, she was determined to explore the city and find some occupation. As she stepped out the door, though, she saw a box of freshly made clothes waiting for her, with a note on top. She opened it to see a spidery scrawl, barely legible, and she squinted to make it out.

Your training leathers are here. I’ll be in the training ring all morning if you want to come and check it out.

-Drys

She immediately grabbed the leathers, changed into them, and made her way to the barracks.

Onora hadn’t been this nervous since she’d tested to be a Hunter. She doubted this was an actual screening for her to be in the royal guard, and she doubted Dryston had been serious about her joining, but still, she wanted to impress them. Him, mostly. She wanted to show them what she could do.

When she arrived at the barracks, sparring sessions were already in full swing. She snuck to the side, taking it in. Off to the far side was a section where demons were practicing magic techniques on wooden dummies. Another area for weapons practice, the clank of metal punctuating the air. And closest to her was hand-to-hand sparring. Dryston was wrestling with another male that looked vaguely familiar.

Shirtless.

Sweaty.

His muscles rippled with each strong movement as he wrapped his arm around the other male, flipping him, then pinning him down.

A new fantasy danced behind her eyes, of Dryston pinning her down like that, his sweaty body on perfect display, his hands strong and sure.

His head whipped up as if she’d said that out loud, shouting it for everyone in the arena to hear, his eyes finding her as if he were a compass and she was true north. A grin split his face right before his sparring partner got a hold and flipped him again. Now Dryston was pinned and, well ... damn. That also did things to her.

She shook her head, trying to focus as they finished out their fight, Dryston finally making the other male tap out. He stood, helping the other up and they patted each other on the shoulders, then, immediately, Dryston sprinted to her.

His eyes roved over the leathers, taking his time. They were demon-style leathers, black, with ornate pauldrons and a scrolling stitch down the front.

“The demon fashion suits you,” he said.

She shrugged. “I think Melina is just a very good seamstress.”

“That she is,” he said. “Want to spar?”

She stood in dumb silence. Yes, she did. But sparring him? Right now? When he looked like that?

Nodding her head, she tried to get her brain in the right headspace for this.

But he turned, whistling to get someone’s attention, and when a female demon looked at him, he beckoned her over. She was tall, but only a little above Onora’s height, with a lithe, athletic body, icy blond hair, and piercing blue eyes.

“Lily, this is Onora,” Dryston said.

“I know who she is,” Lily said, her tone as cold as the shade of her hair.

Dryston frowned only a moment before saying, “Would you mind sparring with her? She seems eager to get back into it.”

Lily’s gaze didn’t leave Onora’s as she said, with a smirk, “Oh, I’d love to.”

They met in the middle, Lily handing her weapons off to another demon, and Onora offered her hand. Lily only stared at it.

“Sorry, this is a human tradition. A sign of respect for the person allowing you to train with them,” Onora said.

Lily smiled. “Oh. That’s cute.”

She didn’t take the hand, and Onora dropped it, narrowing her gaze. Lily was trying to get in her head. For what, she didn’t know, but she wasn’t going to let it keep her from fighting her best.

A whistle marked the beginning of their match and Lily immediately lunged for her legs, but Onora jumped back, bringing the top of her foot up swiftly, connecting under Lily’s chin. Lily let out a growl, throwing her hand out and sending a swirl of shadows to Onora, who, without thinking, sent out her own that swallowed Lily’s. Lily stared at them, agape, and Onora lunged at her, toppling to the ground. They wrestled evenly, a tangle of arms and legs and elbows. Lily would get the upper hand for only a moment before Onora slipped out and took over, back and forth, back and forth. Then Lily got her in a lock, arm around her neck, and whispered, “You might be fucking Drys, but don’t think you’re special because of it. You’re not the only one warming his bed, and you never will be. You haven’t fooled anyone else. You’re his little pet—for now. He’ll get tired of you and send you on your way soon enough. So don’t get comfortable.”

Onora wriggled free, sending an elbow back and slamming into her nose with a crack, Lily letting out a string of expletives as her grip loosened.

They broke apart, Onora rolling away, and both stared at each other, panting hard. She didn’t have time to think about what Lily said. Instead, she jumped her again, focused, intent, her mind razor sharp as she wrapped her legs around the female, toppling her down and getting her in a chokehold. Lily thrashed and hit, trying to get free, but she couldn’t.

“Tap out,” Onora growled in her ear.

Lily refused, her face growing redder, gasping for air.

Finally, Dryston whistled again, calling the fight, and Onora dropped Lily, standing swiftly away from her. Lily grabbed her neck and shot a glare at Onora. Onora offered her a hand to get up, but Lily only slapped it away, stumbling to her feet and then stalking off.

“She’s a sore loser,” Dryston said with a grimace.

Onora wondered if Lily was only a sore loser in fighting—or if she was sleeping with Dryston too, and that’s what she’d been referring to. Her stomach dipped, a pain radiating in her chest at the thought, but she shoved it away. What did it matter?

“Well, well, well,” the male who’d been fighting Dryston said, giving Onora an appraising look. “The Hunter has some chops on her. Lily is rarely bested in hand-to-hand fighting. She’s a scrappy one.”

“I’ve had the same sentiment said about me,” Onora replied.

The male chuckled. “I’m Mandel, by the way.”

She offered her hand to him and he took it, kissing the back of it and she flushed, swallowing hard. Dryston gave Mandel a sharp look but said nothing as the muscles in his jaw twitched.

“Let me show the rest of the barracks,” Dryston said, stepping in between the two of them. “Mandel, you need to practice more. You’re getting rusty.”

Mandel frowned. “Oh?”

Dryston crossed his arms. “You telegraph your right hook too much. I can see it a mile away and your footwork is getting sloppy. Keep it up and you’ll be a liability to the squad.”

Mandel’s nostrils flared. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good, see you around.”

Mandel narrowed his eyes, and Onora gave Dryston a raised brow as they walked off.

“That was a bit harsh,” she said.

“That’s how Mandel and I are. He prefers me to be straightforward with him.”

“He seemed to be doing a fine job,” she said. “Besides, you said nothing to Lily when a human bested her.”

Dryston opened his mouth, then closed it, chagrined. “I’ll apologize to him.”

She hated how her stomach clenched at the fact that he didn’t refute not telling Lily to work harder. Was Lily one of his paramours? She banished the thought, focusing on what Dryston was showing her, who he was introducing her to.

“General!” Dryston called to an elderly demon who stood at a desk, looking over letters. The male looked up, greeting them both warmly.

“Lord Dryston. And this must be Onora.” The general offered his hand to her. “I’m Lionel.”

“It’s a pleasure,” she said.

“Likewise. Dryston has told me you want to join the royal guard?”

She slid Dryston a glance and he rubbed the back of his head, shrugging. “It’s an option.”

“I am in the market for a new job,” she said, not quite wanting to admit that a part of her liked the idea of training here, getting stronger and showing what she could do.

“Keep coming here to train and we’ll find a place for you,” Lionel said.

The words buoyed her, giving her a small glimmer of hope that perhaps she could have a place here.

“What does a colony dinner entail?” Onora asked as she followed Dryston down a new pathway of cave halls that went by vast apartments with families sitting out front, or with lights in windows showing different domestic scenes. So vastly different than she’d ever imagined.

They came to a door that unlocked from Dryston’s touch and they walked in, down stone steps, past a receiving room to a large dining area. There were a few tables, seeming to separate demons by age, young kids at one lower to the ground with toys scattered around them. Another for youths that were chatting and horsing around. Then another larger one with adults buzzing around it, others coming in and out of a room she assumed was a kitchen with place settings and food.

She suddenly had the feeling that she was intruding on something very special. It felt like the holidays she remembered as a child, celebrating the solstice with the village. Or the ones she’d seen celebrated through people’s windows in Venatu on the nights she’d had patrol and wandered around, watching happy families, untouched by the horrors that marred her soul.

Dryston introduced everyone to her as they came up, each of them kind, taking her hand and chatting with her like she wasn’t their enemy. As if she weren’t a Hunter.

Which, she supposed, she wasn’t. She wasn’t anything anymore.

Dryston grabbed her gently by the elbow, navigating her to the kitchen. Kaemon stood in the corner with Emilia, playing with her while Enid and Avenay chatted with Maria in the corner. Kalen and Melina were cooking, moving around each other like it was second nature, handing each other utensils without having to speak. Kalen in an apron with a towel thrown over his shoulder was a jarring scene and when he turned, seeing her looking at him, he narrowed his eyes.

Melina halted, seeing Kalen staring at something and looked back, her face breaking into a smile. She wiped her hands then rushed forward for a hug and Onora stiffened, which made Melina stop short, wringing her hands. Onora didn’t know what overcame her, maybe a protective instinct for someone so sweet and kind, but she stepped forward and pulled Melina in a hug, who returned it fiercely.

“I’m so glad you came,” Melina said.

“I hear you’re making homeland food?”

Melina nodded, grabbing her hand and pulling her over to a pot of cooking stew. Flavors hit her in a wave, familiar and comforting. Nutmeg and cinnamon, cardamom and green pepper.

“My mother made a similar stew,” she said quietly, for only Melina to hear.

“Mine did, too,” Melina said.

A body was suddenly next to her, peering over the stock pot and Onora looked up to see Enid crowding in. Always taking up the most space, unapologetically and loudly. Onora smiled, raising a brow.

“I heard you bested Lily in sparring,” Enid said, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter. This was one of the few times she’d seen the female in clothing that wasn’t something entirely functional. They were loose fitting silk pants with a sweater that hugged her neck. She somehow still looked foreboding. “You’re sparring me next time.”

“Oh? Do you like losing then?”

Avenay, Kaemon, and Dryston all chuckled as Enid rolled her eyes, still grinning.

Melina ushered them all into the next room, taking seats as the food was brought in. An abundance of wine, bread, stuffed mushrooms, and berries.

“How often do you have these dinners?” she asked, looking around at the full table, the loud room, and feeling a pang of loss.

“At least monthly, sometimes more.”

“The colony is very important to demons?”

He nodded, taking the bread from the center of the table and breaking off a piece for her and him. “Very much so. We’re all related by blood or mate bonds, somewhere along the way, but we are all tied into each other’s magic. A colony together can cast spells in a way demons can’t on their own.”

“I didn’t think demons could cast spells at all.”

“Usually—we can’t. But together, with the guidance of a priestess we can. I don’t know why it’s that way. But it’s made us value the colony even more.”

“It’s nice,” she whispered, absentmindedly.

The door opened, a cool draft rushing in, as did the sound of hurried footsteps. Mandel entered, looking around before spotting Avenay and coming to her.

“A letter for you. It’s marked urgent,” he said.

She took it, exclaiming softly at the seal and then ripped it open, reading fast.

“What is it?” Enid asked, coming close to her.

“My father,” she said. “He says he has research findings he needs my eyes on as quickly as I can come. He doesn’t want to write it down though ...”

Enid and Avenay exchanged a look.

“I need to go to Lesern,” she said, and Enid nodded.

“We both will.”

“Right now.” Avenay gave her a pleading look, and Enid took her face in both of her hands kissing the top of her head.

“Right now.”

She came over to Dryston, kneeling down. “We’re leaving. Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone. I’ll keep you updated as much as I can on what her dad has found.”

“There’s a lot of strife in the world right now. Be careful.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“Rarely.”

Enid grinned, patting him on the shoulder, then standing and saying their goodbyes as they left. Dryston called Mandel over.

“Sit and eat. We’re down two and Melina makes enough food for an army.”

“Gods bless her. She’s the best cook in the city, too,” Mandel said, taking a seat and rubbing his hands excitedly.

The main dishes came, and they ate, different people talking, everyone catching up, some moving around the table and coming to talk to Dryston, saying they were so glad he’d made it back. They all talked to her as well, asking about her life, and she awkwardly stumbled through the fact that she was a Hunter, but none seemed to care.

Except Kalen. He sat catty-cornered to her, his eyes often on her, narrowed. He eventually moved closer, coming near to Dryston.

“Will you be participating in the moon rites this year?” he asked.

Dryston raised a brow. “Why do you ask?” Dryston shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Onora eyed him curiously.

Kalen shrugged, taking another drink of the wine. “Lily says you’re escorting her.”

“What are the rites?” she asked before thinking. She wanted to seem unaffected, cool, but she wanted to know what they were. Why Dryston seemed uncomfortable. Why was he escorting Lily?

Kalen smiled. “They’re a special demonic ritual. They are ... romantic in nature. It’s often how demons end up finding their mates.”

Onora told herself to be calm, to not react. So Dryston was escorting Lily to a rite to find his mate. She’d known something like this would come along. She just hadn’t anticipated it occurring so quickly after she arrived.

Dryston drew in a heavy, annoyed breath. “It’s an old tradition, and a bit outdated.”

Kalen frowned. “You go every year.”

Dryston waved his hand as if what they said was absurd.

“Every year,” Mandel echoed, stabbing a carrot and eating it, grinning as Dryston shot him a glare. “Is Onora participating?”

Dryston’s nostrils flared. “No.”

Another stab of pain in her chest. Something romantic, and Dryston decidedly didn’t want her there. It made sense. It made complete sense.

It still hurt like the darkest pit.

She scoffed, and he looked at her. “Oh? Do I not get to decide?”

“You’d hate it,” he said dismissively, and she bristled.

“You don’t know that,” she said.

He smirked, that stupid, infuriatingly handsome smirk. “Yes, I do. You’d be out of your element at the moon rite. It usually turns into an orgy, Onora.”

Her cheeks flamed. Oh. She hadn’t caught on to the subtle innuendo.

But regardless, what did he mean by that? Out of her element?

Suddenly, she remembered his look after she’d woken in his arms in the forest. Regret. Perhaps even disgust? He’d looked so worried, so regretful.

She shoved the memory away.

“I don’t know, Drys,” Mandel said, a devious smile on his face. “I think she’d love it.”

Dryston’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the knife in his hand, staring at Mandel. He really, really didn’t want her to go, did he?

“You should come with me,” Mandel said. “Unless you think I should skip the rites to practice more, since I’m getting rusty .” Mandel fixed Dryston with a challenging look over his wineglass as he took a drink.

“She’s not going,” Dryston said, his voice low, threatening.

“Aren’t you going?” she asked, turning her cold gaze on him.

“I hadn’t decided yet.” He stared at her with a pleading look, begging her to not go. A wise person wouldn’t. A wise woman would bow out and not participate in this.

Not that she hadn’t had her share of group sex in the past. The elves had less proclivity to modesty and chastity than humans, and she’d spent enough time with them that she knew she’d enjoy it greatly.

“You always go,” Kalen said. “And you can’t put off trying to find your mate.”

Onora stuffed another mushroom in her mouth to hide her disappointment. Mandel’s gaze was on her like a brand.

“We’re not talking about me right now, Kalen,” Dryston spat. “I don’t think Onora would like it. Obviously, she can answer for herself. Sorry I got involved.”

He took a long, hard gulp of wine and she crossed her arms, leaning back with a smirk.

“It wouldn’t be my first, or second, or third,” she said, giving him a hard look.

Kalen coughed on his drink and Mandel grinned, giving a low whistle.

“You underestimate her,” Mandel said.

“If I’m going to stay here, Drys, then maybe I should start participating in demon culture,” she drawled, trying to call his bluff, get any reaction out of him.

“She makes an excellent point,” Mandel said.

Dryston gave her a long, hard look before his expression melted away into that unreadable smile of his. “Well then, I guess I’ll see you there.”

“I guess you will.”