Chapter 47
Chapter
Forty-Seven
ALLIE
W hile Ryker and the warriors scouted the area, Nadya, Geryll, and I tried to get the fire to behave and swell.
The night sky still hadn’t decided if it wanted to be purple or orange, but Ryker decided to stop for the night. These strange wolves still had enough energy to probably circle the crater twice, but they’d gotten spooked and he didn’t want to take any chances.
The news of the trolls wandering so close to the human paths had worried the warriors as well. I didn’t know how Vylkor’s constant frown could possibly deepen, but it had.
“I can’t believe you saw a troll gathering.” Geryll whistled as he took out two flint stones from his satchel. “That’s the stuff of fairytales.”
“Dark fairytales.” I pushed the final stone into place, my back screaming at me to stop. The evening chill didn’t help. “The trolls look more dangerous than I thought.”
“They are more dangerous.” Nadya dropped another pile of dried branches next to the makeshift stone pit we’d quickly put together near a huge slanted rock. “They drink human blood any chance they get.”
“Those are just rumors,” Geryll said. “No troll has attacked a human in generations. They keep to their side, we keep to ours.”
“They don’t anymore, do they?”
“We don’t know that. They could just have their gatherings there and we didn’t discover them until now, because we avoid each other.”
A good theory.
A pretty lie in disguise, meant to soothe the mind even as reality screamed the truth.
I didn’t know much about this realm, but if Ryker was concerned, so was I.
Nobody other than the two of us knew about the fallen star or that the Northern Clans were ready to nip at our heels for access to more power.
The wells were drying up, the trolls were moving, and danger clung in the air.
Something was boiling underneath Solkar’s Reach.
We needed to be ready for the moment it exploded.
“I don’t understand why this isn’t working.” Geryll scraped the flint stones together like he wanted to smash them into oblivion.
“You need gentle pressure,” Nadya said.
“I’m being gentle,” he said, smashing the rocks harder.
“Give them to me, I can–”
“No, I can do it–”
“You need to bend over more, like the Commander showed us–”
“I am low–”
“Bickering while trolls might still be nearby isn’t exactly wise,” I said.
“We’re not bickering,” Geryll said.
“No, we’re arguing over who’s right.” Nadya reached for the stones. “And we’ll be cold all night if you won’t accept help.”
“I can do it!”
I groaned low in my throat. These discussions felt achingly familiar; my cousins and I would bicker long and loud enough that even Grandpa Constantine had raised his voice at us a few times.
That was one lesson I didn’t plan on repeating. Everyone was tired after the long trip, we were hungry, and cold. The last thing anyone needed was an argument.
As Nadya produced more meager sparks, I called on my powers. The more I used them, the quicker they answered. I pushed my hand between the twigs, pretending to rearrange them.
“ Take the spark, keep it low and make it grow ,” I whispered.
A thin blue tendril shot out just as Nadya flicked the stones again, igniting the kindling. Both of them shut up as the fire began to spread.
“There we go.” I got up with another groan, arching my spine back, trying to ease the tension. The sled ride had taken at least ten years off my life.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Nadya asked for the thousandth time since I rejoined the group. And each time, she sounded more guilty.
“As sure as the first time you asked.” I righted myself even as my muscles protested. I didn’t need anyone worrying over me. “The fall was nothing compared to the sled ride. I’d rather ride on the back of a horse for a full week.”
“I’m still sorry,” she grumbled, like she was fighting with someone. Probably herself, because it definitely wasn’t with me.
“It wasn’t your fault. And I am fine .” Aching, worried, and tired was fine, because I was still alive. “You two have to keep the fire going. The warriors will be back soon.”
They both snapped into action, placing more wood and fanning the small flames.
As I stepped away, I heard Nadya mutter, “She started it with her magic, didn’t she?”
The crater’s rim was maybe three hours away, now more massive than ever. A shadow in the sunset which seemed to suck in all the light. No birds flew near it and no waterfalls dared cascade down its sleek walls.
It loomed over everyone and everything, a menacing giant which should not have existed. The trolls must have had the courage of a thousand men to not only approach the ridge, but live in it.
Yet, I too had passed through the barrier. Delved deep within its belly and lived through the horror of the voices.
Tomorrow, I’d have to do it again.
The wolves had been let free to roam, most of them accompanying the warriors to secure the area. A few lay in the snow, munching on the bones Mrs. Thornbrew had packed them. Luckily, they stayed far away from the sleds gathered in a line in a protected nook near the rock.
A shiver raced up my spine as I neared ours, the troll roars blaring in my memory.
It had passed.
I was alive.
I pulled out the palaver book, sat down on the furs, and opened it for what felt like the millionth time today. Small wonder it hadn’t followed me down into the troll pit.
The pages remained stubbornly blank, no matter how hard I looked at them and pleaded with the gods to give me a sign.
Dax was alright.
He had to be.
I couldn’t live in a world where one of my cousins didn’t.
He must have delayed going into the castle. Dax did that sometimes–had a new mission that took precedence. He could afford to pick and choose what he did and when, and it was part of his charm.
Then again, infiltrating Aquila was just as important to me as it was for him.
So where was he?
A sudden shift in the air teased my senses.
“He’s alright,” Ryker’s voice echoed behind me only a moment later. “Veghearas are too stubborn to not be.”
I turned to him with a shaky smile. “I hope he’s just being Dax.”
Even as I said it, my mind rebelled.
Dax wouldn’t play like this.
But I had to believe or I’d go mad.
“Hungry?” he asked and took out a bundle of deer jerky.
I nodded, even as my stomach roiled. It was almost night. I owed him…something.
An apology, perhaps. An explanation, definitely.
“How’s the perimeter?” I asked as Ryker took one long step over the sled and sat down beside me, close enough that his warmth permeated through my thick coat, but not touching.
“Quiet.”
“Too quiet?”
He nodded grimly, nodding at the warriors gathering around the fire. “They want to do a ritual to ward off the evil spirits. We should join them.”
“We?” Ritual ?
“My people expect their leaders to participate in their ceremonies, especially protective ones.” He turned to look at me with that bottomless gaze of his. Or maybe it just seemed that way to me, because I wanted to drown in it. “You don’t have to join if you don’t want to.”
Ryker ripped off a piece of jerky and handed it to me. I took great pleasure in ripping it with my teeth; it eased some of the hectic energy inside.
It bought me a few breaths to wrestle my thoughts into submission.
Grandpa Constantine had instilled in all of his Vegheara heirs the need to protect the people’s religious beliefs. We had churches and cathedrals that rang out every week and a Vegheara always had to be present.
Usually me.
It was always me, wasn’t it?
“I want to.” I swallowed deeply. “But will they accept me? I’m not their leader.”
“Yet,” he said with absolute certainty. “We’re getting married.”
No matter how many times he said it, my stomach fluttered at the idea.
“And you’ll sit on the same throne as me,” he went on. “What’s mine is yours–the glory and the religious responsibilities."
Ryker really hadn’t been kidding when he’d offered me everything in his realm, had he? A part of me still doubted. Still feared.
It was hard letting go.
I took another large bite of the meat–perfectly spiced and peppered to burn a little and warm me up–and took my sweet time chewing it.
Those same threads of panic tried to nip at my mind, clawing and pulling me back into the darkness.
I shook my head. No.
I’d made a promise–and I would not break mine like so many others had done to me.
I took one deep, centering breath. “About last night–”
He took another bite, no longer looking at me. “No.”
My heart dropped.
Had he lost patience with me?
Did he no longer care what I had to say?
Had I hurt him that much?
No, it was impossible.
He didn’t seem upset. He’d come after me today and was concerned and offered me jerky–
“Not right now,” he said as he finished swallowing. “I can feel that mind of yours worrying.”
“Can’t help it,” I said, feeling exposed and embarrassed that he could so easily read a part of me I disliked.
“I know. Just as I know you’re tired, your back’s killing you, and you’re concerned over that cousin of yours. Whatever you want to say can wait until we’re both rested and can talk at length. I have a feeling this conversation will take a long time.”
“But I promised you,” I protested meekly.
“And you wanted to fulfill that promise. You didn’t hide, didn’t wait for me to start asking questions. I can tell you’re still scared, but you were willing to ignore that and talk. It’s enough for me until we get back and can talk properly, and I trust you’ll stay true to your words then.”
“That–” Was so generous and thoughtful and so very him that I was struck with the need to drape myself over him and not move an inch until our heartbeats aligned.
I settled for leaning my head on his shoulder.
Such a simple gesture, but one that spoke of an intimacy not even a thousand sweaty nights could compete with–true trust. “–sounds amazing.”
“Thought you’d like it,” he said, then did something that actually made my heart swell. He leaned his own head against mine.
As if we’d done this before all of our lives.
Like it was the most natural thing in the world to just touch each other so casually.
I hadn’t felt this before.
This wasn’t fiery passion–but not exactly the soothing lull of being surrounded by family.
It was quiet and easy, but still felt like it needed to be sustained.
No matter how hard I tried to categorize and name it, it simply was. My body recognized it, sagging against him with a sigh, even as my thoughts still tried to find logic in something that was instinct. Maybe more.
The hisses in my mind turned softer, fainting into the background. They didn’t vanish completely, but for now, I could enjoy this moment.
The two of us sitting out on a rare starry night, munching, and just listening to each other’s breaths.
For once, the silence felt comforting.
By the fire, the warriors began to light blood-red candles.
“Damn, I didn’t bring any,” I said.
Ryker chuckled and reached back underneath the furs, pulling out two candles, tied together with a white ribbon and a twig of pine instead of a bow. “Mrs. Thornbrew is always prepared.”
I was struck once again by the unfamiliar thrill of being cared for in the smallest little details that brought so much comfort.
I was usually the one to remind my father to take his ceremonial dagger or Dara to not forget the spell book. Again.
It seemed I didn’t have to think about absolutely everything in Solkar’s Reach–because people remembered just because.
“One other thing.” He righted his head and cleared his throat.
“At one point in the ritual, I’ll give you a signal and you’ll have to step back for a few moments.
I need to cast my powers out so everything in the circle can sense it.
It helps them feel grounded–and I can take away the aches and pains of the road, all in one go. ”
“Won’t that tire you out even more?”
He shrugged his unoccupied shoulder. “I’ll sleep after.”
I tilted my face up toward him. His neck was so close–completely exposed, another show of trust; especially important in the Clan world, where some had been known to rip out their enemies’ throats.
The Butcher, that awful Serpent general, had been jailed for life because of the brutality with which he did it.
But trust went both ways.
“I don’t need to step out of the circle,” I whispered.
Ryker closed his eyes as my breath glided up his skin. “You said you didn’t want my power in you.”
After last night, that particular detail had taken on a whole new meaning. One that made my cheeks warm up.
“Without my approval. I’m approving now,” I said.
A tremor coursed through him. No matter how fast he tensed his muscles to keep it hidden, I’d felt it–and I loved it.
He still hadn’t opened his eyes, as if fearing this all might not be real if he did.
“Are you sure?” he asked, voice now gravel.
“Yes.” I rubbed my cheek against his shoulder. He’d been open with me, I’d pay him with the same coin. “My back is really killing me.”
Laughter vibrated in his chest, travelling through me and heating me up. He rose and offered me his hand.
I took it without hesitation.
As I settled next to him, the metal slash of weapons filled the air. The warrior took out daggers that glimmered in the fire’s dance.
“What are they doing?” I asked, sliding closer to Ryker. It seemed I always did that when I was scared or unsure. My body naturally gravitated toward him before my mind could stop it.
“Getting ready for the ritual,” he said. “In the Blood Brotherhood, even protection is written in blood.”