Chapter 17
GWEN
Exhaustion weighs me down, and I tuck myself more deeply into Merak’s arms as he continues to fly toward the Winter Court army. I don’t know why I am so fatigued when he is the one doing all the flying. And he’s not just flying, but he’s holding me and his heavy rucksack.
I sneak a peek at his face and allow my mind to brush against his. To my surprise, he’s not tired at all. Quite the opposite. He’s exhilarated. He truly enjoys flying, especially across great distances. He finds it freeing.
Given my former habit of sitting on the stone walls of Braemar and staring at the road, I suppose I can understand that. The need to escape the trappings of life, even just for a little while. Maybe that is why Merak and I belong together. We are similar in that regard.
I consider the rucksack strapped across his chest, hanging at his waist, and disbelief sweeps through me all over again when I remember how he packed it.
Using his winter magic, that blue light he can so effortlessly summon into his palm, he somehow spelled the bag to hold far more than it should.
My clothing and shoes, the books he purchased for me, and countless other items had all vanished inside with ease.
Though the rucksack appears no larger than before, it somehow contains everything he wished to carry.
I suppose the trinkets and other gifts he secretly purchased from the market are still inside too, and a smile dances across my lips. He’s not aware of my snooping.
Despite my fatigue, I shift in his arms and peek out at the landscape. We’re traveling beside a mountain range sparkling with ussha-blessed vegetation beneath a dusting of snow clinging to the treetops. It’s beautiful, and I can scarcely believe this is my life now.
I always dreamed of leaving Braemar and traveling the realm, and now it would seem that dream is finally coming true.
Though not quite in the way I once imagined.
As a child, I used to picture myself joining a caravan of traveling merchants or perhaps setting off with a dear friend at my side (assuming I one day managed to make a friend), wandering from village to village with no destination in mind. I imagined freedom and adventure.
I never imagined I would leave Braemar as a tribute-cursed slave stolen by deserters, only to be purchased off the auction platform by a devastatingly handsome fae lord who turned out to be my mate.
Heat spreads through my cheeks.
Gods. Life can truly be strange.
Still, I suppose I will be traveling now. Not only for a little while, but perhaps for years... centuries... maybe even thousands of years.
Merak is resigning from the army. I know he won’t change his mind. I feel the truth of it whenever my thoughts brush against his, which means we will not be living in the war camp.
Where we might eventually land, so to speak, remains a mystery. Merak has remained rather tight-lipped about it, and because I sense his turmoil whenever thoughts of resigning surface, I haven’t wanted to press him for answers.
Perhaps we will travel for a while. Wander from place to place. Perhaps we will search for somewhere new to call home. Or perhaps he already has somewhere in mind and simply hasn't told me yet.
My gaze drifts toward his face.
The truth is, I still know so little about him.
I don’t even know the name of the province in the Winter Court that he once called home.
I don’t know whether ussha has already spread away from his home province, leaving it empty and dying like so many other places in the fae lands.
I don’t know what his life looked like before he joined the Winter Court army, nor how long he’s been King Theron’s most-trusted aerial scout.
Suddenly, I realize I want to know everything.
Not because he is my fated mate, but because he is Merak. He is the highborn fae male whose soul somehow resonates with mine. He is the savage fae lord I once found terrifying, but now I could not fathom living without him.
I think of how I discovered him sleeping near the hearth yesterday, the bird nestled in the crook of his arm, and my heart flutters.
We didn’t release the bird until this morning shortly before our own departure, and it was a bittersweet experience, watching the brave little bird fly off to resume its life.
Also, before our departure, Merak summoned three new messenger birds. I finally sent a missive to my family, a rather vague letter assuring them of my wellbeing, with the promise that I would see them soon. And Merak sent letters to Commander Ashvale and King Theron.
As the sky grows darker, Merak flies closer to the mountains, and I sense he’s searching for something. A cave. He’s looking for a cave, one he’s visited before.
I scan the area, but I don’t see a break in the trees, nor a rock face large enough to conceal an entrance.
Then Merak suddenly dips lower.
I gasp and clutch him tighter as he descends through the snow-dusted treetops into a small clearing. Only at the last moment do I glimpse it… a strange rocky formation half-hidden behind thick vegetation. The opening is concealed by snow-covered vines and branches.
Merak lands with effortless grace.
For a moment, he simply stands there holding me, his wings still spread behind him, as snow drifts softly around us. My breath catches in my throat when our eyes meet. The warmth he sends me through the bond makes my heart ache in a way I’m coming to understand could mean only one thing.
I love him, just as he loves me.
We haven’t said the words to one another yet, but the truth is there, laid bare in the intensity of his gaze and the affection that floods the bond we share.
He lowers me carefully to my feet.
“Are you all right, my dearest?” he asks, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. Then he tugs my hood back into place. I hadn’t even noticed it had slipped back.
I nod. “Yes.”
He studies me for another moment, as though making certain I truly mean it, then leans down and presses a soft kiss to my forehead.
Warmth flutters through my chest.
White light suddenly flashes around him. Before I manage to blink, his wings vanish.
No matter how long I live, no matter how long we are together, I don’t believe I will ever get used to how powerful and fierce he looks when his wings are out, nor his ability to summon or vanish them at will with just a quick flash of light.
He takes my hand and threads his fingers through mine. “This way.”
Curiosity sparks within me as he guides me toward the hidden opening. He pushes snow-dusted vines and branches out of the way and leads me through the narrow entrance. Darkness greets us inside, and I hesitate.
Merak releases my hand only briefly and crouches near the wall, fumbling for something. A few moments later, I hear the scrape of stone against stone. Then sparks flare before the cave floods with firelight.
He straightens, holding a torch high. When he reaches out to me, I eagerly place my hand in his. Despite the brightness of the torch, I’m still a bit uneasy about being in a cave. I’ve heard bears like to sleep in caves, and I would imagine many other fearsome creatures do as well.
Then I almost laugh at my thoughts. Merak is a powerful, highborn fae lord. A skilled soldier who also possesses magic. I doubt a bear or any other forest predator would prove a challenge to him.
Safe, I remind myself. I am safe with him.
Yes, my dearest, he sends down the bond. You are safe with me. But don’t worry. There are no bears or other animals inside this cave. If there were, I would be able to smell them.
He pauses for a moment, then turns toward the mouth of the cave. He gives me a comforting look and releases my hand. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he holds his hand out and closes his eyes for a few seconds. Hmm. Though I don’t see anything, I feel something. Waves of raw, winter magic.
As my mind brushes against his, the answer comes to me.
A ward. He’s erecting a ward in front of the cave, an invisible barrier that will keep anything, or anyone, from stepping inside.
My mouth goes dry at this casual display of his power… his magic. If I wished to escape him, there really wouldn’t be any hope for me. He could simply keep me contained in one place, trapped by his wards.
“Well, it is a good thing you don’t wish to escape me,” he murmurs, taking my hand again as he guides me deeper into the cavern.
I make an indistinct sound in my throat, unsure how to respond. Before I can decide whether I’m bothered by his ability to truly keep me contained, we emerge into a larger area.
My eyes widen.
This is no empty cave.
Wooden boxes are stacked along the walls. Fur blankets lie folded in neat piles. A cold firepit rests near the center of the chamber, surrounded by cushions, a large bedroll, and more fur blankets.
Someone clearly prepared this place for living… or hiding.
As my gaze sweeps over everything, my surprise deepens at how clean everything looks. The boxes, furs, cushions, and even the bedroll aren’t covered with dirt or dust, as I would expect.
I turn slowly to face my mate.
“Merak... what is this place?”
The bond is strangely quiet for a few moments.
“No one knows about this place,” he eventually says. “Not King Theron. Not Commander Ashvale. No one.”
He turns briefly to place the torch into a bracket set in the wall.
When his eyes return to me, I sense a shift in his emotions.
Not quite shame, and not quite sorrow… but what?
I draw in a deep breath and send him a wave of encouragement through the bond, letting him know that I am here and I am ready to listen.