Chapter 23
THALRIC
It’s been a long day of travel by the time we stop beside a stream.
A rocky outcropping along the bank will provide added shelter from the wind and some extra cover for our tent.
I set down our packs and begin arranging a makeshift bed while Aurora gathers kindling.
We’re far enough from the main road that a fire should be safe tonight.
I should tell Auri not to help, that I’ll do it all, but I already know she wouldn’t listen. She’s adorably stubborn and would only insist on contributing anyway.
After helping her stack the wood into a careful pile, I go searching for thicker branches, making sure to remain near our camp. The forest seems much too quiet, and unease ripples through me. Scanning our surroundings, I crouch low and run my claws over the damp soil.
There are tracks here—large, heavy, and fresh. My nostrils flare. These were made by Ogres. I’m sure of it.
They were here no more than two days ago. This must be the path they marched to intercept us for their ambush.
I glance back through the trees to where Aurora is standing by the stacked kindling, her brow furrowed in concentration as she taps the firestones together. She doesn’t notice me watching.
Clenching my fist, I force myself to calm. I scent the air but detect no hint of any Ogres nearby. As I scan the dark woods once more, I vow that nothing will touch her. Not while I still draw breath.
When I return, she smiles up at me. “I got the fire going,” she says, pride in her voice.
“Well done.” I taught her this skill a few years ago. I help her stack more wood on the flames. “This should be enough to keep it burning through the night.”
Her cheeks flush at the praise, and something tender squeezes my chest.
I watch as she makes a stew with some of the supplies Auren and Vivienne gave us, flavored with a few herbs she gathered nearby. As I study her, I almost forget about the danger waiting for us. Almost.
Forcing myself to focus, I train my gaze on the shadows beyond the firelight, senses sharp for any sound.
“At this pace, how long until we reach the capital?” Her soft voice pulls my attention back to her.
“Two, maybe three days. We’ll be safer once we’re inside the castle wards.”
I spread out the travel blanket and furs Auren gave us, arranging them carefully in our tent. It feels like nesting, and I hate myself for it. Gargoyles do this for their mates. For the ones they can claim. And I cannot claim her.
When I’m finished, I refill our waterskins at the stream. My eyes catch on a small stone nearby. It’s smooth and shaped like a heart. My chest tightens as I pick it up, wishing I could gift it to her.
Clenching my jaw, I set it back down when I remember that I shouldn’t keep doing this. Not when I know she belongs to someone else. Someone chosen by fate.
When I glance back, she’s humming as she sprinkles more herbs into the pot. The sound makes something inside me ache. She is everything to me.
As I set the food between us, my gaze drops to the necklace around her throat. Heat lances through me, sharp and possessive. It’s the starlit gemstone I gave her.
As we eat, she stares into the fire, her gaze distant. “I don’t even know what to say to them… to my parents,” she murmurs. “I thought they were dead my whole life. And now I’m supposed to stand before them like nothing happened?”
Her voice cracks, and I clench my fists. I want to tell her I’ll stand beside her, that she won’t have to face any of it alone. But the words lodge in my throat because I know it will not be my place.
As her personal guard, my place will be in the shadows behind her, constantly watching—guarding and protecting her from any danger.
“And Ryllen.” She swallows hard. “What am I supposed to do? I don’t even know what sort of man he is. What if he’s cruel?”
Ryllen. His name is a blade to my chest. Flexing my toes, I dig my claws into the dirt, fighting the urge to roar. A snarl curls my lips. If he is cruel, I will end him. Without hesitation or mercy.
“I won’t let him harm you,” I vow, even as my heart whispers, ‘because you are mine and I will die before I let anyone hurt you.’
“You love me,” she says, her voice soft but certain. “I know you do.”
I go still, the truth burning in my chest.
“I don’t care about the curse.” Aurora slips her palm into mine, my larger hand seeming to swallow her dainty one as her eyes search my own. “I choose you, Thalric.”
Her words nearly undo me, and my tail curls possessively around her ankle.
Gods, I want her. I want to claim her, to tell her she’s mine and always has been. But if the curse takes her and I am not the one who can break it, I would doom her with my selfishness.
Clenching my jaw, I force myself to retract my tail as I pull back my hand.
Aurora’s eyes shine with tears as her voice wavers. “Are you really going to pretend you don’t feel the same?”
I stare into the flames, jaw tight. “Our fate cannot be changed.”
“I don’t care about fate.” Her honey brown eyes burn with determination as they meet mine. “If you truly love me—”
“It doesn’t matter, Aurora.” The lie sears my tongue.
I love her more than anything, and because I love her, I must push her away.
“You are the Princess of Briarwyn, and I am to be your guard.” I clench my jaw as pain threatens to tear my heart in two.
“That is all I can ever be to you. Nothing more.”
Her breath catches, but I don’t dare look at her again. If I do, I’ll give in to the primal instincts roaring through my veins, demanding that I mark her and claim her as my mate.
So I keep my eyes on the fire and let the truth burn me alive.
Instead of answering, she draws in a shaking breath and my heart breaks as I smell the salt of her tears.
Gods help me, but I cannot stand that I’ve made her cry. And even though I know it’s wrong, I cannot stop myself from reaching for her.
With a ragged sob, she flings her arms around me, and I pull her into my lap, enfolding her in my wings as she cries against my chest. “It’s not fair, Thalric.” Her voice shakes with emotion. “It’s not fair.”
“I know,” I murmur into her hair.
If I could, I would hold her forever and never let her go. But I cannot. To do so could damn her to an eternity of enchanted sleep, and I love her too much to risk this.
Aurora eventually drifts to sleep. Carefully, I carry her into the tent and tuck the blankets and furs around her smaller form. After a while, her breathing steadies, though I can still see the faint tracks of tears on her cheeks.
I rise silently, careful not to wake her, and check the forest around our camp. The night air is damp and heavy with the scent of earth and pine. My eyes sweep the trees, searching for anything that might be lurking.
The ground tells me enough. Those tracks I saw earlier are half-washed by mist now, but I see a sapling snapped clean at the base, bark scraped by something large. They were here not long ago, and every instinct in me worries they could return.
I flex my claws, forcing back the growl rising in my throat.
I return to her side and sink to my haunches, wings half-furled as I keep watch. Her face is peaceful now in sleep, framed by firelight, her lips parted faintly as if whispering a dream. My chest aches so fiercely it’s nearly unbearable.
Staring out at the darkness, I swear that nothing will touch her. Not the beasts that stalk these woods. Not Malvara—the Goblin witch. Not even fate itself.
Even if I cannot take Aurora as my mate… as long as I breathe, she is mine to protect.