Chapter 20 #2
The words from Venna’s contact echo in my mind even now—it might kill me if I tried to remove it.
Stark reaches out, stilling my hand with his. He’s shaking, and I look up in surprise to search his face. His features are taut with rage, and it comes off him in waves, like his magic and his physical power are gathering to strike.
He takes a breath and releases my hand, sitting down next to me on the bed. “You don’t need me to tell you that you’re strong.”
“I don’t,” I agree, and manage a weak smile. “Maybe Killian’s right. Maybe I’m arrogant. But I know I’m strong. I’m stronger than that coddled asshole who was raised to believe that everything he sets eyes on is his for the taking. And I’m going to fucking show him that.”
Stark nods, and I turn to look at him directly again, our faces so close together in the dark room.
“And I know you don’t need me to tell you that I would kill him in this world and then chase him straight into death and kill him in any others.” His voice is coiled violence.
“No, I don’t,” I agree, staring into his eyes, letting that violence sink into my skin, relishing it. “Because we both know that I’ll never rest easy until his blood is on my hands.”
His eyes search mine. He nods again, and I’m close enough to see the muscles in his neck shift with the movement, tattoos seeming to dance in the lantern light. “So tell me what you need, Meryn.”
I loosen a tight breath, my mind reeling. His presence puts me on edge, makes it hard to think straight. But there’s one question I have to ask.
“Why do you care, Stark?”
My curiosity has been building. Half the time, I can tell he hates being around me. The other half, well… I’m not sure what to make of it.
He looks down, his dark hair falling in his face. I try not to think about its silky texture between my fingers.
“Seriously,” I continue. “You’ve fulfilled your duty. I’ve claimed my crown. I don’t—I don’t need someone by my side who feels obligated to be here. I know you didn’t choose this for yourself. So just know as far as I’m concerned, you owe me nothing.”
Stark folds his big hands, the tattoos and scars on them intertwining. “I’m not going anywhere.” He still won’t look at me.
“Is it Anassa and Cratos?” I push. “I know—I know the mate bond can be so confusing. Block it out, though. It’s what I do.”
Finally, he whips his head up. The look in his eyes is burning—it’s an inferno, and if I get too close to it, it will consume me whole.
I take a nervous breath, and he hears it, his gaze dropping to my lips, lingering there.
“It’s not the mate bond, Meryn,” he finally says, dragging his gaze back to mine. His voice is a low rumble that makes my pulse pound. “And it’s not out of some noble, misplaced sense of duty, either.”
“Then why?” The words come out so quiet.
“All my life, I’ve been surrounded by people who want power for the sake of it. Who want to prove their dominance and force subservience. I didn’t know there was another way. And then I met you.”
I think I’ve stopped breathing entirely.
“I see you, Meryn Sturmfrost. I see who you are and who you could become. It’s about the hope you give me for a better future for our country, and my selfish desire to bring it to fruition.
I choose to serve at your side because I want that.
So tell me what you need, because it’s very late at night and I’m running short on patience. ”
I swallow. My pulse is racing, my skin hot.
“I need…” Another shudder racks me, and suddenly I’m so tired, more tired than I’ve ever been. “I need to sleep. I want to be helpful when we go to Weisenstat and I don’t know how I’m going to manage it if I can’t get any fucking sleep.”
I squeeze my eyes shut again in frustration.
“And Izabel… I can’t stop thinking about her. I’m the one who asked her to stay behind, not go on to the front with the rest of our packmates. I’m the reason she was here. She drank that emberwine, and it was meant for me.”
My stomach churns, grief and exhaustion tying my guts in knots, and my heart starts to race again, out of control.
“Hey,” Stark says urgently, hand coming up to grip my forearm tightly. My eyes flutter open, and I glance up at him again. “Wherever you’re going right now, don’t,” he says softly. “Take a deep breath, and then get back in bed.”
I’m not sure what else to do, so I follow his instructions. The first breath is almost painful, but by the second or third, my heart is calming, exhaustion pulling me back under. I stand, smooth the bedsheets tangled from my movement while I slept.
The bed has cooled, and the sheets aren’t as constricting when I slip back in. I extinguish the lantern again, then watch as Stark rises, too, removing his boots and moving to the other side of my bed.
“What are you doing?” I’m so tired that my mind can’t make sense of things.
“You said you need to sleep. So sleep.” He gracefully settles himself atop the covers, his broad shoulders making the huge bed look small.
“I’ll keep watch. I could sense that something was wrong, earlier.
Through the wolves’ mate bond, maybe. Now that I know…
if I sense it again, that you’re getting pulled into that dreamworld, I’ll wake you up. ”
I stare at the dark of the ceiling. “Okay.”
This is strange. But it’s also somehow… calming. The heat from his body is so close to mine that I could reach out and touch him. But I don’t.
I turn over to my side, facing away from him, but feeling him at my back. Watching my back.
The moment I close my eyes, though, my heart starts racing once more. My breath gets shallow, and Killian’s face swims up in the darkness, melting into Izabel, her face as she drank from my goblet, contorting as she chokes.
My eyes fly open, but it’s still there, burned into my vision, and I can’t help it—I start to cry.
Stark wraps one of his strong arms around me, pressing gently into my stomach through the covers. I twist my neck to look at him, startled.
“Is this okay?” His deep voice is uncharacteristically uncertain.
“It’s okay.” My body warms from the inside out, starting at the place where he touches me. I face away from him, and his arm settles more firmly around me, his body ever so gently pressing against my back.
His warmth and the solid weight of him are comforting. It soothes my breathing, helping me remember to take a full breath, then another.
I close my eyes again tentatively, focusing on the sensation of his strength around me, and no more visions come.
I’m senseless of the moment that I slip from wakefulness into sleep, deep and dreamless.
The first I’ve had in weeks.
Stark sleeps with me the next night, too—and again, I have a perfect, dreamless night. When I ask him about it, he says he can sense the shadows descending. He touches me when he feels it, and it pulls us both out of it.
With sleep, I’m finally starting to return to myself.
Still traumatized, still heartbroken.
But finally confident that I can muscle my stubborn ass through it—my specialty.
And then it’s time for us to depart for Weisenstat. In the end, Venna decides to join us. I tried to persuade her to stay back, to be near her family, but she refused. She needs the sense of purpose, to keep herself going.
Nevah stays in Sturmfrost, though. She’s going to act as my liaison in the castle—and also keep an eye on Tomison for all of us. His words and his actions still fester like a wound, but he’s my friend. I need to know he’s all right.
I decide to bring the shards of the Dire Blade with me, for goddess knows what reason.
It’s not like they’ll be much use in battle the way they are. It just felt wrong to leave them behind, and perhaps we’ll meet someone outside Sturmfrost with a better sense of how they could be reforged.
Now the pieces are wrapped in cloth and gathered in a bag lashed tight to Anassa’s back. Just one more broken thing she’s carrying with her.
We ride hard in the direction of the front—Stark, Noemi, Venna, me… and Saela.
My sister shifts in front of me now on Anassa’s sturdy back. The hiccups she had from sobbing have finally stopped, I notice.
“The young pup will be fine,” Anassa says firmly, hearing my thoughts. “She belongs with us, her family.”
Saela and I had a blowout fight. I tried to persuade her to stay at the castle, where Aldrich and Helene and Grigore could take care of her, keep her safe. The war front is no place for a child—especially one in her condition.
She cried for two days straight, begging me to take her with us. Eventually, I relented, with Anassa’s encouragement.
Encouragement might be the wrong word.
She made it clear she would bite me if I didn’t follow her command.
“If you say so,” I respond, smarting with irritation. How can you argue with an unyielding direwolf and a mouth full of fangs?
Thankfully, my head is no longer pounding from reinforcing that wall against Killian. I can’t sense him at all anymore; he’s disappeared from the communication bonds alongside Phylax.
The sun drifts low, the sky turning purple and pink. The air is fresh. The trees flanking the road are dense and drizzled with sugary snow. We move through the forest as if we’re part of it, claws sinking into mud, tails whipping, fur rippling.
We’re nearing Linsfall now, according to Stark, where we’ll stop for the night.
But we’re not near enough.
Saela grows increasingly restless, fidgeting and scratching at her arms. At one point, she leans down to smell Anassa’s fur as if to ground herself.
Her blood hunger is rising.
“We should stop briefly before reaching the city so that I may hunt for her,” Anassa tells me. It makes sense for Saela to drink before we’re in a crowded area. I want to make things smoother for her.
I pat Anassa’s side in confirmation, and she slows her pace immediately. I signal to the others over the bonds that we’ll make a quick stop—Saela needs a bathroom break, I tell them, to explain the privacy we need—and guide Anassa into the depths of the woods.
Once we’re far enough from the road, I slip from Anassa’s back in a small clearing.
She waits patiently for me to help Saela and unfasten a couple of the bags she’s carrying. I want her light so she can catch something quickly. Anassa slips away between the trees, and Saela moves jerkily to lean against a tall fir.
She’s clearly stiff, her body racked by her need for blood.
We stand in the quiet for a long while. Golden light still shimmers through the boughs. Somewhere, a graydove lets out rhythmic hoots. I expected the silent treatment to continue, but Saela’s voice joins the sounds of the forest, crackly like her throat is too dry.
“This is going to be my life from now on,” she murmurs. “Forever hiding what I am.”
I shake my head. “I swear to you, Sae. Aldrich and I are doing everything we can. We’ll find a cure for you.”
Her cheeks redden. “If there’s a cure, Meryn. If.”
“Sae—”
“Just stop, please. You shouldn’t promise things like that. What if you can’t find a cure, Mer? What if I’m a Siphon forever? Have you thought about that at all? Because it’s always on my mind.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I don’t want her to give up hope. She turns her eyes on me, and they shine with tears.
“What are you going to do with me when you fail? Will you put me away somewhere? Banish me? Leave me behind, like you tried to do today?”
I turn away, hurt, afraid. I want to tell her that nothing is more important to me than she is, but—
A twig snaps behind Saela. I whirl back around to look for Anassa returning with prey.
But there’s a man there, tall and uniformed, face twisted with hate. And he has a knife to my sister’s throat.
“Gotcha, usurper,” he snarls at me.