Chapter Twenty-Three
Calista
We moved as the first threads of light pierced the horizon, hugging the shielded side of a ridge where the wind had less bite.
My body still complained, but I forced myself to run when I needed to.
Everest hovered whether I liked it or not.
He adjusted my pack, offered me water, fell back to spot my steps and occasionally ranged ahead to scout but never went too far.
Goddess, only a few days with this male, and I’d begun to rely on someone for the first time in my life. What was it about him that made it so easy?
We didn’t talk much as we trekked north, but when we did, it was comfortable. It felt as if I’d known the king’s guard for years. For a brutal beast with a legend that preceded him, the Black Wolf was surprisingly amiable.
“How are your boots holding up?” His voice cut across the whipping wind.
“Fine, just like the last dozen times you asked.”
Everest moved into step beside me, a wry grin peeking beneath the edges of the mask. “You’re no good to the king if you’re permanently injured, you know.”
“Ah, I see.” Right, how could I have forgotten I was nothing more than Savage’s most prized possession? And my guard’s sacred duty.
He must have noticed the irritated twist to my lips. The male noticed everything. “Calista—”
“No, I understand perfectly. How can I perform my duties as queen if I’m damaged during the Hunt?” Everything about Savage radiated power, and obviously the same would have to be true of his mate.
A wicked grin curled his lips, one not even the iron wolf could hide. “You don’t need to be on your feet to perform your duty to the king.”
Heat flushed my cheeks, burning my skin, my eyes wide at his brazen reply. I opened my mouth then closed it, all the words stuck at the back of my throat. Then I remembered who I was. Hollowcrest females bite. Stopping midstride, I spun at him, lifting onto my tiptoes.
“Tell your king this.” I moved close enough that my breath fogged his mask. “If he wants a queen for what she can do flat on her back, he can crown a mattress. I’ll earn my throne on my feet.”
“Cal—”
A dark blur cut across the slope just below us, stopping him midsentence. Before I could make out the form, my guard’s arm curled around my waist, yanking me behind the broad expanse of his back against the cliffside.
“I can fight my own battles,” I hissed.
“It’s Cera Vault of Obsidianhelm,” he muttered low under his breath.
She was moving fast, head down, one hand on the rock as if she could feel a path through it. It didn’t seem like she’d seen us. A few seconds later, she disappeared around the bend.
I exhaled in relief. “We haven’t seen many of the other competitors.” The thought spilled out followed by worry. Did that mean they were ahead of us? A whisper of fear kindled low in my gut. Goddess, if I didn’t win, I could lose everything.
Had I been too arrogant to think I’d succeed? Had I gambled too much?
As if Everest had read my mind, his eyes softened a touch. “There are miles of land between us and the throne and many paths to tread. We’re making good time, trust me.”
A breath later the air split with a scream and a deep, wrong growl that didn’t sound fully animal.
I froze, glancing at the path below us. “What was that?”
“Maybe another tusk-bear. Or something else.”
“That scream… it must have been Cera. Maybe there’s something we can do. We should at least try to help her.”
Everest’s jaw went hard as he listened, eyes on the wind. In an instant, the scream strangled to nothing. “It’s too late.” His voice was quiet and sure. “If we run to every cry, we’ll only join the bodies piling up.”
I swallowed hard. “Do you think that’s why we haven’t seen more Wolvryn daughters?”
He shrugged. “It’s possible. If it isn’t a beast or a competitor to do them in, it’s the unforgiving terrain or the cold.”
Goddess, that was grim.
“We have to try—” my hushed whisper was cut off by another anguished scream and the sound of flesh ripping. “Oh, goddess.” I blanched. She was still alive. Or at least she had been.
“There’s nothing we can do for her. Best move now before whatever caught her tracks our scent, too.”
“Fine…”
We kept to shadow and brush, moving silently away from the grisly Cera Vault incident.
Though I didn’t know the female, a tiny part of me felt guilty over her loss.
She wouldn’t be here—wouldn’t be dead—if I hadn’t called for the Blood Hunt.
I doubted she’d been given much of a choice to compete in the rite.
Unless things were different in Obsidianhelm.
There was likely a family who would grieve the girl, a mother, maybe even a sister.
My thoughts leapt to Suri and Ma. Selraya, keep them safe.
With my mind preoccupied, I stepped on a tilted slab of land crusted in ice and slipped. My feet slid out from under me, and my hand shot out. Somehow, I caught myself with a palm against the icy cliffside. Pain streaked down my leg.
“Easy.” Everest was there at once, steadying me with a hand at my waist before I hit the ground. “You’re pushing it too hard.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” He crouched, fingers checking my ankle. “Give me ten seconds.”
“Five.” But I didn’t move as his nimble fingers slid beneath my boot. They were warm and gentle, and already oddly familiar. I barely suppressed the groan from his touch. “I’m fine,” I insisted again.
A cloaked figure stepped out from behind a fir trunk, silent, quick, and with a strip of thorn-studded cord already in his hands. The Thornwild hunter. Frost take me.
Everest was on his feet in an instant, glaring at the male.
Bram approached as nimbly as a cat. “Calista Vale…” His breath steamed the frosty air, and a thin smile cut his face.
He wasted only a moment on my guard who’d leapt in front of me.
“Lord Trystan sends his regards to your king. He will be more than happy to take this troublesome prize bride off his hands.”
I could almost feel Everest tense, fury emanating from every pore. “I doubt it’s just his bride that Trystan wants.”
“I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?” The hunter struck for my wrists.
I twisted and dropped instead of fighting the first bind.
Bram threw the rope, and the cord brushed my skin but missed.
He swore and snatched for my shoulder, but I slid under his arm, snapping my rope ring across his knuckles.
He hissed and backhanded me with the other hand.
Stars burst behind my eyes, and a low growl vibrated the air around us.
Or was that in my head?
The thorn-cord whipped again, this time coiling around my forearm before I could dodge it. I tried to yank free, my skin burning from the rope, flesh torn by the thorns.
No. No.
“Moonbraid to the bride, witnessed—” Bram started, forcing the law into the air.
But I was nowhere close to giving up. Reaching behind my back with my free hand, I loosed a crescent, slicing it through the cord.
The hunter cursed again, and this time answered with steel. A short blade flashed. The tip kissed my ribs and opened a hot line of pain through my cloak. It wasn’t a bind. It was a strike out of spite.
“Bastard,” I hissed, an instant before Everest lunged.
My sworn guard didn’t snarl or roar, he just hit the hunter like a storm.
One second the Thornwild male stood in front of me with a knife, the next he was on his back in the snow.
Everest’s thick hand clamped around his throat, knee pinning his wrist. The sound that came out of my guard wasn’t human.
It was low and rough, like gravel dragged across stone.
“You drew the bride’s blood,” Everest growled, voice stripped and dangerous.
“And now, I will spill yours.” His pupils were blown wide.
His breath came too fast. Under his skin something pressed.
I could almost feel his Wolvryn rising, called by blood and moon and rage.
His canines lengthened, a shade too long for Fae.
His fingers flexed around the hunter’s throat, claws begging to be released.
The Thornwild male spat, blood red on white snow. “Do it then,” he rasped out. “But tell the Savage that Trystan won’t forget her that easily.” His gaze raked over me, hungry.
A streak of revulsion gnawed at my insides.
“Good,” Everest snarled. “Neither will I.”
Bram jerked, trying to buck him off. Everest let him tire, waste his energy, then caught his knife hand.
He bent it past what his bone could bear before stealing the blade.
But he didn’t use it on him, instead, he threw it aside and used his hands.
One sharp crack at the elbow. “For the thorn braid,” Everest growled.
Another break at the knee. “For the blade.”
I winced as the hunter’s screams echoed, but I just couldn’t look away.
A slice across his cheek. “For touching her at all,” he snarled.
It was not death but rather disablement, piece by piece. Finally, the hunter, frantic and stupid, lunged up and drove his own weight onto Everest’s forearm and reached for my leg again.
That was the last wrong move he ever made.
Everest’s restraint snapped like a snare line.
He slammed the hunter’s head into the packed ground once, twice, enough to daze him but not quite finish him off.
“You lifted a blade to her,” he repeated, voice gone gravel.
His fingers tightened around his neck. “You shed her blood.” He twisted, faster than what seemed physically possible, and then wrenched hard.
“For that you will die.” Bram’s neck gave with a wet pop.
Silence hit so hard it rang. Steam lifted from the male’s mouth and then stopped. The entire forest seemed to lean away.
I’d seen brutality before. I’d even expected it in the Hunt. What I hadn’t expected was Everest.
I still stood frozen, heart banging, and ribs burning under my palm. Shock crawled up my spine. And yet, another part of me, the dark, honest part, felt a savage, ugly kind of relief. The Black Wolf would do that for me. For me.
Savage had sent him to guard me, not to slaughter every male who looked at me wrong. And still, Everest had chosen blood. If the king ever ordered him to step aside and let harm reach me, I wondered if his guard would break before he bent.
Everest didn’t move for a long breath. His shoulders heaved once, and I watched him fight it—no, I felt it.
The beast in him surged against skin and law, even the moon.
To my knowledge, he was not an Alpha, therefore, his Wolvryn should not have been able to emerge this early.
Still, his hands curled, claws threatening to erupt, until he forced his fingers flat on his thighs.
He put his forehead to the cold ground and breathed a slow count.
“One. Two. Three,” I whispered. “Just breathe.”
He echoed the count with me. “One. Two. Three.”
It was as if my voice calmed the storm. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes burned a deep blue, but the wild had stepped back a pace.
He rose and came to me at once, all that ruin left behind him like shed skin.
He stopped just short of touching me. “Where did he hurt you?” His voice was rough and careful at the same time.
His hands hovered like he was afraid to touch me and afraid not to. In that hover lived something dangerous: a vow that did not belong to kings or laws. A vow that would turn on the king himself if it had to.
“My ribs,” I finally murmured, peeling my palm away. Blood striped my side where the knife had grazed. Thankfully, it was shallow. It stung more than it really threatened. “I’m okay, Everest.” I reached for his hand, warm and calloused, and gave him a reassuring squeeze.
He set his jaw, anger banked to ember. “May I see it?”
I nodded. He tugged my cloak aside, jaw clenching when his gaze found the torn flesh. Reaching for his satchel, he withdrew the field kit. With careful fingers, he cleaned the cut with a strip of linen and a trickle of water from his skin.
I bit down on a hiss as the fabric grazed the wound.
His eyes lifted to mine, worry etched into his jaw.
“It’s okay. Just keep going.”
He worked like I was glass, breath steady now and hands sure. Every touch was a question. One I didn’t have answers for. When I flinched, he slowed, anxious eyes meeting mine.
When I breathed, he continued to wrap the bandage, careful fingers brushing my skin. Goosebumps puckered my flesh, and a different sort of chill consumed my body. My breath hitched, each light touch driving unexpected heat between my legs.
Selraya save me.
I was more than thankful when he finally finished. He tied the bandage tight enough to hold and loose enough to allow for movement.
“Any dizziness?” he asked.
“No.”
“Good.” His gaze flicked to my face, searching. “I’m sorry you had to witness that.”
“I’m not.” The truth surprised me more than it did him. “The hunter drew first blood, and you were only fulfilling your duty.”
Everest’s mouth tipped the smallest bit, relief and something warmer easing his features. “He did, and I was.” He glanced back at the body. “And now, he won’t ever touch you again.”
He picked up the fallen thorn-cord, snapped it in half, and tossed it into the brush. Then he shrugged his cloak higher around my shoulders with the barest touch across my skin.
“Can you keep moving?”
“I can.” I stretched out my arm, testing the sting in my side. “I will.”
“Good.” He offered his arm, and this time it didn’t feel like an order, just an option. I took it for three steps, then let go, because I needed to be able to say that I did.
We left the Thornwild hunter where he fell and turned north. The wind cut across the ridge. Everest stayed close, a storm I wasn’t afraid of anymore, and for a long while neither of us spoke.
We didn’t have to.