Chapter Twenty-Four
Calista
The path along the sea kept trying to drag us east, but the wind had other ideas. We edged along broken rocks where the coast bent like a hook. As we crept ahead, I spotted a faint edge of black peeking from beneath a rock. “Stop!”
Everest froze, scanning the surroundings and unsheathing his sword before his gaze followed my finger. “Tar lines.”
He huffed an annoyed sigh and dropped his sword back into its sheath. Then he crouched in front of the boulder carefully disguising the trap. Lifting the oversized rock, his nostrils flared at the sight of the black. “Nightreef.”
“Are you sure?” The hair on my nape prickled as I scanned the Silverveil to the east.
Everest nodded, his gaze tracking the shoreline, then the distant white chop. “You know, Nightreef didn’t invent tar lines. They learned it from Tarrik.”
“Who exactly is this Tarrik?” I kept my voice low. I’d now heard the name multiple times.
“Tarrik leads one of the larger southern packs, the Blackwake.” The words came out like a curse.
“They typically target the mainland, riding the sea-ice and striking the coves when the wind turns east. They don’t just steal food.
They take fishers, scouts, and boys with fast feet.
They leave tar on the stones so tracking fails, and they burn nets so hunger finishes what their blades don’t. ”
I knew that hunger well.
But my thoughts lingered on the name. Tarrik.
I had no idea the southern raiders had unified under a leader.
According to Aunt Mara, they were numerous, leaderless rogue packs.
My stomach tightened at memories of the Hollowcrest shore the day I left.
I eyed the choppy waves of the Silverveil once more. “Do you think they’re close?”
“Close enough that Frostcrag’s watchfires have been lit three nights in a row now.”
How had I not noticed that? “And what will the king do about it?”
“He’s readying for war.”
I swallowed hard, processing his words. There had never been a full out war in my lifetime. Somehow, the king had managed to unite the twelve Courts without the rest of Lunaris suffering.
“No time to worry about that now, little wolf.” He shook his head and motioned up the shore. “Let’s keep moving.”
We took the inland cut to avoid the tar lines. The ground pitched up hard, thicket tugging at our boots, and gulls complaining over the cliff edge. Everest’s gaze remained on a constant swivel that started and ended with me.
“Do you think any of the other contestants fell into Nightreef’s tar trap?” I cocked my head to steal a glance at my companion.
“It’s likely. Unless the others are as cunning as you.” He shot me a smirk.
“Why do you think the worse of the other daughters?” Whenever I’d mentioned any of them marrying Savage, his expression soured.
“Because I’ve served beside the king since Frostcrag first followed him as Alpha. I’m brutally familiar with all twelve Courts. The daughters are every bit as cutthroat as their hunters and Alphas. Any one of them would kill to wear that crown. Don’t ever forget that.”
There was something in his dark gaze that made me believe every word. And yet, somehow, I was still alive.
“How did you become the Savage King’s Black Wolf?”
He didn’t answer right away. Then, unexpectedly, the corner of his mouth tipped up. That clever, dangerous amusement lit his blue eyes until they gleamed like sunlight striking frost. “You don’t believe the mighty legends of the king’s right hand?”
“That depends on the legend.” I scrunched my nose. “Some say you go so feral you’re liable to swallow a male whole.”
Everest laughed.
Not the rough huff I’d heard from him before or the quiet, private sound he made when something genuinely amused him. This was real laughter, warm and unguarded and rich enough that I found myself staring like I’d never heard such a sound before.
Then, traitorously, I laughed too.
His grin lingered long after the sound faded. “I assure you, Calista, I have never once eaten a male. Whole or otherwise.” His gaze dragged over me, wicked now. “Females, on the other hand…”
“Everest…” My cheeks flamed. “You’re impossible.”
He ignored my outrage entirely and raised one finger. “No, I’ve been reliably informed I’m excellent actually.”
That damnable heat surged to the tips of my ears.
“Insufferable,” I muttered, then stomped ahead of him down the trail before he could see how hard I was blushing. Moon curse this male and his mouth.
Behind me, his laughter chased at my heels.
“You are being wildly inappropriate,” I called over my shoulder. “Surely, the king would not approve of this conversation with his bride.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’d be devastated,” Everest drawled, amusement dripping from every syllable. “To see Calista Vale, goddess blessed, sharp-tongued and far too pretty when she’s angry, brought low by the mere suggestion of her devoted guard…”
My boot caught on a rock, and I stumbled.
His laughter broke cleanly this time. “...feasting,” he finished, hand finding my back to steady.
“I’m not listening to you.” I clapped my hands over my ears, though not tightly enough to miss his next chuckle.
“All right, all right. I’m done. For now.”
I lowered my hands and glanced up at him. The sharp lines of his face had softened with humor. It made him look younger. Less like the king’s shadow and more like a male who had once been allowed to belong to himself.
That was somehow even more dangerous.
“So,” I said, clearing my throat, “is the northern cove story true?”
His brows lifted. “Which one?”
“The King and the Wolf. Surely, you’ve heard the bards of the north sing it.”
He looked almost offended. “I avoid songs about myself on principle.” Then he gave me a sidelong glance. “But if you tell it, I’ll correct the truth from the nonsense.”
I snorted. “You just want to hear stories about yourself.”
“Not at all.” His expression went solemn enough to be insulting. “I want to hear you sing stories about me.”
I rolled my eyes. “There will be no singing.”
“Fine,” he grumbled. “Then just tell me what you’ve heard.”
I wagged a finger at him. “If you interrupt every other line, I’ll throw you off the nearest cliff.”
“Cruel.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Go on, then.”
I slowed a little, thinking. “The story says that when the Black Wolf was young, he ran messages along the northern coves. He had fast feet and a faster mouth. Always in trouble.”
Everest made a thoughtful sound. “Already this tale sounds handsome.”
“I didn’t say handsome.”
“You implied it.”
“I absolutely did not.”
His grin widened, but he let me continue.
“A raider crew started lifting nets from the coves. Burning what they couldn’t carry and taking boys who gave chase. So the Black Wolf tracked them alone, because of course he did. These stories never allow anyone else to help.”
“Help is inefficient,” Everest said.
I ignored that. “He found their camp, slipped in at night, freed the boys first, and then cut their boat to pieces before the raiders woke.”
“Not the boat,” Everest said.
I stopped and turned. “You’re correcting me already?”
“You told it wrong already.”
I folded my arms. “Fine. What did the glorious Black Wolf cut, then?”
“The rudder.”
I blinked. “That’s… actually smarter.”
“I know.”
I scowled at him. “You are not supposed to agree that easily.”
He only gestured for me to keep going.
“The boys shoved off at tide-turn, thinking they’d escaped, but the current dragged them into a rip. The captain panicked, and the crew turned on itself. It was all very dramatic and very bard-worthy. Too convenient, in fact.”
Everest’s mouth twitched. “Convenient for whom?”
“For you, obviously.” I stepped over a ridge of stone. “Then the Frostcrag Alpha appears, because apparently he’d been hunting the same crew.”
“That part is true.”
I looked at him sharply. “So the rest might be too?”
“Tell it properly and perhaps I’ll reward you with honesty.”
I narrowed my eyes, then continued. “The Alpha asks why the Black Wolf didn’t slit the captain’s throat in his sleep and be done with it.”
“And?”
“And the Black Wolf says some problems are better solved than stabbed.”
Everest’s gaze flicked to mine. “Do you dislike that answer?”
“I dislike how noble it sounds.” I shrugged. “You don’t strike me as noble.”
“No?”
“No. Useful. Dangerous. Arrogant. Occasionally entertaining.” I paused. “But noble? Not particularly.”
That earned me a low laugh. “Go on, Calista.”
I pretended not to notice the warmth that moved through me at the sound of my name in his mouth.
“Then the Alpha begins testing him. With whiteouts, cliff paths, and tracking drills. Find me before dawn without being seen. Hold this ridge alone. Spill no blood unless there’s no other way.” I glanced at him. “And if he chooses pride over purpose, he fails.”
Everest’s expression altered at that, just slightly. Not darkened but focused.
“And does he fail?” he asked.
“Of course he does. Otherwise, it’s not a story, it’s just propaganda.”
A rough sound escaped him that might have been approval.
“The last part is the one the bards like best,” I continued. “At the Lupherium, under a full moon, the Alpha tells him to put steel to his throat.”
Everest’s gaze sharpened.
“They say the Black Wolf presses the blade until the king bleeds,” I said more quietly. “Just one drop.”
The wind slipped between us.
“And then?” he asked.
“And then he doesn’t kill him.” I shrugged. “Because apparently that’s the point. He steps back and says a king needs a shadow who knows when not to strike. So the Alpha gives him the wolf helm and names him the Black Wolf.”
Silence settled between us for a few steps.
Then Everest murmured, “Mostly right.”
I spun toward him. “Mostly?”
“The rudder, not the boat. And the raider captain was already dead by the time they shoved off.”
I stared. “What?”
Everest kept walking, and I had to hurry to catch up. “I thought I’d killed the right male the night before. Turns out it was the wrong one.”
The easy humor had not vanished, exactly, but something quieter sat beneath it now.
“Oh.”
“Mmm.”
“And the Alpha had already been training you?”
“Since I was a boy.”
I frowned. “A boy?”
He paused at a narrowing in the path and let me pass first. “It takes time to forge a weapon fit to guard a realm.”
That answer sounded like him. Dry. Controlled. Entirely too matter-of-fact for something that should have felt monstrous.
I glanced back at him. “You aren’t sworn to the king, then?”
“Of course I am, he is my Alpha, but my loyalty is to the kingdom first.”
“And the laws,” I said.
He nodded once. “The good ones, anyway.”
That made me look at him harder. Because there it was again, that strange divide in him. Not blind obedience. Not simple devotion. Something more deliberate than either. Something chosen.
“The story leaves that part out.”
He nodded. “Most stories do.”
I studied him a moment longer, then asked the thing I’d been circling all along. “And what made him keep you?”
Everest’s mouth curved, but only faintly now. “You assume I was kept.”
“You were given the king’s wolf helm,” I said. “That sounds suspiciously like being claimed.”
“And here I thought you were the expert on being difficult to claim.”
Heat touched my cheeks again, but this time I held his gaze. “Don’t avoid the question.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Because I knew when to cut and when to hold,” he said.
“Because I understood that some fights are won with blood, and some are won by leaving the right male alive long enough to fear you.” His eyes slid to mine, colder and brighter all at once.
“And because when the time came, I chose the kingdom over myself.”
The words landed heavier than I expected.
I tried to make light of it anyway. “Very dramatic.”
“It was a dramatic tale.”
I huffed a laugh. Then I looked at him again, really looked, at the male walking beside me with all that easy danger stitched into his powerful stride. “I still think the bards made you too noble.”
He dipped his head toward me, blue eyes gleaming. “And I still think you’re disappointed to discover I’m worse.”
I smiled before I could stop myself. “Maybe a little.”
His answering grin was all teeth and winter and trouble. “Good.”
I slowed half a step. “Everest...”
He glanced back.
“Why me?” I asked bluntly. “Why are you being so kind to me?”
“It’s my duty…”
I shook my head. “No, it’s more than that. The other guards I encountered on the crossing, at Frostcrag, that was duty. This is different.”
Something flickered behind his eyes, fast as a struck match, then the mask settled back over him. “Because you don’t move like a female who expects to be saved,” he said quietly. “You move like someone who has been saving everyone else for a long time.”
I swallowed.
“And because I’ve watched Courts grind good females into silence. You didn’t go quietly. You chose the Hunt, and I respect your choice.” His gaze held mine for one hard beat. “Duty put me at your shoulder, but it isn’t the only reason I’m staying there.”
He turned and continued up the path, putting an end to the discussion. I moved into step beside him, mulling over his words, over everything that had happened in the past week. The Blood Hunt was, and yet was not, at all what I’d imagined it to be.
When we finally topped the gray ridge, a small shape peeled out of the fog at our right.