Chapter Twenty-Six
Calista
When all the meat was gone, I forced myself to move. With a full belly and renewed resolve, slivers of hope surged to the surface. I was getting closer to the throne, I could feel it.
The Black Wolf walked by my side, close enough that his shoulder brushed mine when the ground tilted sharply. He said nothing for a long while, eyes pinned on the horizon. The quiet wasn’t angry. It was just thoughtful.
“How are you holding up?” he asked at last.
Every muscle in my body screamed in pain. “Just fine.”
He glanced down at me, eyes dark and steady behind the helm, reading the lie. “Anything else you’d like to share?”
I kept my attention on the path. “Nothing at all.”
His jaw worked. The piney wind filled the space between us.
I waited for more, but it never came, and I told myself it was just as well. Whatever was brewing between us, an attraction, or just desperation, we could never act upon it.
We climbed until the firs thinned and the light went the color of hammered steel. My body complained from the relentless pace, but the fields were just ahead and the cold bit less when my guard walked close. I told myself I didn’t lean in, and no one was there to call me a liar.
By last light we finally reached the creek Alma had promised. The fallen cedar marked the bend like a black crown.
Everest checked the water line, checked the slope, and then the sky. “We take Alma’s route.”
“Because we trust her?”
“No. I already told you, I don’t trust any of these females and neither should you.”
“Then why?”
“Because she told us about Nightreef’s trap.” His mouth bent, almost a smile. “And then warned us how to step around it.” He offered his hand over the slick stones. “Careful.”
“I’m always careful.”
“Not with me.”
“Maybe I should be.” Still, I slid my palm into his.
His fingers wrapped around mine, firm and warm, and heat ran up my arm like a spark catching dry pine. His gaze met my own, pure smoldering blue, and the world narrowed to his eyes and the small catch of our breaths.
Something old and wolf-sharp stirred under my ribs as he held my hand, a wanting that pressed close to the skin. We stayed there a heartbeat too long, pulse to pulse, until the wind turned with the tang of salt and reef tar.
“Come, little wolf, we must keep moving.” He gave my hand a tug and led me across the slippery stones.
Once we passed the treacherous crossing, I let his hand go, but the heat of it remained long after. It was a quiet promise thrumming under my skin as we slipped back off the main path, following a trail.
An hour later, clouds stacked like black cliffs over the sea to the east. The first drops came as sharp as pebbles, stinging my face.
Everest’s hand found mine again, tugging me into a shelter beneath the branches of the towering firs.
The rain came at us sideways, turning the path to slick mud.
The wind shoved at my back and the air tasted like iron.
“There’s a storm coming,” Everest grumbled. “A real one.”
Lightning cracked far out over the water as if confirming his words. A heartbeat later thunder rolled up the coast and rattled the stones under our boots.
“These trees won’t do, we need an actual roof.”
“Do you know of any hidden caves around here?”
He scanned the horizon before his keen sight caught on something mine had not. “No, but I have something better. It’s only a few minutes’ walk.” He ticked his chin ahead.
I squinted and just made out a pale shape rising out on a narrow spit of rock nearly blending into the sky. A lighthouse, tall and bone-white, its glass crown dark. We were still in Saltspire territory. The former home of my father and Aunt Mara, but I doubted that would grant me any mercies.
“Can you make it?”
“I suppose I’ll have to since the law says you can’t carry me, and you are such a stickler for it.” I attempted a reassuring smile. “How did you know it was there?”
“I already told you, I know the land. I grew up running it.”
A quarter of an hour later and my cloak was drenched, a bone-deep chill icing every inch of me. Everest stayed at my shoulder through the torture. His palm hovered over my lower back without touching, as if just the idea of him alone might steady me.
Somehow, it did.
When we finally reached the door of the lighthouse, I slumped against the cracked frame. Every muscle in my legs and body burned, thighs trembling, overused from the hours of steep climbing.
The door was jammed, of course. Everest slammed his shoulder into the timber and made quick work of the hinges. The sudden sharp shriek froze my blood as they squealed their annoyance and gave.
“I’ll go first.” Everest took the lead, eyeing the shadowed nooks for danger. “If the gods are good, the guard will be on break.”
I stood at the entrance, leaning on the outer wall for support. Icy rain came at me sideways, the tiny stings inciting a flurry of curses.
An impossibly long moment later, Everest reappeared.
“Have the gods been good?” I croaked.
“Never.” His grin turned mischievous beneath the mask. “But you must have been a very good girl, Calista Vale because the guard seems to have abandoned his post.”
Before my weary tongue could counter, he offered a hand and towed me inside.
Beyond the narrow doorway, the stair tower curled tight.
It was dry, at least, and the wind died to a low hum.
We climbed, or rather he climbed and I limped behind him.
My breath sawed on the ascent while his stayed calm.
On the landing below the lantern room we stopped, both of us dripping wet, both of us grinning like thieves from relief.
Luck had been on our side after all.
A worn wooden chair and a small cot stood against the window beside a cracked basin that caught rainwater.
My gaze snagged on the cot, then flicked to Everest, and heat crept up my throat that had nothing to do with the storm. He noticed, because he always noticed everything, but he didn’t say a word.
So neither did I. Then I moved faster than I ever had in my life, collapsing onto the makeshift bed. I huffed out a sigh as the burn of exhaustion caused my legs to tremble.
Everest knelt by my boots and pulled at the laces. “Hold still.” He slid away, rummaged in his pack, revealed a dented tin cup and a squat iron can that looked like it had boiled a hundred storms.
He set the can on a low brick ledge beneath the shuttered lantern, fed it a finger’s worth of oil, and struck steel. A tight blue flame licked up in seconds. Then he turned his attention to me.
"What are you doing?"
"Making you frostmint tea. It'll warm you and help with the aches."
"I don't need it. Truly. Some rest and I'll be as good as new."
"Of course you will," he said, as he continued to fill a cup with the rainwater from the basin, tipped in the leaves, and held it over the little fire until steam curled, totally ignoring me.
“Five breaths.” He watched the little fire like it might bite. Then he poured, the tea going a murky green. The smell was sharp and bitter. He tested a sip, eyebrows lifting. “Still awful, which means it should work.”
He came back to the cot, kneeled in front of me, big shoulder brushing my thigh, and slid a hand behind my calf to lift my foot.
Heat ran through my stocking under his palm as he peeled one off, then the other, carefully placing them on the little table by the cot. He offered the cup with the other hand.
“Drink.”
“Bossy.” Still, I took a swallow and gagged. “Sel save me.”
His mouth tipped. “She already did. We met a Mistvale with a conscience, and you have me as a guard.” The smirk grew more brazen as his thumbs lightly pressed into the back of my calf, perfectly soothing the aching muscle.
“Drink more.”
He watched me sip the tea, then accepted the cup I held out to him, set it aside and eased my leg back down before moving to the other. His fingers lingered a heartbeat on my foot after he finished the thorough rub down. “Give it a minute. Soon the ache will dull, and you’ll get your steps back.”
“It’s vile,” I muttered, only to distract myself from the reassuring feel of his calloused fingers.
“It’s mercy dressed badly.” He smirked. “Rest while it takes hold. I’ll see what I can find in this place.” He rose, but his knuckles brushed my knee on the way, a touch light as breath that somehow warmed me even more than the hot tea.
I forced the liquid down as he canvased the tight space. When he returned, his eyes narrowed through the mask. “You’re shaking.” His words were soft as he folded his massive frame beside me.
“It’s not too bad,” I lied.
His helm came off, and he pushed his rain-dark hair back with his knuckles.
The nearness in that small circle of quiet pulled at me.
The scent of cedar and frostmint blanketed the space, easing the wild thrum of my pulse.
Through the glass, the moon pressed behind the clouds, close enough to taste, and something in my chest answered.
“Move over,” he said.
“What?”
His hands closed around my waist and drew me forward on the cot as if there were no other option. There wasn’t. The bed was narrow, and if I didn’t yield, I’d end up on the floor.
“What are you—”
Everest moved behind me, back to the wall, and guided me between his legs. My shoulders fit against his chest like the space had been made for it. His cloak wrapped around us both, sealing out the damp. His breath grazed my temple with every slow inhale, but I’d stopped breathing all together.
Shared warmth. Shared breath.
My pulse leapt, stupid and fast.
I could feel him everywhere.
“Breathe,” he murmured. The word wasn’t a command so much as an anchor. “You’re cold to the bone so let me warm you.” Not a question.
His hands bracketed my arms and rubbed heat back into them, slow and steady. When I shivered again, he tucked my chilled fingers into the warmth under the edge of his cloak, making a shelter out of his body.
The storm raged outside, but in here there was only him, and the heat he offered without asking for anything in return.
The sting in my eyes caught me off guard.
I was bone-tired and too close to breaking.
He folded me in tighter, and I pressed my cheek to his chest until my breath matched his.
His scent hit hard this time, cold smoke and cedar, a bite of frostmint, and under it, something low and warm I couldn’t quite name.
My pulse eased against that warmth, and for a beat the storm outside was the only thing still moving.
He dipped his chin to my shoulder, warm breath sending goosebumps across my skin. “Calista.” My name was a vow in that voice.
I tipped my head back, meeting his gaze over my shoulder. Our breaths met.
And held.
An eternity passed in that moment. Something dark and unreadable flashed across those azure irises as he regarded me. I couldn’t look away, even though I knew damned well I should. I was helplessly trapped in that tempestuous gaze.
His mouth was close. Too close. I could feel the heat of him on my lips, the pause where a decision lived.
I swallowed hard. My ribs still burned under the bandage. The Hunt pressed in from every side. And still, all I could think was that he was here, holding me together with his strength, his warmth, his powerful body.
“If this goes terribly wrong,” I whispered, barely a sound over the storm, “if your king blames you for anything… I won’t let you take the fault alone.”
Everest went still behind me. “Calista,” he warned softly, like he didn’t want me to make promises I couldn’t keep.
“I mean it.” I forced the words past my throat. “I’ll tell the truth. I’ll say what you did and why. I’ll pay the cost with you.”
His exhale came rough against my hair. One of his hands slid to my sternum, as if he could feel the sincerity in my heartbeat. “There will be no cost to pay.”
“I’ve been paying costs my whole life, Everest. This one would at least be my choice.”
Something in his grip tightened, not painful, just real.
My breath caught, our lips still only a heartbeat away. He inched closer, and my body turned toward his with an untamable magnetic pull. Gods, just kiss me already.
My elbow jutted out, and a chain clinked, brushing a lever I hadn’t seen along the wall. Suddenly, gears groaned, and the lantern room coughed to life. A lens turned, bright as a new sun, and a shaft of light knifed out into the storm.
“Moon break me,” I hissed.
We both flinched.
“Tell me I didn’t—”
“You did.” He was already moving. He kicked the trap to the lantern room back in place to kill the worst of the glow, but the damage was done. Our clear outlines blared through the glass.
Just below, three horns blew, short and greedy.