Chapter 11 Kai
Kai
The moment I stepped over the threshold, my jaw locked, and my body coiled tight with restraint.
She had escaped, and my instincts told me she was here.
That tugging in my chest had given me no peace, nor had the image of her face in my mind.
Already, the rage and need to be near Hannah again was tight beneath my ribs.
The baying of the hounds as they neared Market Square dulled in my ears.
Most of the guards were searching there, which made sense if Hannah was trying to hide in plain sight.
’Most everyone was headed to Market Square to go into the shelters.
I’d ordered my captains to call the people back and calm the mob, but many would stay underground because they were on edge. Their misunderstanding was reasonable.
But that pull within me was far too clear and precise to ignore.
Olen stood near a wall with his hands loose at his sides.
His body angled slightly toward the hall, and he was too alert for a man insisting he was cold and tired.
In all the years I’d known him, he had never behaved in this manner.
I took him in without looking at him directly, my attention sliding to the floor once more.
His boot prints made little sense. The prints near the hearth had almost dried, but the ones near the hall had a pattern to them as if he had intentionally scuffed his feet.
Leather boots like ours dried slowly, but even so, there was little reason for that odd shuffling pattern…
unless he was covering for someone. And I knew who. I could feel the yank in my chest.
My shoulders tightened, and a muscle ticked along my jaw.
What reason did he have to cover for her? She’d barely been here more than a matter of minutes, and he knew well how I responded to slights against my authority.
My gaze drifted back to him and the angle of his stance.
The way his weight favored the hall, as if ready to block it.
Like he’d already debated how he would respond if I tried to pass.
The idea of another male placing himself between me and her twisted violently in my chest. My gloved hands fisted at my sides, the leather creaking as my fingers tightened.
She had been here, and he had stood close to her and looked upon her beauty and her fire. Then he’d decided, as anyone would, that she was worth keeping and protecting. I wanted to burn his eyes out with the logs from his own fire.
I squared my shoulders and straightened to my full height. Then I took one step forward, sliding my gaze to the hall once more.
He flinched ever so slightly, but it was enough.
I pushed past him, and my shoulder caught him hard enough to knock him into the wall. He sucked in a breath but didn’t protest as he looked from me back to the door and up. That alone told me everything.
The kitchen opened before me, dim and cold, the air sharp with dried herbs and old smoke.
A scarred table hunched at the center, its surface bare.
Bundles of thyme and bay hung from the beams, their shadows long and unmoving.
No fire burned in the stove, but it smelled of ash, herbs, and grain.
The trace of magnolia and apricots wasn’t present, but… she was here. I sensed it.
“Hannah of Tennessee, come out now.” My voice cut clean through the space.
There was no tremor or softness in it. I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t answer.
I’d met her only a few hours ago, but I knew she was stubborn.
Stubborn…and infuriating. Pride stirred alongside the anger, unwanted but undeniable, tightening the knot in my chest.
Of course my mate was a pain in the ass.
And a smart one too. Why wouldn’t she be?
Fate damn her! Once I got her back, I’d lock her away somewhere safe until I could sort out the best way forward, one that didn’t involve either of us going insane or me murdering her for being a distraction.
Fate help me, I just wanted this connection to be over. A fever burned within my veins.
The kitchen offered few sanctuaries for her to hide. My gaze swept it once, dismissing the open space immediately. A woman could not vanish into air, and there were only so many places a body could fit.
I went to the cabinets first.
I opened them one by one, my movements focused and deliberate as I pretended to be in control.
The cupboards held little of interest, and when I pressed my hand to their backs and knocked, only solid wood resounded.
I closed each door with care, the soft click of wood against frame echoing loudly in the cold room.
Olen hovered near the doorway. “Your Majesty—”
“Silence.” The table came next. I dropped to one knee, checked beneath the table where the shadows hid nothing from my sight.
That left one place.
The larder.
I crossed the kitchen in two silent steps and stopped with my hand on the latch as I listened.
The damn yank in my chest intensified to the point that I feared my chest would rip open.
She was close enough that I could feel it in my bones.
Close enough that the thought of her, hidden and silent, made something fierce and territorial coil tight in my chest.
“Hannah.” Her name was heavy and yet somehow sweet on my tongue. “This ends here.” If Olen hadn’t been here, I would have told her that I wouldn’t hurt her.
Because I wouldn’t. I needed her. Needed her back. Needed to know she was safe. I hated how much I needed this.
I opened the larder door.
Cold air spilled out, carrying scents of dust, dried meat, herbs, and grain, the darkness inside full but useless against my sight.
Deep shelves climbed the walls from floor to ceiling, most packed tight with sacks and crates, the upper levels sparse enough to draw my eyes upward at once.
My attention narrowed, instinct guiding it without conscious thought.
She would go high and away from the floor and from marks that could betray her.
A sack of grain was compressed near the top shelf. A crate sat just slightly out of line.
My pulse slowed, and I readied to follow the pull in my chest to locate her.
The horn sounded.
BAHROOOOM! BAHROOOOM! The first blast tore through the night like a wound being ripped open, followed by a second, longer call that vibrated through the stone beneath my boots.
An attack? Now?!
I jerked back from the larder as the air itself seemed to shift. I turned and broke into a run, shoving past Olen without apology.
He staggered and caught himself, and then I was out the front door. If we were under attack, then Hannah was in danger too. The wards might be enough to hold the attack off, but my gut clenched with caution. Something in the air tasted wrong.
Cold night air slammed into my face as I ran, my boots striking stone in long, distance-eating strides. Rage and tension radiated through me as I lifted my gaze skyward.
The sky had gone black.
Not clouded. Not storm-dark.
Pure, swallowing black, as if something vast had closed over the stars.
Fucking Bram! Now?
If I hadn’t wanted to rip his spine out through his armor before this, I did now.
The wards above the city flared to life, silver light blooming outward in an immense arc. Frost-bright patterns unfolded across the invisible barrier, the sigils interlocking with flawless precision, and the magic sang as it rose. All was working as it should. Yet, the air tasted sharp, bitter.
All of a sudden, the light faltered, and lines fractured. The pattern froze mid-formation.
My blood went cold.
“No,” I breathed, the word ripped from my chest.
The wards stopped forming.
The silver glow dulled and flickered uncertainly, sections incomplete, the magic straining and failing, as if something had severed its spine. Horror punched through me, followed by white-hot fury. We’d been sabotaged, and we were about to be breached.
Another horn sounded. This one announced the type of threat, sharper and shriller. KRAAAM! KRAAAM! BAHROOOOM!
Night wyverns.
Screams erupted on the streets. I tilted my head back in time to see eight forms emerge from the darkness. One of the fire-eyed beasts wheeled about and barreled right at me.