Chapter 21 #3
Unable to meet the heat of my stare, he lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry, Syl. That’s a command.” Then he stepped inside, the flap closing behind him, leaving me alone in the cold, tiny snowflakes flurrying around me.
Moments later, standing beside the campfire, I watched as the armory tent flap lifted in the wind and Jack stepped out.
My breath caught.
He wore his second armor, matte black leather fitted close to his tall, powerful, muscled frame, forged not for ceremony but for speed, for combat.
The pauldrons curved like wings over his shoulders, sleek and brutal; the embossed pattern across his chest and gauntlets catching the light of the fire.
Every line, every buckle, every piece had a purpose.
No excess, just ruthless grace. His silver hair had been swept back into several Skadgardian warrior half-braids flanking each side of his head, slender metal clasps glinting, securing the silky strands.
With his hair pulled back, his brow looked fierce, more commanding, the icy fire in his gaze made even more cutting without the soft curtain that usually framed it, now showcasing the thick gorgeous arcs of his eyebrows and his long silver lashes.
And those ears… Winter’s grace. Pointed and bare and no longer obscured by his usual messy frock, they looked even more elegantly sculpted. I itched to trace them with my fingers…or my tongue.
Gods help me.
Why did he have to look like that? Like a masterpiece hewn from the purest ice found on the highest mountain peak in all our realm. Cold and lethal, stunning and frightening all at the same time.
I hated how deeply the sight of him stirred me, hated the ache spreading like hoarfrost in my chest, because what I felt wasn’t just lust for the Prince of Skadgard, or love for my best friend.
It was terror. Terror that he’d never come back.
Terror that he could ride off into that cursed forest and I’d never see that arrogant scowl again.
That I’d never hear him call me elskan in that low, rumbling whisper that made my insides tremble.
I was furious with him for commanding me to stay, even if it was more as a steward than an attendant.
And that fury tangled with the agony of seeing him mount his horse, sword strapped across his back.
He looked like a shadow-forged blade, like a heralded warrior from our ancient past sung about in folk songs, and for a heartbeat I swore even the gently falling snow seemed to shrink from him in reverence.
Ravin emerged beside him, dressed more like a warrior himself than I’d ever seen. He still bore his usual swagger, but there was a deadly calm to him now. Gone was his cocky, lazy charm. Now, he moved like a soldier who knew the cost of blood.
Varik joined them, face like jagged stone.
Astrid rode in restrained anger behind him, her axe slung across her back, the metal shining with the promise of vengeance.
Torin brought up the rear, muttering to his horse, a hard edge in his eyes I’d never seen before.
One other rider, Vigmund, one of Varik’s newly promoted soldiers, rode silently and heavily armored beside him, his long black beard masking his features.
Four soldiers plus Ravin—that was all Jack was willing to risk. Even now, he thought of the camp’s defenses before his own.
His gaze searched the camp for something until his eyes landed on mine.
I saw the words he shaped with his lips, words I couldn’t hear over the wind, but I didn’t need to. His eyes said it all. Forgive me.
I turned away, jaw tight. It hurt too much. And the second he passed through the glassy crystal gate and into the darkness of the lake and forest, I regretted it.
The silence that came after the five of them had disappeared into the shadows was louder than any scream I could’ve belted, and I stood there for a long, torturous moment, the wind whispering through the frozen battlements like it too was already mourning his departure.
Hands clenched at my side, I felt my rage climb up my throat.
Fuck. This.
There was no way I would stay trapped behind this ice wall. I wasn’t a fragile ornament to be shelved away; I was a blade. And a blade was meant to be wielded, not hung up like decoration. Not to be stored behind a fortress wall while others shed blood in my stead.
If Jack thought I’d sit idle while he hunted ancient, cursed wraiths in that damn forest, he had another thing coming.
But I needed a plan. The guards at the gate had strict orders not to let anyone through. I’d have to slip past them…and I’d need help.
I turned on my heel and made for the medic tent.
Sascha and Ingrid sat huddled on their bedrolls, both still pale but awake. They looked up as I stepped inside, the flaps closing behind me with a sharp clap.
“I need your help,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Sascha’s back straightened, lips curving into a curious smile, her glinting irises an indication that her thoughts were already aligned with my plan. “You’ll need a distraction.”
Ingrid’s gaze flicked between us, confused but intrigued.
Relief and a touch of mischief danced on my lips. “I was hoping you’d say that.”