Chapter 22 A Restless Mind
A RESTLESS MIND
“The world coils in pain, and no one listens. We come to you barefoot, not crowned. If you choose to rise, your howl will echo beyond the skies. Not as beast. Not as woman. But as memory made flesh. You will not be born. You will be remembered. Say yes, and we will shape you from the storm itself. Say yes, and you will become what the balance forgot. Say yes, and become vólkin.”
—The Circle of the Unmated
Noel
Isit on the massive fur bed, large enough to fit at least two vólkins like Theron, weaving small blue ribbons together. It’s been a while since I crafted something like this. The last time was the spear I made for protection, but before that . . .
Maybe it was when I made trinkets with my mother.
I nod to myself, taking another ribbon from the wooden container I set beside me.
Earlier, as I explored, I came across a room with a small stream flowing through it.
The air in there was cooler than the rest of the house, and the scent of herbs and earth filled my nose the moment I stepped inside.
Smooth stones lined the edges of the stream, and large leaves formed natural basins.
There was a hollowed-out log that looked like a sink with a smaller stream of water constantly replenishing it. Beside it, I found a box filled with blue ribbons.
These ribbons seem like they’re made for humans, unless Theron secretly ties his fur into tiny ponytails. I smile to myself as I finish weaving the blue strands together.
Standing up, I secure the furs around me once more—just in case—and head to the door.
Taking a deep breath, I open it to find the same two vólkins standing guard by the porch.
The moment they see me, they snap to attention, bowing in unison. Once they straighten again, they look at me quietly, but I can feel their unease.
“I wanted to apologize for my tone earlier,” I say, switching my gaze from one guard to the other, my fists clasped behind my back.
One of the vólkins furrows his brows, and their shoulders stiffen.
“Your Majesty,” the first begins. He swallows hard, and I can see his jaw clenching.
“We’re the ones who should apologize,” the other says, his voice quiet. His tone makes me feel even guiltier than before.
“Your word is beyond anyone’s, beyond Theron’s or Elder A?na’s. We shouldn’t have hesitated.”
“No. How can you follow me blindly?” My voice is calm but firm. “If I were in your place, I’d want the so-called ethereal leader to prove themselves first.” I lift my chin higher. “I took your kindness for granted, and my bad mood wasn’t your fault.”
I pull my fists from behind my back and extend them toward the two vólkins. “Here,” I say with a small smile. “A token of my apology, a braid for each of you.”
Their eyes widen simultaneously, and after a short pause, they reach out. Slowly, each takes a ribbon braid from my hands, careful not to damage the tiny strands with their claws.
“You were kind to me, and I wanted to repay that kindness,” I say, my smile lingering on my lips.
They look at the braids in their claws, and their gazes soften as their postures become less rigid, their guardedness easing.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” one of them says.
“We do not deserve such kindness,” the other adds.
I offer them another smile and turn to head back inside, wishing them both a good night.
Closing the door behind me, I look at the ribbon container. Should I make one for Theron as well?
A braid from his own ribbons compared to the house he grew for me . . . I’ll just embarrass myself.
Settling into the bed, I let out a long breath, the weight of the day sinking into my body.
The softness of the furs beneath me feels inviting, almost too much, but I don’t resist. Instead, I pull another fur blanket over me, tucking it close as though it could shield me from everything that runs through my mind.
Curling into myself, I let my body relax, my knees drawing toward my chest as I rest my cheek against the plush bed. It’s strange, this comfort feels foreign. And yet, here, surrounded by Theron’s care and Elder A?na’s wisdom, I feel a sliver of it breaking through.
Body, mind, soul.
The braid she wove into my hair feels heavier, as though carrying the weight of her lesson. She saw something in me I’m not sure I can see in myself, but her faith in me was so real. I hold on to that.
As I shift under the layers of furs, I glance at the empty space beside me. The house feels so large, so quiet without him here. My fingers curl into the edge of the blanket. He said this was his home . . . and mine. But if it’s his, why hasn’t he come back yet?
I try to push the thought away, to convince myself it doesn’t matter. He’s out there somewhere, probably fussing like Elder A?na said. Or maybe tending to something important. I shouldn’t expect him to return.
I’m tired—too tired to wrestle with these feelings—so I focus on my breathing, letting it lull me into sleep.
I did the right thing tonight. I think. I hope. Elder A?na’s approval felt like the first step forward. And maybe . . . maybe I can learn to take the next step too.
My breaths slow, and I let myself sink into the warmth of the furs, the softness wrapping around me like a cocoon. It feels like the house is sheltering me, as though it knows I need this.
The darkness is choking me. I gasp for air.
No. No. No.
It comes in flashes: Theron’s claws slashing into Arnold, the snarl ripping from his throat, the sound of flesh tearing. Blood pooling, dripping into the earth. Arnold’s scream echoes, loud and raw, fading into nothingness as Theron delivers the final blow.
I can’t move. My legs are frozen, my voice locked in my throat. All I can do is watch as the life drains from Arnold’s wide, terrified eyes.
“Theron!” I scream, but no sound escapes my lips. He doesn’t stop. He’s unstoppable, his massive body coated in crimson, his eyes cold and detached. He’s not the Theron I know—he’s something else entirely.
A monster.
Then his head snaps toward me, his gaze locking onto mine, fur matted with blood, teeth bared in a snarl.
I take a step back, tripping over the roots of the forest I don’t see, and he lunges toward me. His massive claws reach out—
My body jolts upright, and I wake with a desperate need for air. Each erratic beat of my heart slams against my ribs. It hurts.
My chest heaves as I clutch the fur blanket to me, feeling its dampness from the sweat clinging to my skin. Goddesses. It was a nightmare.
Willing myself to breathe, I press a shaking hand to my chest and fight to remember where I am. I’m in ávera. In the house Theron grew for me. Not in the forest. Not with Arnold.
The handkerchief!
I immediately reach under the bed-nest. It is there. Oh, thank the goddesses.
The room is dim, the glow of the stones on the walls soft, as if they too are waking with me.
My fingers tremble as I run them through my hair, damp with sweat.
My skin feels clammy, the air around me too cold despite the furs I’m wrapped in.
I look to the side, noticing the cloak-like blanket Theron made me from his fur lying nearby. I shiver.
Eyes closed, I suck in deep breaths to calm the storm inside me. It’s over. Arnold is gone. I’m safe. But the safety feels fragile, like it could shatter at any time.
Knock, knock.
The sound startles me, and my eyes snap open. It takes me a moment to register that it’s the door.
“Your Majesty?” A female voice.
Knock, knock.
“Is everything alright? I’m coming in.”
I exhale, running my fingers from my face to my scalp. “Yes, come in,” I say, my voice barely carrying. “Come i—”
The door opens, and Mina steps inside.
Right. They can hear everything. I straighten my back instinctively, and the furs tumble from my shoulders onto the bed.
The cool air brushes over my bare chest, and heat rushes to my cheeks.
Panic sets in as I pull the furs back over myself.
“My apologies, Mina,” I blurt out, my voice quicker than my thoughts.
She rises from her mid-bow, her expression calm, as though unbothered by my naked body. “You seem distressed,” she says.
I clutch the furs tighter around me. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Everything is just . . . a lot.”
Mina’s gaze shifts to the table across the room. She strides over and picks up a large wooden bowl resting there. “Theron left you breakfast,” she says, her face lighting up as she turns back and offers it to me.
Breakfast? Was he here?
My brows knit together as I take the bowl from her, the warmth of it seeping into my palms. If it’s still warm, that means he left it not long ago.
“Thank you,” I say as I set the bowl on my thighs. There’s cooked meat and strawberries. I haven’t seen strawberry bushes here. Do they have gardens?
“How do you like to start your mornings, Your Majesty?” Mina asks as she picks up my gown from one of the cushions near the bed.
“Oh, that gown is dirty. Let me—”
“It is clean, though.”
What? I didn’t clean it. I set the bowl on the furs and stand up. Looking at my gown in Mina’s paws . . . It is clean.
Mina looks at me, tilting her head.
“Tell me, Mina,” I begin, picking the bowl up again. “Are there strawberry bushes in ávera?”
“There are not.”
I hum. “Did you clean my gown before I woke up?”
“I did not.”
Another hum escapes me. Holding the furs tightly against my skin, I walk through the house, scanning for anything else he might have done.
I pause near the door. “Do you know if any of the guards entered this house?”
Mina shakes her head. “Unless it is an emergency, they’re not allowed to disturb your rest.”
A sigh escapes me as I walk back to her. “Theron did it, didn’t he?”
Mina’s gaze softens, and she nods. “It is a great honor for a vólkin to care for his mate.”
I sit on the nearest wooden chair, the bowl warm in my hands. The strawberries don’t touch the chunks of cooked meat, each piece resting perfectly in place as though he arranged them on purpose. Well . . . he did.