Chapter 49 A House of Secrets
A HOUSE OF SECRETS
“Thank yu for the coins, dir brother. I saved them carefuly and even skiped a few meels, so I could buy us somethin nice one day when yu com hom. I mis yu every day.”
—Linnéa’s first letter to Gregor
Gregor
“Iswear to tell the truth! I swear on my mother! If I lie, let her be dead!”
We’re sitting in my new house, a house I shouldn’t have. I overheard Noel and Theron arguing during the feast. Theron wanted me locked in that cage, while Noel insisted I deserved a place of my own. She won the argument.
Now I’m here, in an actual house in ávera. It’s far bigger than my room back in the barracks, where twenty men shared one cramped space, bunk beds stacked like a child’s puzzle. Here, I have walls to myself, a roof that doesn’t leak, and silence that feels as foreign as the vólkin.
Not that I’ve had time to explore. The moment we arrived, Noel and Theron ushered me into the living area to question me.
Now I sit on a wooden chair, my posture stiff.
Noel, her expression warm, sits across from me.
Theron doesn’t bother to sit. He stands nearby, his eyes locked on me like the predator that he is.
“It’s alright, Gregor,” Noel says, her voice as warm as her smile. “I believe every word you say. We’re not here to work against you. We’re here to listen and do what’s right.”
She’s so nice to me, so much kinder than I ever imagined.
I never thought Noel could be like this.
On the training grounds or in the dining hall, she always looked carved from stone, her face unmoving, expressionless.
Now, though, she’s like a different person.
Has been so kind to me since I arrived. “Thank you,” I reply, forcing a small smile of my own.
“You said these people called themselves the Shadow Guild, right?” Noel continues. “Do you think they’re connected to the tsar?”
“Yes,” I start, but Theron cuts in before I can continue.
“Why?” His voice is low.
I swallow hard. “When I was in their basement—it was underground, I think, since there were no windows—I saw tapestries with the same blue rose emblems you see in every commander’s office.”
“So they serve the tsar,” Noel murmurs. Her eyes sweeping over me make me sit straighter, and the chair creaks beneath me.
“What did they do to you while you were there?” she asks. “Aside from torturing you?”
“And why were you beaten?” Theron follows. “Because you didn’t cooperate?”
“I mostly sat with my eyes covered. They moved me from one place to another, blindfolded. Sometimes they’d ask me questions, especially when they saw how weak I’d become.
” A shiver runs down my spine, and goose bumps rise on my arms. I hate thinking about it—about the humiliation, the pain—but I force myself to continue.
“They beat me to remind me that I was nothing. Every time I refused to answer, they’d shove a cloth in my mouth and keep hitting me.
” My fists clench at the memory, the phantom ache of every blow tightening in my chest. “I was so scared . . .” My voice falters, and my eyes start to sting.
And that cursed crystal—still inside me—feels like it’s mocking me.
“What questions did they ask you?” Theron asks.
“Theron! Can’t you give him a minute?” Noel stands abruptly and glares up at him. Her eyes blaze with anger.
Theron grunts in response, looking away.
Noel exhales and turns back to me, sitting down with a gentleness that calms the air around her. “Please don’t mind him,” she says. “He’s just . . . very concerned for all of us.”
I nod slowly, my throat dry. “They asked me if Noel—” I catch myself, panic flashing through me. “I mean, Her Majesty,” I correct quickly, before Theron can tear my head off.
His eyes narrow, but he says nothing.
“They wanted to know if you had crystals on your forehead.”
I glance between them, gauging their reactions.
Bard taught me what that meant—how a woman spiritually awakens when bonded with a vólkin.
The crystals that form on her forehead are a reflection of their shared element, always matching the bond.
In Noel and Theron’s case, it’s the blue rose.
That’s why Theron’s crystals glow blue. The room grows quiet.
Every pause feels like walking on a sword’s edge.
“Since they’re the tsar’s men, it’s no surprise they know about it,” Noel finally says.
“This also means they know we’ll perform the bonding ritual at the full moon,” Theron adds, leaning against the table beside him.
“You don’t understand!” The words burst out of me before I can stop them.
Noel’s eyes widen at my sudden outburst, but I continue, my voice rising in pitch.
“They’re everywhere! They have shadows in every village!
I saw one of them returning in disguise, dressed as a blacksmith!
” My words spill out in a frantic rush, my fingers gripping my knees so hard it hurts. “They had me discharged from the army!”
“What?” Noel breathes, leaning forward, her wide eyes growing even larger. “How?”
“They brought me to the healer in Tárnov.” My voice shakes as I explain.
“At our base. He declared me unfit to serve. It was all arranged so no one would question my disappearance.” I inhale slowly, trying to steady myself.
“They hold so much power . . . I was so scared . . .” Tears streak down my face as I murmur those last words.
The fear was real. It clung to me every day, every sleepless night.
And it wasn’t only for me. It was for Linnéa too.
Bard had told me how she was holding up.
For months, I hadn’t been able to send her money. My own foolishness burned through it when I started sneaking out of the barracks to the shadowy underside of the market.
The whores had their charms, luring men for prices that seemed reasonable—at least until you realized the madam pocketed every coin.
The gambling houses, connected to one brotherhood or another, were even worse.
If you couldn’t pay, their enforcer would come, and suddenly you’d find yourself enslaved to their debts.
Those places were dark, dangerous, and of course, I was always stupid enough to go back. Month by month, I lost everything. I had nothing left to send her.
Poor Linnéa.
Bard said she was fine with them, that she had her own room at one of their bases. She’d be safe, he promised, so long as I didn’t make a mistake, but his reassurance did little to ease my guilt.
“What else have you told them?” Theron demands. “It seems like there’s more to your story than you initially claimed. ‘I haven’t told them anything’ doesn’t quite mean nothing, does it, Gregor?”
Oh shit. My heart pounds so hard it feels like it might burst from my chest. Cold sweat beads on my forehead, and my breath comes shallow and quick. Did I already screw this up? It hasn’t even been a full day.
“No . . . No . . .” I stammer. “Try to understand!”
“Understand what?” Theron leans in close, grasping my jaw in his clawed hand. His strength is terrifying. I can feel the power in his grip, controlled but on the verge of something far worse.
Oh gods. Oh gods.
“I . . . I . . .”
“You. What?” Theron growls, his teeth bared, his face inches from mine.
“That’s enough, Theron!” Noel’s voice snaps through the room, and she pulls him away from me.
Oh thank the gods. Mama, I’ll never swear on you again. I promise.
“He is lying!” Theron’s voice is thunderous. “Don’t you see that?”
“He is NOT lying, Theron! You’ve never been scared in your life. You don’t know what it’s like to stand before creatures twice your size, to feel so small, so helpless, knowing your life could be snuffed out at any moment.” She slams her hand on the table.
The sound cracks through the silence, and I flinch, my body taut with nerves. Noel. Standing up for me like this.
“Do you think his mind was stable when he arrived here? When the vólkins treated him like nothing more than a piece of horse shit?” Her voice is a cold command when she says, “Get out of here.”
What? How? She just . . . ?
Theron snarls, the sound reverberating through the house before he storms out and slams the door behind him.
I swallow hard. Did that really just happen?
Noel sighs, shaking her head as if she’s used to this kind of display. Without a word, she walks to the kitchen area. She pours water into a small cup, then another.
I hesitate before following her. “Is . . . is everything alright?”
“Don’t worry about him,” she says, handing me one of the cups. “Vólkin pride is something else entirely, but I won’t let him treat you like that.”
I drink, and the cool water soothes my dry throat.
Up close, Noel seems so much smaller than I expected.
I’d only ever seen her from a distance during my time in the army, always carrying herself with an air of authority.
Seeing her like this, soft and approachable, stirs something in me. She is, after all, a woman.
She takes my hand suddenly, her fingers warm against mine. Her smile is gentle. “Trust me, Gregor, I’ll stand up for you every time.”
Her words catch me off guard, and I can’t help but smile back. I brush my thumb over her knuckles. “Thank you.”
Noel leads me to a bed-like pile of furs in the corner of the room. My chest tightens with nerves as she sits and gestures for me to join her. I didn’t expect this—being on a bed with a woman as beautiful as her.
“Tell me what you wanted to say,” she says, her voice caring and kind. It melts away some of my nerves. “Theron isn’t here to interrupt us now.”
“The Shadow Guild. The man who was in charge of me . . . It was like he was more than human.”
Her brows knit together. “What do you mean?”
“His name was Bard,” I say, pausing to find the right words.
“And Bard was . . . strange. In ways I don’t even know how to explain.
He could hear me whispering from the other side of the base.
He could smell what I’d eaten before even seeing me.
” I scratch the back of my head. “He reminded me of a vólkin.”
Noel’s eyes widen, and her whole posture changes.
“He had heightened senses,” I continue, lowering my voice as if someone might overhear.
“Like a wolf. Sensing scents, hearing sounds no one else could. I was too scared to ask him about it, but there was something unnatural about him. Almost like he had human skin, but . . . something else underneath.” The room is so quiet, I swear I can hear her heartbeat.
After everything I’ve learned about vólkins, magic, and a world I never knew existed, I’m not surprised anymore. But judging by Noel’s expression, she is.
“There’s one more thing,” I say. “Bard said it would be logical for you to perform the bonding ritual on a full moon. He explained what it means. So, I know . . . I know that much.”
I take a deep breath. Time to say it. I can do this.
“He’s planning an ambush. An army to strike when you leave ávera.
That’s why I told you he has eyes and ears everywhere.
Bard isn’t just anyone, he’s one of the tsar’s most trusted shadows.
They know you won’t stay hidden here forever.
They know you’ll want to attack. They’re preparing for it.
All the warriors are ready.” This time, I’m the one to take her hand.
“So, Noel,” I say, looking directly into her eyes, “you need to be prepared. The tsar’s army is strong. You know that better than I do.”
Noel’s expression relaxes, her features melting into something affectionate and gentle. “Thank you for telling me, Gregor. You just saved a thousand lives.” She lifts her hand, and her touch is tender when her fingers brush against my cheek.
I’m doing the right thing, I tell myself, the words echoing in my mind as I nod slowly, eyes closed, her hand still warm against my face.
Noel bids me good night, and as she opens the door, I catch sight of Or?on outside, his imposing figure silhouetted against the night.
Well.
I have a home in ávera.
Clasping my hands, I raise my arms over my head and feel the sting in my muscles as they protest the stretch. Exhaustion weighs on me. It’s been the longest day of my life. But before I let sleep take me, there’s one more thing I need to do.
I head to the kitchen where I scan the small cabinet attached to the wooden wall. Essin mentioned earlier that the house was stocked with everything I’d need to cook for myself. If that’s true, there might be salt somewhere.
Salt is a rare and precious ingredient, but in the army, when we were celebrating the tsar’s birthday, we would get some meals with salt. It was a luxury all the soldiers waited for every year. The meat from the feast earlier had salt, so I figure there must be some here too.
Opening the first cabinet, I find a crooked wooden bowl filled with a few vegetables, another holding apples. Simple, but enough. In the next cabinet, there are cups neatly stacked, and there, the spices.
I pull out a sealed jar and open it, inhaling its contents. Dried thyme. Another jar holds dried sage, and the next, dried bay leaves. My lips twitch into a small smile as memories of my mother’s soups come flooding back. She always used bay leaves to add flavor.
I put the jar back, my hand brushing past the others until I spot what I’m looking for. Salt.
I bring the small container with me over to the lower cabinet near the wall. My rosemary is tucked safely inside, exactly where I left it.
With the salt and a stalk of rosemary from the bundle, I head to the dimly lit bathroom. After setting the ingredients carefully on the sink, I undo my trousers with a sigh and toss them onto the floor.
Finally. It’s time to get this thing out of me.
Crouching, I brace myself, one hand gripping the edge of the sink for balance. My other hand trembles as it moves toward the crystal lodged inside me. Gods, this is humiliating.
Tears sting my eyes, blurring my vision, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. With a sharp exhale, I remove the crystal.
It feels heavier than I expected, or maybe that’s my exhaustion and shame reminding me who I am and what I’m doing. My chest heaves as I clean the crystal in the water, watching as the traces of blood swirl away to leave the surface clean once more.
The tears fall freely now, but I don’t wipe them away. Instead, I grab the salt and rosemary.
Time for the ritual.
Bard needs to know I’ve succeeded.
I stare at the crystal, its surface catching the faint moonlight shining through the small bathroom window.
After everything I said today, I wonder what Noel and Theron think was a lie and what was not.