Chapter 20
Soren woke with a jolt the next morning. She couldn’t remember any details of her dream for the first time in many seasons; instead, she just felt panicked.
It was still dark out, the princess asleep next to her, and she dressed quickly before hurrying to the field. Thessa stirred as she approached, opening her enormous maw in what appeared to be a yawn.
He is not back yet.
Soren blew out a breath, trying to calm her racing pulse. Back from where?
Thessa feigned sleep after that, and Soren resisted the urge to slap her scales. Instead, she paced back and forth, her mind running over every possible scenario or explanation.
Vane had to be someone’s descendant. An ancestor of his must have lived when the gods had, loved one of the immortal beings. And as for Vane’s odd behavior now…
She could not find a reason. He was cold enough to her most of the time, but she was beginning to see it was mostly just a part of that mask he tried so hard to keep in place.
Every time they got close for a moment, he became distant again, as if he was trying to hide whatever he felt.
And as for her feelings, she could admit now that they felt oddly strong for knowing him for so little time.
It was likely just the influence of the dreams.
“Soren.”
She whirled, finding Vane a few paces away. His arms were crossed over his chest, and gods, he looked so exhausted. Whatever the king was having him do was wearing him thin.
“Where were you? Or am I not allowed to know that?”
He took an audibly shaky breath and took a step forward, but his foot caught on the grass, and he faltered.
She rushed forward as he all but collapsed onto the dew covered ground.
Panic surged, and before she could think about what she was doing, she cupped his cheeks and demanded, “What’s wrong with you? ”
He froze, his dark gaze flicking to hers. Then, slowly, he lifted a hand and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not. Are you injured?”
He took a shallow breath. “I thought we weren’t friends.”
“We aren’t,” she whispered. “But I…”
His gloved finger slid along her skin. “You what, Soren?”
“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
She said the words in barely a whisper, and his eyes fluttered shut, his forehead falling against hers. Her breath shuddered in and out, and he nodded against her.
“I don’t sleep much,” he murmured. “Makes healing injuries a bit difficult sometimes.”
The sun was cresting over the horizon, the field bathed in golden light.
He opened his eyes, and she found they were a liquid hazel in the early morning sun.
They were so close, and the feeling was frightening.
She had not been this close to someone in a long time, and with Vane especially, it incurred confusing thoughts and emotions.
“Where are you hurt?” she asked.
His nose was brushing hers, the tip of it cold and his eyes were half-lidded. “It’s nothing. Just a flesh wound.”
“Let me see.”
“So stubborn, Soren.”
She couldn’t stop the shiver that raced up her spine as he said her name like that, soft and rough around the edges at the same time. His hand still rested on her forearm, and she was still touching his face. The moment felt fragile, fledgling in the clouded breath of early morning.
“Please,” she whispered. “Maybe I can help.”
He sighed and pulled back. She didn’t want to admit that, for a split second, she chased him as he moved away, not wanting to lose his presence this near to her. It was impossible and nonsensical, but Vane was beginning to feel safe, like a home she had long ago lost.
He was still close, kneeling on the grass. As he untied the leather armor and pulled up his shirt, she was suddenly overwhelmed by a number of things.
He was covered in scars as well as barely healed bruises—a shallow but long slice cut from his ribs to low on his stomach, the ‘flesh wound’ he must have been talking of. She was ashamed to admit to the sudden rush of looping heat in her belly at the sight of the small strip of his exposed skin.
Shoving aside the distracting rush of lust, she drew closer and examined the wound, running her fingers along the side of it. The defined muscles of his abdomen flexed under her touch, and his hand curled in the grass beside him.
“Does that hurt?”
His throat bobbed. “No.”
“Has it been cleaned?”
“Not thoroughly, no. I didn’t have time.”
She pulled her hand back and stood. “Where is your tent? It will get infected if you don’t take care of it.”
He stared at her, still on his knees. “You don’t need to do this.”
It was hard to look at him. He carried so much pain, even if she did not know what it was, and now, he was barely keeping a damper on it. The mask was falling.
“I do. You can’t train me if you’re dead from a blood infection.”
Finally, he relented, and with a sharp sigh, he stood, dragging her back towards camp. Thessa huffed behind them.
What?
Treat his wounds carefully.
I was planning on it, though it isn’t that bad.
The dragon paused. I think you know well enough now that not all his wounds are visible.
The dragon fell quiet after that. The camp was still sleepy, most of the soldiers in their tents as Vane pulled her through it.
He stopped in front of a tent a little bigger than her and Cion’s, dropping her hand.
She took a deep breath as he ducked inside before following him, but she froze in the entrance as he tossed his armor to the side.
He didn’t fully remove his shirt, though, thank the gods.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him, but perhaps she wanted it too much.
He sat down on a small, roughly hewn wooden stool in the center of the tent. “There’s a basin of water and a bottle of clear liquor over there.”
He inclined his head to the left. Slowly, she walked to the materials. The bottle of liquor was half-gone, and she wondered if it had been used for previous wounds or if he’d drunk it. Somehow, she doubted he indulged much.
She wet a small cloth with water then pressed the head of the bottle to it, soaking it with some of the alcohol.
When she approached Vane, he looked half-asleep again.
But as soon as she said his name, he stiffened and opened his eyes before lifting his shirt again.
She knelt in front of him and pressed the cloth to his skin.
He barely flinched as she cleaned the wound. Instead, his gaze was heavy on her as she gently skirted her fingers over his skin.
She didn’t look at him, instead focusing on cleaning as she asked, “Does it help?”
“Does what help?”
She pressed the cloth to the center of the wound. “Having me do this? You seem distracted at the very least.”
His abdomen tensed under her hands, and she peered up at him. He hadn’t looked away from her, but his features had clouded slightly. Silence stretched between them, and she lowered her gaze.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t assume. Besides, it’s an overstep on my part—” But the rest of the words fell away as he brushed her chin with his calloused fingertips.
“It does help.”
She swallowed. “Good, then. Any other injuries I can help with?”
One of her hands was still on his stomach, and she didn’t want to move it. He was so warm and solid—perhaps the first stable thing in her life in many years.
“No,” he said after a moment.
She shoved away her disappointment and stood, turning swiftly.
But he caught her wrist before she could go far, tugging her back.
She stumbled, pressing her palm to one of his broad thighs to keep from toppling the ground.
They were both breathing heavily as she went still, meeting his gaze.
There was a catch of silvery light in the dark depths of his eyes.
“I wish…” he began, voice uneven. But then he took a deep breath and shut his mouth.
There was so much anguish in his eyes, it was disarming. She wanted to do something for him to ease it but didn’t know what. How did you save someone who was drowning in sorrow?
In the end, she simply leaned in and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him tight against her, her head resting on his shoulder.
It took a moment, but his broad hands eventually slid up her back, holding her too.
He tucked his face in the curve of her neck and shoulder.
When she threaded her hand through his hair, gently stroking the soft strands, he shuddered.
Slowly, the sounds of soldiers waking and leaving their tents filtered in, but they remained holding each other. She prayed to gods she did not believe in that her touch provided Vane some semblance of comfort.
When the passing of time became too heavy to ignore and the sounds of shouting and rustling about outside grew louder, she finally started to pull back. When she saw Vane’s face, a stone dropped in her belly.
His cheeks were damp with tears.
“Vane?” she whispered, slowly lifting a hand and brushing her fingers against his face.
He leaned into her touch for a moment before he said, “Don’t worry yourself with it, Soren. But…thank you.”
But there was something wrong.
Inside her…
A pain that mirrored his.
His brow creased, and she wondered if he saw it on her face. He seemed on the verge of saying something, but he remained silent. Her breath shook, and she pressed the heel of her palm to her chest.
He followed the movement, and his jaw tightened. “We should get you started with training for the day. We don’t have much more time.”
She gave a single nod. “I know.”
Her hand was still against her chest, as if the answer could be found in the alien pain she felt there.
Vane stood and brushed past her, re-securing his armor. She finally lowered her hand, and they slipped out of the tent. Her breath clouded in the air, the cold shocking her out of the haze that had settled over them. But the feeling…the unyielding pain…
It remained.
The next morning, they were interrupted just as she was finishing up her strengthening circuit.
“Evva!”
Soren jumped at the sound of the commander’s harsh voice. She twisted to see him striding across the field. Thessa, who had been laying not far from her, rumbled, the sound low and aggressive.
Commander Eton glanced at the dragon warily before he said to Vane, who was now on his feet, “You’re needed. Mise, you’ll train by yourself for the next two days.”
“She isn’t ready,” Vane argued, holding the commander’s hard gaze. “Taking away two days of training right now isn’t wise, not when we have so little time.”
“Do I look like I care?” the commander snarked. “You’re needed.”
“You wanted me to make sure she was ready to fly to Alesia in less than a moon cycle,” Vane said, stepping closer to the commander. “We need more time.”
Soren’s stomach dipped. Alesia was a small town in Mise, right on the border. If they wanted her to fight there, it meant Aren was pushing the front ahead, and she was going to help them do it.
The commander’s flat expression held. “It’s an order from the king. Go, Evva. Now.”
Vane tightened his jaw and gave a short nod, Soren staring at him in disbelief.
He was right—she was nowhere near ready, and he was just going to leave her now?
Logically, she knew he couldn’t disobey an order directly from King Johannas, but she didn’t understand why the order had been given in the first place.
It negated the point of Vane training her personally, if he was going to be constantly pulled away for other duties.
“Keep up with your strength circuit and laps,” Vane told her, leaning in. “And practice the same maneuvers with Thessilnn. She’ll remember if you don’t.”
“I’m supposed to leave in less than a week,” she hissed, her gaze flicking to Commander Eton, who was watching their interaction closely.
Vane grimaced. “I know. I should be back before you go… I’m sorry.”
And with that, he turned and strode away.
Once he was gone, Commander Eton snorted. “I suppose I should congratulate you on your quick work.”
Soren narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”
The commander raised a brow. “I think you do. I commend you. Snaring a captain, especially one like him, isn’t easy.”
She bristled, taking a step back. “He’s not a captain.”
“And how would you know that? Has he ever revealed his rank to you? Do you think just because he wants to fuck you now, you know anything about him?”
She felt sick. Commander Eton was absolutely right, but she wasn’t going to admit that to him, not when he obviously wanted to disarm her. Instead, she raised her chin. “I should continue with my training as requested, commander.”
His lip curled. “So the wolf finally sheds her sheep skin. I knew you were dangerous from the moment I saw you.”
“Why?” she said softly. “Because of what I can do or the system I challenge by simply holding any amount of power?”
The commander’s left eye twitched, but he ignored her words, barking, “Back to your training, soldier.”
He left, and she turned to Thessa. Shall we?
Ignore the commander. He only has as much power as you give him. But yes, we should begin.
Soren mulled over the dragon’s words as they practiced dismounts and dives until her body felt like it was one bruise away from breaking apart completely.
The next morning, she completed the circuit alone then ran, ignoring the pain and exhaustion. She slipped some bread and dried meat before anyone arrived for midday meal, ate, then jogged back to the field where Thessa waited.
The next two and half days were similar, and for two nights, she had no dreams of the goddess. She chalked it up to being so exhausted each night when she laid down.
The break didn’t last long, though. They never did.