Chapter 21 #3
Kharos was standing at the ready when I returned, his massive body low and still, his tail flicking lazily against the sand. Packs were strapped across his back, secured tight with leather bands around his belly to hold the weight in place. Thanor was not.
I frowned at the sight of him standing apart from the others, striking a wooden training post again and again, each blow unforgiving, as though the post itself had wronged him. The wood shuddered under the force, splinters tearing loose with every impact.
If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he was angry—because of me, because of what had been done to my face. I swallowed the thought before it could take hold. It wouldn’t do to give in to that pull again. Not after what had happened yesterday.
Kharos lifted his head, agitation rolling through him as he watched his warrior, a low rumble building in his chest. He shifted between Thanor and me, uneasy, as if he sensed the imbalance and didn’t know which of us needed him more.
He chuffed softly as I approached, and I ran my hand along the thick fur at his neck in greeting, my touch light and familiar. He leaned into it with a low, approving huff, nudging my palm, anchoring himself.
Thanor stopped striking the pole as I drew closer, the motion cutting off abruptly.
His axes lowered to his sides, muscles still taut with effort he hadn’t yet spent.
Sweat tracked from his hairline, slipping down over his throat and chest, darkening the leather straps in its wake.
He dragged a hand over his face, loose strands escaping the tie that held half his dark hair back, and when his eyes lifted again, they lingered on my cheek—unreadable.
“Ready to leave?” I asked. I didn’t want to cross the boundary between us again. Didn’t want to misstep. The rules of the Ludaryn were clear enough, and my place within them wasn’t something I could afford to test. It would only complicate my escape.
His expression shifted, the last of the tension bleeding from his stance. Whatever had driven him moments before was gone, buried beneath discipline.
“You’re behaving exactly as I predicted.”
His words landed with unsettling precision, like a thumb pressed along the inside of my ribs, finding purchase. He stared at me, seeing far too much. “Withdrawing. Thinking distance will erase what happened.”
My piercing pulsed at the tone of his voice, flaring despite my restraint.
I hated how easily he reached me, how effortlessly he seemed to see through what I kept so carefully contained.
Elion’s warning surfaced at the back of my mind.
He’d told me that I would meet someone who would refuse my rules and set his own.
When I didn’t reply, he continued, his tone calm. “We’re leaving.” He fastened the axes at his belt. “You’ll walk with me. You’ll do your work. And you’ll stop denying what you want just because it frightens you that I see it.”
A faint breath left me. His eyes dipped—to my mouth, to my cheek—before lifting again. “You don’t get to dismiss this. Not when I’ve already seen you. Smelled you.”
I didn’t answer him at once. Instead, I glanced past him to the courtyard, where warriors gathered their weapons and Bondwards fell into place beside them. Everyone was preparing to leave. I stepped closer, enough to be heard, not enough to draw notice, and leaned in.
“Yesterday was a mistake,” I murmured. “One that won’t be repeated. I won’t jeopardize the position I have here, fragile as it is. One of the Bondwards was executed at dawn. I won’t be next, just because of some fling.”
He didn’t soften. “You’re thinking in terms of rules. That’s your mistake. The Ludaryn’s rules exist for the weak. They don’t apply to me.” His stare pinned me in place. “And they don’t apply to what is mine.”
My lips parted but no words came.
“If you chose differently,” he went on, “if you stopped standing half a step away from yourself and gave in to what you already feel, I would make certain you understood what safety truly means.” His hands tightened at his sides.
“No one would dare hurt you. Not here. Not anywhere I stand. Decide what you want.”
His words were exactly what I wanted to hear. Safety—I had been craving it. I had known it before, with Elion, and lost it, and now he was offering that same sense of protection again.
But this time, it would cost me. My independence.
The cage I was trying to escape would only tighten around me.
He would claim me, and after that there would be no slipping free of him.
Yesterday, I’d given in to what I wanted, and this place had answered swiftly, without mercy.
Would he truly be able to prevent that if I was bound to him?
The thought of giving myself to him fully unsettled me more than anything else. He was stripping me bare, forcing me to face choices I wasn’t ready to make, drawing out parts of me I had never meant to expose. I couldn’t stay much longer. Not like this.
If I did, I wouldn’t just lose my freedom. I would lose myself to him.
By the time the Moonbound Rite was finished tonight, I knew what I had to do.
I would give him the slip and run. Get Elion, then make a plan to get Talia out.
The courtyard gates opened ahead of us, and the road beyond stretched out in packed earth, still cool with morning dew. We moved out together at first, warriors and Bondwards spreading along the path, armor creaking, massive paws striking the ground in steady rhythm.
Jorius walked at the front, with Rhenik and Ilyth beside him. Fresh bruises still marked the exposed skin of Rhenik’s back, remnants of his fight with Sevrak.
Jorius glanced back over his shoulder and offered me an encouraging smile, which I returned with a brief lift of my hand.
His blond hair had been hastily tied into a low knot, a rare concession that hinted even he was still feeling the effects of last night’s wine.
His smile didn’t last. He glanced past me, his brow tightening. I turned instinctively.
Thanor was watching him. His expression gave nothing away, yet I felt it beside me, the tension in him drawing tight, contained but impossible to miss. Jorius held his gaze for a moment, something shifting between them, before he turned forward again, his posture stiff as he walked on.
I exhaled slowly. Whatever had passed between them, I didn’t want to be the reason for it. Jorius was… Jorius. Steady. Familiar. Safe. I needed him to remain that way. Nothing more.
And Thanor… whatever this was, whatever he thought he could claim, I wouldn’t let it become something I couldn’t control. Even if part of me didn’t pull away as quickly as it should.
I searched for Talia among the others and spotted her near the rear, but the tall warriors and their massive sabers shifted, swallowing her from view as they spread along the path. Then I found Sevrak. He was already looking at me, a predatory grin curling across his face. I whirled around.
What little I’d seen of Talia did nothing to comfort me.
Her skin was ashen, dark circles shadowing her eyes.
I slowed, trying to fall back toward her, but Thanor’s hand settled at my lower back, urging me forward.
The warmth of his palm seeped through me as I glanced up and caught the possessive glint in his eyes.
I scowled at him even as something in that look tugged at me, and quickened my stride.
The group dispersed and the Ludaryn forest rose in the distance, its colors unmistakable even from afar.
Purple leaves shimmered across the canopy, and pale mushrooms clustered at the edges like scattered embers.
It reminded me of the Lornwild—not as vast or ancient, but shaped by the same magic, familiar enough to ache.
The path narrowed quickly. Growth pressed in from all sides and the voices of the others faded. Footsteps diverged. The lushness of it did the work for us, drawing lines of separation until the others blurred into the background.
Before long, only Thanor and Kharos remained ahead of me.
They moved through the trees with unbroken purpose, and I followed, my steps settling into their rhythm as the forest closed around us, the way forward clear and the way back already lost. Thanor didn’t look back, didn’t check whether I followed.
The forest held multiple shrines, one for each pair to perform the ritual. One had been assigned to us, though the path toward it was unfamiliar to me. There were no fireflies to guide me here.
I hurried along until I matched his stride, close enough that my shoulder nearly grazed his chest before I shifted a fraction farther away, careful not to crowd him. The silence stretched between us, awkward.
It struck me then that I’d never had a normal conversation with him—only his threats, and my refusals.
I knew nothing about him. The realization nagged at me, pulling at my curiosity until it outweighed my hesitation.
I had nothing to lose anymore. I’d escape tonight, so it didn’t matter what was said between us.
Before I could reconsider, I gathered my courage and broke the quiet.
“I need to gather noctyra blossoms,” I said at last, keeping my voice even despite the awareness humming beneath my skin. “And silverbind fungus.” I hesitated before adding, “I’ve never been here myself, but Cassius’s notes place them in the northern part of the forest.”
He slowed enough to acknowledge me, his attention shifting without turning his head.
“We’ll go toward the eastern slope,” he said, his tone calm.
“The others will head north toward the mountains, but that would take us too far from the shrine. I know a better place, near the lake. The soil there holds its moisture longer.”
His answer felt like a small victory, a tentative first step toward shifting whatever this was between us closer to ease. His voice was… different without the edge of threat or temptation, and I found myself wanting to hear more of it.