Chapter Seventeen
Castor Aegaeon
One positive outcome of our escapade was a warmer climate during the evenings.
It was a pleasant change from the chill of the approaching winter months in Silver Meadows. The snow never stayed for long in our home, more of a dusting that blanketed the landscape for a handful of days and, if lucky, weeks. But it did reach freezing temperatures at night.
I stole a glance at the moon overhead, the watchful Father protecting us as his mate slumbered.
My mind drifted to those I cared about who were miles and miles away, yet still under the same sky.
A simple concept, knowing we were all connected regardless of the distance that separated us.
We could all, in theory, be looking up at that exact same moment, reminding us that distance was merely a number that could never overcome kinship.
“Finished already?” Gunnar’s taunting laughter pulled me from my trance. “That’s fast, even for you.”
Ignoring his snide remark, I meandered toward the fire, where he and a small handful of other warriors were gathered.
“Never began,” I said to Gunnar as I stood across the flames from him.
Gunnar raised his brows in surprise. “You’re off your game.”
“If you play your cards right…” I gave him a half-cocked grin in amusement, knowing others were listening in. “Someone may be able to benefit from my absence.”
A female and a male seated near the fire seemed intrigued, so I saw it as an opportunity to encourage them both to use my tent for the evening.
Anything to maintain the positive morale of the troops.
“The female in my tent, I believe, isn’t particular about who pleases her tonight,” I announced to the group, “or added company.”
The male and female warriors sitting adjacent to Gunnar looked at each other.
The female’s cheeks flushed a bit as she stood up and raised her brows at the male. “I’m not shy, and I like to share.”
The male cleared his throat before eagerly jumping to his feet to follow her into my tent.
Good, at least someone will be easing some tension tonight.
“And I thought we were going to have a quiet evening during this watch,” Gunnar teased, leaning back to continue carving a small figurine in his hands.
“What are you crafting tonight?” I asked.
“A snake,” Gunnar answered, holding the carving upright, highlighting the unique pattern of scales imprinted across the back. “I thought of carving a basilisk, but I figured Skylar wouldn’t appreciate it.”
I huffed a laugh as I pulled my shirt over my head.
“Besides, the legs looked deformed. This is a much simpler design.”
I eyed his work once more, admiring Gunnar’s keen details in the fangs and the unique way the snake’s body coiled.
Keeping himself busy so his mind would remain sharp. Wise. I taught him that trick.
“It’s never an uneventful evening in a war camp,” I said.
“And now we have a chorus of three at our backs instead of a duet.” Gunnar chuckled. “How nice.”
“I never want your watch to be dull,” I added, strapping my swords across my back before scanning our surroundings. “Which is why I have graced you with my presence this evening.”
Gunnar’s scoff was all I needed to hear as I flashed a toothless grin and laced my hands behind my head.
We were on the southern end of Sterlyn Lake, veering toward the western side of the water’s edge, only a short trek from the boundary of the wilt.
Thick pine and birch trees somehow still stood their ground, with rolling hills and smaller mountains at our backs.
I glanced toward the large boulders that once stood atop the mountains and wondered how they managed to make it here in one piece.
Many were the size of a small house, while others were no bigger than a horse.
Their varying sizes puzzled me, delightfully challenging my intellect as to how they were created.
This clearing was our rendezvous point, and we would remain here until Crimson City forces arrived from the north or word to advance came from my brother’s command.
Through countless centuries of research, my best assumption was that the Heart of Valdor was in the center of the Inner Kingdom itself.
But regardless of whether I was correct, this was a strong position to form an attack.
Off to the east, along the shores of the lake, boats were tied off and secured in case the need to travel across the waters arose.
“All is fine,” Gunnar said. “I checked the perimeter myself only thirty minutes ago.”
“Good,” I said.
“Anything from Skylar? Or Adohan?” Gunnar asked.
I reached into my pocket and retrieved the enchanted parchment, unfolding it and shaking my head. “Nothing,” I mumbled. “Skylar has yet to open Daxton’s letter and hasn’t seen my message.”
“What did you write her?” Gunnar said. “I’ve been meaning to ask.”
I huffed a laugh, running my fingers through my hair. “How does fried roc taste?”
Gunnar doubled over laughing. “Well, that’s one way to get her attention.”
“I thought it was appropriate. And perhaps witty enough for her to reply back with some kind of snarky remark and—”
“So, we’d know that she was safe,” Gunnar finished for me.
“Yes.”
“You know she’ll win the challenge against the alpha. I trained her myself.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said.
Before Gunnar could move, a vision of death flashed across my mind, and I wisely shifted my weight to the right.
“Lucky bastard,” Gunnar swore as his dagger embedded itself in the post of a nearby tent.
“Is it wise to insult your commanding officer like that? Or attempt to harm me?” I asked. “I thought better of you—”
“You knew better than to insult my teachings,” Gunnar replied, standing to retrieve his weapon. “And I knew you’d get a premonition of your impending death and react in time to avoid it.”
“Seems more like luck on your part.”
“No,” Gunnar boasted, “smarts.” He grinned widely, tapping the tip of his dagger to his temple with a confident wink.
I shook my head and sighed.
Gunnar sat back with a disgruntled groan, sheathing his blade at his belt.
An all-too-familiar smirk appeared on the side of his face as he reclined on the dirt near the roaring flames.
“Has your hand not been enough for you these past few months, Cas? Has all that built-up tension made you cranky?”
“Careful,” I warned, the tone of our conversation taking a drastic shift.
“Fair enough,” Gunnar answered, knowing when our banter had reached a stopping point. And he knew that this topic was firmly off-limits.
I scanned the camp once more, looking for— Gods, I didn’t even want to admit to myself what I was looking for.
“I’ll take the next perimeter check,” I told him, donning a black cloak hanging on the nearby rack.
“You’ll want to end your patrol on the western rock faces,” Gunnar said, resuming his carving. The flames gleaming off his half-shaved head highlighted the tattoos inked across his skull.
“Why?” I asked, skeptical.
“You’ll see,” he said, reaching for another log to begin carving through the night. “Just trust me on this one.”
I sucked in a breath and gave him a curt nod as I pulled up the hood of my cloak and turned away from the fire.