25. Cato
Cato
For two more days, we travel through the same hilly, rocky terrain, and despite how much I try to forget it, my mind keeps flashing back to that crumbling ledge. The first night, it took me hours to fall asleep, only to dream Aryn hadn’t caught me.
My stomach damn near fell out of my body as I woke up gasping, and Aryn had to pin me down as my eyes flew open. I only managed to ground myself when I found him in the dark and heard his calming whispers, but I didn’t sleep anymore.
I’m not used to fear. Normally I shrug things off, but this sits low in my gut in a constant, nagging reminder of how close I came to becoming another smear on those rocks. I’m afraid of falling, afraid of fucking sleeping, and every time rocks crumble in the distance, I’m also afraid of them.
I hate it.
Aryn is the only thing that keeps me level, and I hate that, too.
I try to hide how much it affected me, but while my mask has fooled the others, he sees right through it. He doesn’t look at me as though I’m weaker, though, even as he hovers closer during the day and secures me against his chest at night.
He looks at me like I’m worth protecting, and I don’t know how to handle that.
Vulnerability like this has always been a weakness I can’t afford, and yet here I am, drawn to him more and more with every passing hour since that day.
It’s like the fall cracked something open inside me, and now I can’t stop noticing every little thing about him—the way his tail twitches when he’s on edge, the low timbre of his voice when he speaks my name, how safe I feel when he’s close.
It’s terrifying.
I don’t know how to make it stop.
I don’t know if I want to.
The further we go, the more signs of life we see.
Thin trails of smoke appear in the distance, well-worn paths split off toward homesteads, and the occasional traveler passes, though they give us a wide berth.
We pass another tree carved up with the Viskari symbol, but we don’t find any more burned-out camps or outright signs of violence.
Eventually, the river leads us back onto the main road, and the whole group stays alert.
More people appear now. A few groups travel on foot, some ride those big horse-like creatures, and we pass a couple of farmers pulling carts.
A lot of them stare at us, especially at me, Cameron, and Taryn.
Some look curious, others look like they want to say something, but ultimately, nobody gives us any real trouble.
Late in the afternoon on the third day, the trees open up and we get our first look at the trading post called Thralune. It’s small, but it’s civilization, and I’m ready to be somewhere besides the middle of nowhere. No wild animal attacks, no cliff diving adventures, and maybe even a bed.
Creature fucking comforts.
The village sits in a valley where the river curves between the mountains. It forms an inlet behind the buildings, and from here I can see several fishing boats and a few piers. Purple banners with a cracked crown flap in the wind—the Vaelor’s symbol, and supposedly signaling a safe place to land.
I don’t let my guard down for a single second.
The place seems secure enough, with a tall wooden wall for protection. Two guards stand watch at the open gates. One’s a Khileon, like Thulga’s family, and the other is a black-scaled Lu’Mite. Never met a friendly one, but this one at least doesn’t seem hostile.
The guards stop us, exchanging words with Ronan and Aryn that I can’t understand. They eventually wave us through, but I don’t miss the way the Lu’Mite’s forked tongue slips between her lips as I pass. It’s creepy as hell, but I hold back my shudder for the sake of diplomacy.
The smell and sounds of a real town hit me all at once. Thralune feels alive in a way nowhere else has. People chatter and laugh, a few bicker over prices, and the noise makes me feel a little more at home, even if it’s a far cry from the city I’m used to.
Most of the buildings are dark wood and weathered stone, with thatched roofs or the same slate shingles we saw at the farm.
Windows are made of thick, warped glass, and smoke curls from so many chimneys, it causes a slight haze to hover overhead.
Instead of sleek and modern, it feels like something out of a fantasy novel.
And the smells. They hit my nose faster than I can sort them. Fresh bread, cooking meat, and burning wood, all mixing with the stink of the stables to our left. A quiet laugh leaves me as I realize I’ve missed the smell of shit.
The path down the center of town looks like it was cobblestone at one point, but it’s so old and beaten down, it’s mostly packed dirt now.
Merchants line both sides under wooden awnings, shouting at buyers as they pass.
A large vendor sells baskets of produce, and the one beside him holds up thick woven blankets and clothes.
There’s a stand of tiny bottles of glowing oils next to a display of silver jewelry, and another has hot meat pies that smell so good my stomach growls loud enough for Aryn to hear.
Further down, a restaurant sits on the corner. Giant, burning braziers sit between tables, and bundled-up monsters of every color chat while they eat. The building beyond has a wooden sign swaying above the door, but I can’t read what’s written there.
At the far end of the square is a two story building that looks like an inn. It’s the biggest place here, with lanterns hanging on hooks along the porch and faint music from inside drifting out into the street.
The whole place has a rugged, lived-in feel that’s weirdly comforting, even with my unease about not understanding a word anyone’s saying.
People move around in heavy cloaks and furs, mostly minding their own business.
A few glance our way, but no one looks hostile.
A group of kids stares openly, nudging each other and pointing at me and the other humans like we’re some kind of spectacle.
I fight the urge to snap my teeth at them and give them a show.
Barely.
Aryn stays close beside me the whole time and catches my eye. “I know it’s not exactly Atlanta…”
“No,” I agree, “but it’s actual civilization, so I’ll take it.”
Ronan pulls us off the main path, biting his cheek as he thinks. “I have no idea what things cost anymore, or what the coin Thulga gave us is worth.”
Aryn glances around at the merchants. “I can go talk to some folks. It’s been a long time, but I lived in this world for the longest. I can be discreet.”
“You act like Ronan won’t be,” Cameron says with a smirk.
“How do you think that would go if he tried?” I ask.
Cameron chuckles and drops his voice into a growl. “I demand you tell me the value of this coin. Do not lie to me, or I’ll know it.”
Ronan rolls his eyes toward the sky. “You act like my time in the military didn’t require me to be diplomatic.”
“Of course it did,” Cameron fires back. “And that’s why you had Elas.”
Aryn grins to himself, his eyes catching mine. “Don’t cause any trouble while I’ve got my back turned.”
“Me?” I demand, placing a hand on my heart. He lifts a brow before turning away and heading into the marketplace.
“So, what’s going on with that?” Cameron asks once Aryn’s out of earshot.
“Hmm?” I hum, pretending I don’t know exactly what he’s talking about.
He laughs and swats my forearm. “Oh, don’t play coy. You guys didn’t tell a fucking soul when you were marked, and he hasn’t left your side long enough for me to get any real information out of you.”
“There’s not much information to give,” I say with a shrug.
“Ahh,” he drawls. “You’re fighting it.”
“I’m not fighting it,” I argue. “It’s just…”
“Complicated?”
“So fucking complicated,” I mutter.
He hums like he gets it, watching the crowds for a beat before he speaks again. “I’ve been there, you know. Felt all that stupid shit you’re feeling right now.”
“Oh?” I challenge, refusing to confirm anything.
“Mm hmm. The denial that anything is happening. The confusion about why you’re so drawn to him. The anger at having your choice stripped away.” The last one lands like a gut punch. I must flinch, because his face softens. “It’s okay to not be okay about this, you know.”
“It’s not him,” I admit quietly, even though Ronan’s ears twitch like he’s listening. “Aryn is… incredible.”
“He seems like it,” Cameron agrees sincerely. “And he seems to let you run the show.”
“He does.”
“Does he want to be mated to you?”
My throat thickens, and I force a swallow. “That’s not for me to tell.”
“Alright, so that’s a yes. But… you don’t want that?”
“I…” The words die when I spot Aryn’s deep red skin moving between the vendors.
He stops to talk to a handsome monster with a deep purple complexion I’ve never seen before, then flashes him a laid-back, sincere smile.
It hits me hard enough that I want to march over and yank the guy out of the way so I can be the one on the receiving end of that smile.
“It’s complicated,” I repeat.
Cameron follows my stare and nudges me with his elbow. “You could give it a shot.”
“That’s not how it works with him,” I say, sharper than I mean to.
“Okay, okay, I’ll back off,” Cameron says, hands up in surrender.
“Just… think about why you’re holding back.
If you don’t want to be with him, I respect that.
That’s your choice. If you’re doing it to give the Fates a middle finger, trust me, I get that too.
But if you’re doing it because you’re scared—”
“I’m not scared,” I snarl.
He rolls his eyes at my temper. “—or if you think you don’t deserve this…” He trails off, reaching back to weave his fingers with Ronan’s. “I know what it’s like to believe you’re meant to be alone, Cato. You aren’t. And I think you know that.”
I do know that.
I also know what it’s like when it’s all ripped away.