Chapter 24
NEIRIN
I kept pace with Evera, though she walked with a stiff, vigorous step. Lowering my eyes to her, I pondered her shift in mood as we cleared the busy hum of the market and stopped before the cobbled road. A wagon passed by, but there was nothing remarkable about it that gave cause for concern.
As the huntsman had predicted, word of the King’s death had reached Elrune, and with that knowledge, I found myself more on edge.
The first rumors I had detected from a group of travelers dining at the inn just before leaving to meet with Evera.
A second telling I overheard along my way.
It was then that I instructed Calix to spend the day observing, listening.
It was my hope, however, that he would stay out of trouble beyond that.
I did not trust the sleight of his hand.
When the wagon cleared, Evera set forward again, and I fell in step beside her.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was bothering her beyond her brother’s disapproval.
When we were in the shop and she reached for my hand, I sensed her distress through the bond.
The concept of detecting someone else’s emotions was new and strange.
But nothing about magic was logical, so I didn’t waste time worrying over it.
I longed to voice her name, but I held it back and instead stilled my steps when we neared the fence line branching out from the stables, keeping gentle hold of her hand so that she stopped and looked back at me.
“Will you tell me what made you fearful back in your shop?” I asked.
“How—” She shook her head.
“I can sense your emotions.”
She shook her head again, clearly disbelieving. It was a strange confession, admittedly.
“I don’t understand how it works,” I said. “But I want to know what frightened you when you reached for my hand.”
Evera cast her gaze aside but allowed me to continue holding her hand in my own. “Honestly, I don’t know.” The faintness of her voice tugged at my heart. “Can we not discuss it?”
I relented, despite the worry I held for her. Perhaps I could fluster her again, as I had in the garden, and shift her mood at least.
“Would you rather discuss kisses?” I asked, leaning down to her ear.
She inhaled sharply and dropped my hand to shove at my chest. “I do not want to talk about—” She huffed.
“Kisses,” I suggested, grinning. “The kind not on your mouth.” A reminder for the sake of adding kindling to the fire.
She flushed, her cheeks taking on a rosy tone beneath the dappling of freckles.
If she did not wish to speak of what weighed on her, at least I could lighten the burden with distraction.
Retaking her hand, I led her through the door and into the stables.
Inside, the air was warmer and held the familiar scents of animals and dried grass.
“What are we doing?” she asked, stopping.
A smile tugged at the corners of my lips, and I braced an arm on the wooden beam of the door just above her head, taking advantage of the opportunity.
The heat in her cheeks deepened, and she narrowed her eyes.
Her pupils dilated as they adjusted to the dim light until hardly any color remained in their outer rings.
“It will be more enjoyable to ride than to walk.” I leaned in.
“We don’t ride Sorrel,” she said, though this time her words came on a breath, quieter, her sharpness tempered by my proximity.
“What is the point in having a mare you don’t ride?”
Not waiting for a response, I released Evera and paced to the wall where bridles, brushes, and other miscellaneous items hung or sat on rudimentary shelves.
“She pulls our wagon,” Evera explained, remaining in the doorway. “Aureus travels south to the port of Literra once every three or four fortnights to replenish supplies for our shop.”
“Which bridle is hers?”
“Second from the left,” she said with a shake of her head. “But we don’t have a saddle.”
Withdrawing the tack, I passed Evera and turned left to her mare’s pasture. “We don’t need a saddle. Do you know how to ride?”
“Not really.” She fell into step beside me, withdrew a key from a pocket in her skirts, and fit it in the lock at the gate.
“Leighis used to set me on Sorrel’s back when I was a child and lead me around the pasture.
” There was an edge of wistfulness to her tone, and when the gate swung open and she looked up at me, I held her gaze.
“That is why you care so deeply for the mare.”
“Maybe so.” A smile tugged at her lips, and she stepped past me.
Each time she did so, the absence of her presence left me feeling … not whole. I followed her, leaving the gate ajar as Evera crossed a short distance to greet her mare.
“Sorrel is a companion,” she said, brushing the mare’s forelock to the side. The animal snorted and nuzzled at Evera’s neck, making her giggle.
An animal couldn’t be a companion. Animals were unintelligent beasts that cared only for self-preservation, incapable of feelings or caring for others . But Evera was happy now, smiling, and that was all that mattered.
When I reached her, I held up the bridle, and the mare dipped her head obediently. Fitting it over the animal’s ears, I secured the buckle beneath her jaw and gathered the reins in one hand.
“Why did you say back in the shop that you would never have children?”
The question surprised me, though perhaps it shouldn’t have. It was logical that such topics would arise during the courting process. Still, it put me on edge. The concept of creating another monster like myself was not an option. I drew the reins over Sorrel’s head to rest on her withers.
“As I said before, I have no name to give.” A thought came to me then. “You did make the tea, did you not?” The beat of my heart quickened. I braced my hands on her shoulders, demanding her full attention. A knot twisted in my stomach as I awaited her response.
Evera only frowned. “Tea?”
“In the tower house, you promised me—” My words came quickly, but I caught them, swallowed them. Beneath my skin, the familiar crawling of my monster reminded me of his presence and of my own lack of control over my emotions. “You swore.”
Realization dawned across her face. “I made the tea. Neirin, I’m not …” She frowned. “I only wanted to know why. Seeing you with Calix …”
I released a heavy breath, relief easing my muscles as I released her shoulders too.
“Calix is not like other children, and the situation is complicated.” I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose.
I would relent to Evera’s pressing questions, not wanting to keep things from her, even as answering her unsettled me.
“My mother was like me. If I inherited this bloodline from her, I could pass it on to my own children. Is that not how it works?”
A sadness clouded Evera’s eyes, and she took one of my hands in hers. There was no need for her to respond; I knew the answer, and by the set of her jaw, I could tell she was equally aware.
I cast my eyes aside. “I will not create another monster.”
For a moment, stillness fell around us. In the neighboring pasture, a foal burst into a run, legs flashing like quicksilver beneath the sun, while its mothers warning snort rippled through the air.
The breeze that followed, curled around us like a whisper, heavy with the green-sweet perfume of budding leaves and the promise of new grass, as though even the season itself leaned closer to listen. .
“Neirin.” She squeezed my hand. “Why do you think you’re a monster?”
The fox’s claws dug in, raking beneath my skin. Heat pooled through my veins, and my breath quickened. The creature was growing stronger, reacting faster to my lapses in control, latching on to the moments when emotions overcame me and using them as a pathway toward overpowering me.
Evera sighed. “You don’t have to answer …”
Why do you think you’re a monster?
“My brother,” I said, the words a low rasp.
If not by blood, then by heart, Thatcher would always be remembered as a brother in my eyes.
“Thatch, he—” Flexing my right hand into a fist, I fought to steady my heart rate.
The image of his last labored breaths and of the metallic reek of his blood returned to me in a rush.
Steadying my shaking hands, I stepped to Evera and drew her reflexively to my chest, burying my nose in her curls and inhaling the scent of her. She tensed at first but quickly relaxed, then her arms came around my waist. Safe. She was safe.
“Please, let me hold you for just a moment longer,” I pleaded, the words coming broken, weak, desperate. Although that weakness should have further unsettled me, further fed my monster, my tension only eased when Evera was in my arms.
All outward thoughts fell away, not unlike the way they did when I fought.
Yet this clarity came not from a rush of adrenaline or an ingrained response to the prospects of life and death.
It came with a comfort, a soothing sort of warmth.
One that eased my body and lent my thoughts to a contented quiet.
Reminiscent almost of the sensations that came just before slipping into sleep.
As I held her, nothing else existed beyond the scent of my mate and the warmth of her body.
She fit in my embrace as if we were crafted for each other.
Mate. I hated that word. It was a term used to describe the pairing of animals. Yet that was what the old man had called us. True mates. And damned if the urge to think of her that way came from my creature; I didn’t care. She was mine. No, I am hers.
When my body settled, I drew back, and she raised her chin to meet my eyes. “I shouldn’t have pressed.”
“No,” I countered. “My monster—” No use speaking. I knew what her response would be. “My fox … He seeks control when I’m unsettled. It’s growing harder for me to push him down.”