Chapter 46
Isca
For all the good my magic did with animals, it couldn’t change their size or underlying nature.
The stallion I rode was still far larger and more temperamental than the gentle mare I’d grown used to.
I was slowly becoming a better rider, but I came close to falling twice while trying to balance nibbling a piece of cheese in one hand and the reins in the other.
Emrys hadn’t even needed to turn his head to know what was happening. Both times, a subtle push of magic steadied me like invisible hands, righting me and going so far as to correct my posture as well.
We reached our destination by noon. Around us, soldiers moved with practiced efficiency.
Campfires sparked to life as the men started the preparations for lunch.
Others unloaded crates of weapons, tethered horses, and a few passed wineskins full of drink.
A hum of routine filled the air, edged with quiet exhaustion.
Still, there was tension beneath it. The land beyond our camp was not comfortable, safe Darreth—it was ever watchful Gelida now. Emrys left Catrin and me with a ring of guards for the last quarter mile.
A cart groaning under the weight of its cargo pulled up beside us as we drew our horses to a halt.
Its wheels sank a little too deep in the mud, the metal braces of one straining ominously.
I opened my mouth to warn the young soldier taking my reins, but Catrin had already swung down from her saddle to do the same.
The warning came too late. Just as Catrin handed her reins over, a tremendous crack split the air as the overloaded cart buckled.
The axle had snapped in two, and the entire wagon collapsed in a shriek of splintering wood and howling metal.
Swords clattered to the ground. Armor rolled and slammed against the pitted earth.
Chaos erupted.
With panicked whinnies, our horses reared.
“Grab them!” someone shouted.
The man holding our reins tried, but failed.
Our horses bucked, ripping control from the young man’s hands. But—oh gods—he’d tied one of the reins of mine around his upper arm so he could take Catrin’ in hand.
His arm, he would—
“Get clear!” someone bellowed.
I lunged forward instinctively.
But two guards shoved us hard, sending Catrin and me sprawling backward onto the rough ground. My side was wracked with pain as the rhythmic thunder of hooves hammered inside my head.
The young soldier was being dragged, limp and flailing, as the horses bolted away from us.
I didn’t think. I just acted.
A tidal wave of calm ripped out of me in an invisible bolt. Soldiers nearby went slack, crumpling to the ground mid-step, mid-shout.
But the horses slowed. In one stride, they were snorting. By two, stomping. By the third, they’d stopped completely.
The soldiers who hadn’t been in the blast radius of my power rushed toward their younger compatriot. Two grabbed the horses. One carefully pulled the leather off his arm, where blood already soaked the sleeve. Another checked him for further injuries.
I exhaled shakily, still on my knees in the grass. The horses had stopped. No one had died.
The murmurs started immediately.
“Miracle,” “Blessed by the goddess,” “She— Did you see—?”
While the world around us buzzed with awe and fear, Catrin was, well, Catrin. “Gods be-feckin’-low,” she cursed, her hair a mess as she settled herself next to me on the grass.
“You alright?” she asked under her breath.
I managed a nod.
Heavy footsteps thudded toward us. I glanced up just as the soldier she’d been chatting with that day I’d visited the city, dropped to a knee beside Catrin, his expression tight with worry.
He was about my age, with dark brown hair and tanned skin.
There was dirt smeared along his jaw, a streak of sweat glinting on his forehead.
He looked as though he’d crossed half the field for her at a sprint.
“Cat, you hurt?” he demanded. His voice cracked on the last word.
She rolled her eyes before he scooped her into his arms as if she weighed nothing at all. Her bright laughter filled the air as she assured him she was fine.
For a heartbeat, I watched the two of them framed by trampled grass and the concerned expressions of the other men.
The way he looked at her, felt about her—gods.
It was like she was the only thing keeping his heart beating.
Now that I’d seen them together, I couldn’t wait to ask her a million questions.
I was nearly to my feet when there was a sharp pop, and a wave of familiar magic hit me.
Then came the pull.
I was unceremoniously lifted into the air. Wind howled past my ears. My vision turned into streaks of brown, blue, and green as the world blazed by in a blur of motion.
The chaotic swirl faded, and I came to a jarring halt, landing hard on my backside atop linen. In the sudden quiet, I realized I was back in Emrys’s tent…
And he was crouched, hovering above me, looking for all the world like an angry god. His eyes were filled with storm clouds that danced with the frenzied blue lightning of his curse’s madness.
The magic rolling off him caused a painless, involuntary tremor to run through my body. It was the curse, pulsing with that wild feeling, like something ancient and frenzied on the blade’s edge of breaking.
What in all of Avanfell had just happened? Had he just…transported me here with magic?
“Stay,” he growled, voice twisted by magic and fury.
Then, in a flash of leather and steel, he vanished once again. What the…
Two seconds later, Catrin screeched from somewhere nearby. “Emrys! You…”
I opened the flap of his tent to see Catrin in a fury, rising out of ours, hair messed into a wild halo around her face.
“Back in your tent!” he ordered her.
She stomped one petulant foot in response. Then her eyes caught mine. The look she gave me clearly stated, He ruined a good thing. I want to strangle him. Will you do it for me?
I laughed, but Emrys was already stomping my way again. He pointed one finger at me and jerked it toward the back of the tent.
I rolled my eyes and retreated inside. I already knew what was coming: overprotectiveness.
He stalked through the flap, immediately turned to face away from me, and snarled at the tent wall. His shoulders heaved as he trembled. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides like he was deciding whether to tear the tent apart.
“I was on the other side of the camp,” he growled, still not looking at me. “I heard the crash, and then I felt your magic.” His voice dropped lower, sounding ragged. “I thought…”
“Emrys…” I said gently. It didn’t surprise me he was overreacting, given that a scout had been so near to the camp only yesterday.
“The opposing war camp is less than an hour’s ride away! One of my men is maimed. I thought you—” He broke off, raking both hands through his dark hair.
He thought I’d been hurt, or worse. His walls were down, so I could read every worry written on his soul. Every inch of him was frantic with anxiety, so much so that it was tearing him apart.
I gazed heavenward, pleading for the right thing to say to calm the madness sharing his skin. “When the horses ran wild, your men cleared us out of their path. They saved us.”
“Then you had to save that idiot who tied a rein to his arm!” He turned, his face contorted with barely suppressed emotion. A tangible energy heated the air around him.
“Yes, how is he?” I asked, as I stepped slowly toward him.
When I thought about it, it angered me how little effort people took to understand that Emrys would calm if given a bit of time to wrestle the curse back down. He wasn’t someone to be written off; he wasn’t a lost cause—he simply had more obstacles than everyone else to overcome first.
“The soldier won’t be fit to fight for months.” Emrys walked in a tight circle. He was still breathing hard. His lips were curled back in a snarl, revealing teeth clenched tight.
“Emrys,” I said, getting closer. “Catrin and I are fine.”
He scanned me, his gaze implying that my words were false. I looked down. Dirt covered my traveling dress. Leaves were stuck in my hair, and a bruise was blossoming where I’d struck the ground. I looked worse than I felt.
He turned to start pacing again, like the tent was his cage.
I took another step toward him.
“No more risk,” he growled. “I will not have you seen around the camp. Not with the enemy so near. You will stay in these tents.”
I finally stepped within reach. I encircled his waist with my arms. He stopped breathing briefly, but it felt to my senses like he took a long step back from the edge.
Slowly, he turned around, the snarl unwound from his features, his jaw unclenched as his turbulent eyes flicked to mine—wary, grateful, and desperate all at once.
Catrin and I would only need to be inside the tent for a few hours this afternoon and tomorrow while he met with the general. It was a small concession to make if it calmed his beast.
“Okay,” I agreed. “Unless you’re with us, Catrin and I will be in the tents while we’re this close to the other camp. Yes?”
He said nothing, only stared down at me for a long moment as he studied my face. “Promise me, Isca.”
Saying it was easy. “I promise.”
“Everything in me is screaming to protect you, to keep you,” he admitted, stroking my back. “I’ve made peace with being the villain, Isca. But this is turning me into a beast.” He was still trying to convince me that he wasn’t safe.
“You’re not a beast,” I said, meaning it. “Whenever I get a glimpse inside you, it feels like you’re trying to hold back a river with your bare hands. That doesn’t make you a beast, or a monster, Emrys. That makes you a man who still hasn’t stopped trying.”
And if you are a monster, then you’re my monster.
The thought hit me like an avalanche. I’d fallen so hard and so fast that I hadn’t truly acknowledged how possessive my feelings had become.