Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
NARLA
The hours until the war council passed in a blur of preparation.
Narla went to her shop—escorted by Wyatt, who refused to let her out of his sight—and gathered every candle she’d made since the surge transformed her magic. The mate-revealing ones, the protection ones, the truth ones she’d started experimenting with after Aero’s revelation.
If her flames could strip Derren’s glamour, she needed to be ready.
Ember watched from his perch as she packed, his dark gaze fixed on her hands as though measuring each candle against some private standard she’d never been told.
“I know.” She paused, one hand on a candle that shimmered with violet light. “I should have trusted someone sooner.”
The owl hooted. Reproachful.
“You tried to tell me.” She set the candle in her bag. “That first day Wyatt came in here after the festival—you practically pushed me toward him.”
Another hoot. Smug this time.
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
Wyatt appeared in the doorway, and Narla’s breath caught the way it did every time now. Every time he walked into a room or looked at her or said her name.
“Ready?” His gaze swept over her, warm with a sensation that made her skin flush.
“Almost.” She crossed to him, rose on her toes, pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Thank you. For earlier. For everything.”
His arm snaked around her waist. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“I want to.”
She felt his smile against her temple. “Then you’re welcome.”
They walked to Wolf Moon Brewery as the sun set, painting Haven Shores in shades of orange and pink. Wyatt’s hand stayed at the small of her back—proprietary, protective, grounding. She leaned into the touch.
The brewery was already crowded when they arrived.
Theo and Avine at one table. Leo and Junie at another.
Aero, Cassia, and Delos near the bar, the fire dragon looking uncharacteristically serious.
Beck behind the counter, pouring drinks with mechanical efficiency.
Hux in the corner, phone pressed to his ear.
Everyone looked up when Narla and Wyatt entered.
She braced for judgment. For questions about the attack, the constructs, the choices that had led them here.
Instead, Avine crossed the room and pulled her into a fierce hug.
“Don’t you ever scare us like that again.” Her voice was thick. “Do you understand me?”
“I’ll try.” Narla’s arms came up, returning the embrace. “No promises.”
“Good enough.” Avine pulled back, wiping at her face. “Now, come on. We have a war to plan.”
The next two hours were a blur of strategy and logistics.
Theo outlined the pack’s defensive positions—wolves at every entrance to town, rotating patrols through the night. Leo detailed escape routes and safe houses. Aero marked locations on a map where dragon fire could be deployed without risking civilian casualties.
Avine spread a hand over the harbor section of the map.
“And I’ll seal the water.” Her voice was quiet but certain.
“If he’s sending constructs up from the depths, I hold the surface.
Keep reinforcements from climbing through while the rest of you fight.
” Her gaze moved across the table. “The harbor is deep and old. There’s enough down there to hold them. ”
Junie presented her potions—a dozen vials of shimmering liquid that smelled faintly of ozone. “One vial, properly dispersed, affects everyone within fifty feet. Magical disguises stripped to their fundamental form for approximately ten minutes.”
“And if his form can’t be stripped?” Wyatt leaned forward, his shoulder brushing Narla’s. They’d claimed seats next to each other without discussion, their chairs close enough that their bodies touched. “If the glamour is too strong?”
Junie’s gaze shifted to Narla. “Then we have a backup.”
All eyes turned to her.
Narla swallowed. She pulled one of the surge-charged candles from her bag. “My flames reveal essential truth. Who someone truly is, not who they pretend to be. If Junie’s potions don’t break his disguise, maybe this will.”
“Maybe?” Hux’s voice was sharp. “We’re betting everything on maybe?”
“We’re betting on the combination.” Aero’s calm cut through the rising tension. “Potion and candle. Chemical glamour-stripping and magical truth-revealing. Even if one fails, the other may succeed. And if both work—”
“He’s exposed.” Theo nodded slowly. “Vulnerable. And then the dragons—”
“Burn him to ash.” Delos’s smile showed too many teeth. “My absolute pleasure.”
The council continued. Plans were refined. Contingencies established. By the time they finished, the brewery was empty except for their group, and the moon hung high over Haven Shores.
Theo stood, pulling Avine to her feet. “We finalize positions in the morning. Everyone rests tonight.”
The others filed out in pairs. Leo with Junie, their heads bent close. Aero and Cassia, the elder’s expression thoughtful. Hux alone, his shoulders tight with the weight of protecting his town.
Wyatt caught Narla’s hand as they walked to his truck.
“You were incredible in there.” His fingers laced through hers. “The candle information—that was exactly what we needed.”
“It might not work.”
“It’ll work.” He opened the passenger door for her, waited until she was settled before circling to the driver’s side. “Your magic has been building toward this. The surge, the mate visions, all of it. This is what you were meant to do.”
She wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust that years of fear and hiding had been leading somewhere, that the magic she’d suppressed and denied had been building toward this.
The drive back to the cabin passed in comfortable silence. His hand rested on her thigh—warm, grounding, a point of contact that steadied her racing thoughts.
When they pulled up to the cabin, Wyatt parked but didn’t move to get out. Instead, he turned to face her, his expression unreadable in the darkness.
“Narla.”
“Yeah?”
For a long moment, he just looked at her. The silence stretched, heavy with emotions he refused to acknowledge.
Then he reached over, cupped the back of her neck, and pulled her into a kiss that stole every thought from her head. Deep and thorough and desperate, like he was trying to memorize the taste of her.
When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing hard.
“What was that for?” she managed.
“Because I wanted to.” His voice was rough.
Her throat tightened with something too big to name—something that might break her open if she looked at it too closely.
“Wyatt—”
“I know.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “We don’t have to say it. I just needed you to feel it.”
She didn’t ask what he needed her to feel. She thought maybe she understood anyway.
They went inside. Made their way to his bedroom—their bedroom now, she supposed. Undressed each other slowly, learning the territory all over again. When he slid inside her, when her back arched off the mattress and his name fell from her lips, she felt something shift between them.
Not just want anymore. A deeper truth. Something that scared her almost as much as Derren did.
After, tangled in his sheets, his heartbeat steady under her ear, Narla stared at the ceiling and tried to imagine what came next.