25. Twenty-Five
Twenty-Five
With the rain stopped for the moment, Riven built a fire while Bryn watered the horses.
Nova and Callan took turns bathing in the stream under a faint glimmer of sunlight, each one guarding the other’s fresh clothing against any sprites intent on mischief.
Nova scrubbed her soiled tunic, shirt, and breeches as best she could and cleaned the mud from her boots with a wadded handful of wet grass.
Back at the campsite, she draped their damp clothing on the gnarled branches of an overgrown bush, hopeful the weather might hold long enough for their things to dry.
“We need real food. Something larger than a hare.” Riven slung her quiver over her shoulder, her bow in hand. “Boar can be found in this region, but we need a third if we hope to catch one. You coming, Your Grace?”
Callan glanced back and forth between Nova and the others.
Her chest tightened with anxiety she knew belonged to him; he was afraid to leave her alone.
Nova plucked up his cloak, which she had shaken out and brushed.
Standing before him, she threw the garment about his shoulders and fixed the clasp at his neck.
“Boar sounds divine,” she murmured, smoothing her palms over his broad chest. “If I need you, I’ll call for you.” She lifted a hand to his face and brushed her thumb against his temple.
“I’ll return with a feast for my mate.” Callan smiled proudly before snatching up his sword sheath. He captured one of her hands and brought it to his lips, pressing them to the center of her palm.
Riven was already halfway down the knoll, headed for a wooded area in the distance. Bryn tipped her head to Nova.
“Keep your wits about you,” she cautioned before following Callan out of the camp.
Nova tracked them with her eyes until they disappeared through the tree line.
Alone, she fed some wood to the fire and eased herself onto the ground beside it.
As soon as she laid her head down, the sensation of being watched settled upon her, like the sweep of a finger along the back of her neck, faint but unnerving.
Damned sprites, she thought, quick to explain away the uneasy feeling.
She fidgeted on the ground until she found a comfortable position facing the fire, exhaustion tugging at her eyelids.
“I’d better still have both my boots when I wake,” she called out, a warning intended for no one in particular, a commanding edge to her voice. She stared into the dancing flames for a time, her body relaxing by degrees until, finally, she fell asleep.
The sky was bright and clear, dotted with dozens of fluffy, white clouds.
Nova lay stretched out in the grass, her mind finding shapes in the sky.
First a ship, then a rabbit. Suddenly, the sunlight dimmed, a cold shadow creeping along her body beginning at her toes.
She propped herself up on an elbow, one hand shielding her eyes.
The sky darkened further, and Nova beheld a great, black cloud blotting out the sun.
The cloud seemed to grow larger before her eyes, and she realized with a start that it was getting closer.
The dark mass gathered speed, spurred on by an unseen wind.
Nova shifted onto her knees, then rose unsteadily to her feet.
All at once, it was upon her. Only it wasn’t a cloud, but a swarm of ravens.
Thousands of them. The din of their croaking calls reverberated inside her skull.
She fell the ground as the birds rained down upon her.
Nova threw up her arms to protect her face against the attack, the animals swooping and diving, claiming pieces of her with beak and talon.
She opened her mouth to scream but choked on a mouthful of spiny, black feathers. No longer able to shield herself , she fell onto her back as the birds continued their assault. Nova still struggled for breath, the mass of feathers clogging her throat, when the birds claimed her eyes.
Nova woke, gasping for breath. She choked and sputtered, fingers clutching at her neck, wide eyes scanning the sky.
Scrambling onto her knees, she braced her palms on the ground, dry heaving as she worked to expel something from her throat.
With a final cough, she forced it loose, the thing falling from her lips and landing on the ground.
A single black feather.
Nova fell back, shoving herself across the ground with her heels and pressing a trembling hand against her lips.
Terrified and exposed, she searched the overcast sky for any sign of her father’s birds but found none.
She covered her face with her hands, breathing shakily through the cracks between her fingers.
What in the gods’ names am I doing?
All at once, the gravity of the situation crystallized in her mind, perhaps for the first time. She hadn’t allowed herself to truly acknowledge it before—the risk to her life. To the lives of those she loved.
Nova scrubbed her hands over her face, shoving back the loose strands of hair sticking to her cheeks, and swallowed the thick threat of tears clinging to the back of her throat.
She rose to her feet, her hands still trembling, heart sprinting within her chest. In an instant, she understood why Callan had excluded her from the mission to kill General Idrian all those months past. What he’d meant when he said he couldn’t risk her.
If anything were to happen to him on her account, she wouldn’t survive the guilt.
Wouldn’t survive a world without him in it.
Rushing around the camp, she threw her cloak about her shoulders and strapped her dagger to her thigh. She’d no notion of how long she’d been asleep, nor how far she’d be able to travel before the others returned to discover she’d gone on without them.
She approached the horses and retrieved the pouch containing the Kinslayer shards from Callan’s saddlebag.
The urge to touch the blade surged in her mind, but she shook her head roughly against the impulse, depositing the pouch in her own saddlebag.
Hastily, she untied Shade’s reins, soothing the skittish animal with a reassuring hand on its neck and some whispered words before leading the way out of camp.
A dense forest unfurled along the horizon to the north.
Nova knew she couldn’t go back to the Maedwen Estate to the east, nor would she risk returning to the Wylds in the west. North was her best bet, she decided.
She’d put some distance between herself and the others, then decide her next move.
Her mind made up, she mounted her horse and headed for the wood.
The ride passed in a blur, exhaustion painting the world around her with a fog.
After roughly an hour had passed, and with the trees only a stone’s throw away, Shade stumbled for a couple steps, jolting Nova from her daze.
She slid down from the saddle, comforting her horse as she made a hasty examination of each hoof.
The animal’s right hind leg appeared to cause her some discomfort when Nova gently prodded the joint.
Though Shade could walk, Nova deemed it wise to let the horse rest for a bit until she could determine whether there was any swelling.
The sky had darkened with the threat of impending rain.
Nova led her horse to the edge of the wood, slipping past the tree line to hide from view and tethering Shade to a tree limb.
The rains came soon after, but Nova remained mercifully dry beneath the thick canopy.
Clutching her cloak to her, she crouched at the base of a tree, resolved to remain alert and carefully monitor the passage of time.
But, despite her intentions, her eyelids drooped before long, her mind lulled to sleep by the rhythmic pattering of the falling rain.
Nova sensed him the instant before he spoke.
“You left.”
Her eyes shot open to find Callan standing over her. She drew in a sharp breath, briefly stunned by the sheer size of him. He consumed her entire field of vision, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the dim light filtering into the forest through the trees.
“Yes,” she said, swallowing hard against the break of anguish in her voice.
It had taken everything in her to ride away.
Callan crouched in front of her. “Why?” he asked, the word heavy and raw on his tongue.
“To protect you—all of you.” Agitation roiled in her chest. Could he not see that her leaving had been a kindness? Had been for his own good?
“I’ll let you know when I require protection.” Callan’s voice took on a hard edge. He breathed deeply before continuing, “Did you not think I’d come for you?”
“I imagined you would.” Nova flexed her fingers. “I had hoped to travel farther before you realized I was go—”
“You cannot keep doing this, Nova.” Callan ran a hand over his jaw, though the familiar self-soothing gesture did nothing to calm him. “You cannot keep running off. Facing everything on your own. Risking your life for everyone else.”
“And I can’t be the only thing you’re living for!” Nova shouted. Inwardly, she cringed at the bite in the words, but they were true nonetheless. “Who are you to dictate what and who I deem worthy of that risk?”
Callan looked as though she’d struck him.
He pressed his lips together, nostrils flaring, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.
With a fuller beard after weeks of travel and hot indignation flashing in the gold-flecked brown of his eyes, he looked beastly.
Desire sparked low in Nova’s belly as she stared him down, aroused by his passion for her, obvious in the intensity of his gaze.
“That’s fair,” he conceded after a moment, his voice low. “But I will never apologize for how fiercely I love you. Make no mistake, if you leave again, I will find you.”
“Is that a threat?” Nova leaned forward, goading him, the desperate need to either fight or fuck warring within her. It was exactly as Callan had described after he’d nearly come to blows with the drunk at The Wilted Bloom.