26. Twenty-Six
Twenty-Six
Nova righted herself, hastily cleaning away the evidence of their coupling and drawing up her breeches. Callan remained on his knees, one brow raised as he awaited an explanation.
“Twice we’ve been targeted by dark creatures on this journey, though few knew of our plans beforehand,” Nova began.
Callan nodded.
“When I exited the burial mound, the sprite who helped guide my way told me someone has their eye on me.”
Callan pinched his necklace between his fingers and held it out from his chest to inspect it.
“I’m warned of a watchful eye. You wear a medallion emblazoned with one,” Nova went on. “You’ve never worn that charm before now. Certainly, that can’t be a coincidence. Who gave this to you?”
Callan shook his head slowly, seemingly transfixed by the silver pendant. “It was Liv. She gave one to Thorn as well. The symbol, it represents protection.” His voice held a hint of disbelief, but his dark eyes narrowed as understanding washed over him.
With a sharp tug, he snapped the silver chain and cast the necklace into the dense forest.
“From the moment I met her, my intuition has flickered.” Callan stood and quickly tied his laces. “To think she’s endeared herself to my uncle so completely, conspiring against me and my mate all along.”
“What is her aim?” Nova asked. “What does she gain from being in league with Omen?”
“I don’t know,” Callan replied, his jaw tight.
Nova knew that look well. His mind was humming, attempting to make sense of the revelation.
“A viper—that’s what Thorn called you. Accused me of bringing a viper to his hearth while one slept beside him each night.” He paced beside her with halting steps, fists clenched at his sides.
“We can’t be certain it’s Liv,” Nova offered, taking his hands in hers and pulling him close in an attempt to calm him.
“You rid yourself of the charm. Perhaps that is enough. I fear neither of us is thinking clearly.” She gestured vaguely around them, hinting at the invisible wyld magic that would see them abandon all reason.
Lose themselves in emotion. “We need to get out of Maedwen. Then we can make sense of this.”
Callan nodded firmly. “You’re right, love. Come—let’s return to the others. It’s high time we bid the Spring Court farewell.”
Frost wandered along the tree line not far from where Shade remained tethered.
Thankfully, the horse’s leg hadn’t developed any swelling since she’d stumbled.
The rain poured in buckets on their ride back to camp, as if the land had tired of them as well and sought to force them out by making conditions as inhospitable as possible.
They found Riven and Bryn huddled under a small canvas, roasting thick slabs of boar meat over the fire. After securing the horses, Nova and Callan ducked beneath the shelter to join the Wyldlings.
“Food’s nearly ready,” Riven said, turning the meat.
Bryn only tipped her head in a silent greeting.
Callan brought his mouth close to Nova’s ear, murmuring, “I may have alarmed them. When I realized you’d gone, I . . . I wasn’t behaving sensibly.”
Nova squeezed his hand once and lowered herself to sit beside Bryn. Callan joined her after a beat, and the four of them stared into the fire without speaking for a time.
“Apologies for running off,” Nova said at last as she accepted one of the meat skewers from Riven. “I had a nightmare, and I let my fear get the better of me.” She blew on the sizzling meat, the scent setting her mouth watering, and took a bite.
“Glad Callan managed to make you see reason,” Bryn said.
“A good fuck will do that,” Riven added matter-of-factly.
Nova nearly choked on her food, and the Wyldling burst out laughing.
“You know, I almost feel bad for you outsiders, but it’s endlessly entertaining watching you grow more feral the longer you remain here,” Riven said.
“Well, you’ll soon need to find other entertainment,” Callan said gruffly. “We plan to depart as soon as we’re able.”
“Ah, wonderful!” Riven sang through the food in her mouth. “Where to next?”
“Your dream,” Bryn asked tentatively, “was it another vision? Do you know the location of the final shard?”
Nova shook her head, swallowing a mouthful and wiping the grease from her fingertips on the coarse grass.
Banishing the memory of the ravens’ croaking calls from her mind, she said, “Perhaps it’s time I held my father’s sword.”
When they’d all finished eating, Callan retrieved the two pieces of Kinslayer and set them on the ground in front of Nova.
Together, the shards nearly formed the entire length of the blade; only the hilt was missing.
Nova flexed her fingers, then splayed them on top of her thighs.
Despite her understanding of how painful it would be, the urge to touch the blade consumed her mind like flames licking through dry grass.
Blowing out a breath, she shook the tension from her hands and made to pick up the shards.
“Not so fast,” Callan cautioned, positioning himself in a crouch directly behind her and taking hold of her wrists. “I’ll lay your hands on the blade and remove them when it gets to be too much.”
Nova nodded once, indicating she was ready, and Callan lowered her hands.
As soon as she made contact with the dark metal, the familiar burn sparked in her fingertips before spreading to her wrists and into her forearms. Her eyes slammed shut, and she gritted her teeth.
Barely a breath later, the pain evaporated, and Nova blinked her eyes open.
A harsh odor stung her nose. She threw an arm over her face as a gust of hot air blew her back.
Perched on a narrow ledge on the side of a mountain, a thin strip of rock a few paces wide was all that separated her from a deadly drop.
Nova turned slowly, minding her feet. Craning her neck, she took in the wall of solid rock rising up before her, her arm falling to her side.
The air seemed to ripple as heat radiated off the stone.
A plume of dark smoke poured forth from the summit, flooding a sky stained a vivid red by the most vibrant sunrise she’d ever seen.
A deafening roar split the air, the deep rumble shaking the mountain beneath her feet.
Nova stumbled and fell onto her backside.
Thrashing her arms wildly, she caught a handhold in the mountainside and kept herself from tumbling over the edge.
As Nova stared at the sky, eyes searching for the source of the monstrous sound, a creature appeared above the mountain’s peak, its massive wings dispersing the cloud of black smoke pooling in the bloodred sky.
A drak.
Her heart stuttered at the terrible predator of her childhood stories made flesh before her, and she resisted the impulse to scramble backward off the ledge and away from it.
The shiny black scales covering its serpentine body glimmered like embers, bathed in the crimson sunlight.
Two great clawed legs curled close to its belly, winged arms beating to keep it aloft, a row of curved spikes extending from the base of its neck to the tip of its long tail.
Nova inhaled sharply, the acrid tang of brimstone stinging the back of her throat and setting her eyes watering.
She brought her arm across her face once more, coughing into the crook of her elbow so as not to draw the attention of the beast. But she simply couldn’t get a full breath.
The creature roared again, its eyes like obsidian seeming to settle on her where she sat, exposed on the mountainside.
In a heartbeat, the drak gave a final flap of its wings, then drew them close to its sides and dove through the air toward her.
Without thought, Nova rolled off the narrow ledge.
She flailed her limbs, a ragged scream ripping from her lips. Something tightened around her middle, and Nova returned to herself. She was on her back, Callan on the wet ground beneath her, his arms wrapped around her waist. The pieces of broken blade lay cradled in a patch of grass beside them.
Nova gulped down several breaths, thankful for the fresh, cool air of Maedwen, despite the wyld magic steeped in it.
Sliding off of Callan, she tugged him up to sitting.
Her heart still raced at the visceral sensation of her drop from the ledge.
Bryn and Riven moved closer, and Nova quickly described all she had seen, stumbling over every other word as her thoughts flowed faster than her mouth could keep up.
“It sounds like Dawnpeak,” Callan said. “In the east of Sonnend where the sun first touches Aemoria.”
Much of the landscape of the Solar Court was mountainous, vast ranges dotted with caves perfect for drak lairs. Dawnpeak, Callan explained, was beautiful but dangerous, at times spouting molten rock from its summit.
“The drak must keep its horde nearby, drawn by the heat,” Bryn reasoned. “Your father chose quite a guard dog.”
“It was awful.” Nova shook her head, swiping her sleeve across her mouth, the memory of the sharp bite of brimstone still clinging to the back of her throat. “The heat was intense. And the stench—I could barely breathe.”
“Well, then.” Riven rose to her feet and clapped her hands together. “It seems you’re all bound for the Solar Court. I’m afraid I can’t tag along. There’s a portal near Dawnpeak, but all portal travel in and out of Maedwen is—”
“Forbidden,” Callan supplied. “We know.”
“Then how will we get there?” Nova asked, looking to the others. Callan appeared lost in thought.
“You’ll have to return to Pyralis or Tundara and use one of their portals,” Riven said, already collecting her things.
“But that could take weeks.” Nova spun her mother’s ring on her knuckle. “We can’t backtrack now. The Council’s decision is due soon. We need the final piece of Kinslayer.”
When Callan completed his mental calculations, he turned his gaze to Nova, eyes apologetic. “We’ve no other choice but to go back.” He stood and headed for the horses.
Nova scrambled to her feet as well. “That’s not entirely true,” she said, jogging to catch up with him.