Chapter 13
Declan
Istared down into my morning cup, my eyelids heavy after a night of barely grasped sleep. What was rest when “good boy” kept resounding in my head like a gong and Honey lay inches away? Granted, those inches might as well have been miles. Maybe that’s why dreams eluded me.
At least she wasn’t mad about the partial bond anymore.
Though, knowing Fallon, it would circle back to her list. I had to do better at convincing her we deserved a chance before it made it back on there.
Progress seemed possible when she told me to take off the nightgown.
I didn’t like that I had misinterpreted her desire.
Our friendship should have given me a better understanding of how to make her my mate, but this was a tricky business.
I hadn’t forgotten that she still lied to me.
Fallon stood in the kitchen with Momma, who seemed ready to teach. I didn’t need to hover. I just wanted to. What if today was the day Fallon finally looked over at me and understood we were meant to be?
“King of Leisure.”
I snapped my head toward Briggs. “Don’t start.” I wasn’t awake enough for her teasing.
They were all dancing around my homecoming lie with me because I threatened them with revealing their own childhood weirdness. And because, ultimately, I had the power to exile them from Nightfell. Briggs especially loved skirting the line.
“If you’re done mooning for the day, we need you at the south perimeter. The patrol has escorted some creepy-ass guests into the territory.”
My brow creased. That wasn’t right. The Old Magic shielded us from most of the Harrowlands.
Only the very determined and very magical could hope to find us.
It’s what I hated about this territory as a pup because it meant we never changed.
Now I appreciated that it also kept us safe, especially with some of our own disappearing.
I needed to check on the Whitewolfs today. After I dealt with this.
“If anyone can discover us in the first place, the guards are supposed to lead them away from the territory.”
Had the pack gotten lax with my father gone? I would meet with them next. I just assumed they were still running fine, though they didn’t stop us at the border, so perhaps I did need to check in. My head throbbed.
“They tried. The bastards were persistent. Shooing didn’t work and we banned rending people limb from limb when Dad left.”
Well, maybe lax was a good thing if that was the case.
I glanced over at Fallon, engrossed in her lesson.
Dread pooled in my belly. Would she notice if I were gone?
How would I explain where I was? If I took her with me, these types of situations didn’t exactly call for my sunny demeanor.
What would Honey think if, Godds forbid, I had to yell?
Or worse. If I did have to rend someone limb from limb?
I would do it to keep her safe and then probably eat an entire cake by myself afterward.
“Take me to them.”
Briggs eyed Fallon. “Shouldn’t your mate be part of the welcoming committee?”
I gritted my teeth. Our lies tangled up in an impossible knot. I couldn’t leave her when we weren’t supposed to stand being apart, but she couldn’t know why I was there. I would hide in the back while Briggs dealt with it.
“Briggs says there’s a bunch of dudes looking for a cup of sugar. Wanna go watch, Fallon?”
I knew she didn't want to from the way she hesitated. Momma smiled and said, “A good chance to practice in the real world. Find some dormant void berry bushes and see if you can coax them into giving you some. I can show you how to make wine with them.”
Fallon wasn't dumb. She knew when she was being pawned off.
“We can find some on the way.” I didn't really understand how this was going to work, but the urgent looks Briggs sent my way meant I couldn't get out of it.
Out into the cold we trudged, Fallon in her layers, us in our fur against the frigid landscape. It was a nice day to be outside, clear and sunny if not warm. Ned loped alongside us and Fallon threw him a stick.
He won't give up now.
I tried to inject some cheerfulness into my mental voice, but it came out leaden. Worry gnawed at me. This was worse than the visit to the Whitewolfs because Honey was here to see.
The beautiful winter day read more like an omen when we met the advanced patrol milling about three figures.
Like drops of blood against the snow, the three monks stood out against the landscape and the sunshine.
The hair on the back of my neck rose and I kept Honey well away from them.
Monks were chew toys as far as I was concerned.
The echo of the lash against my fur made me flinch.
Memories appeared when I needed them the least, sharpening my teeth and lengthening my claws.
There was no way I wouldn't be between them and my mate, so I ended up at the head of the group despite my resolve.
I might have sprayed some snow at them in my stop, just to gauge their reaction.
The Brothers of Zophiel would have withheld food for a week for that.
They calmly brushed it off, but their expressions were impossible to read in their deep hoods.
Their eerie tranquility was all the more disturbing when the middle monk pulled back his red hood and smiled a wide grin full of square, blindingly white teeth. His bald head and gaunt features screamed of dungeons and blood magic. So worse than the Brothers. They were just mean.
Well, at least it’s not Brad, Fallon said.
Or a Goddess relic making you lose your mind. Or a fight for the Elven throne. No one wanted to do that again.
“Welcome neighbors! Percy, leader of this merry band.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “We came to say hi.” His voice and tone were perfectly normal, which somehow made it creepier coming out of his skull-like head. The robe, the nail belt, the giant ruby ring didn’t inspire confidence.
“And bring cook…”
I shifted to human, making sure I kept my body between them and Honey.
“...ies,” the monk on the right lost her sentence as she drew back her own hood.
Her cheeks turned as scarlet as her robe and she brushed a hand over her missing hair.
Her eyes glued to my dick in a way that was embarrassing for the first time in my life.
I backed up another step, fighting not to retch at her attention.
The other man waved his ringed hand, producing said cookies in a basket from a red-rimmed void.
Ned immediately lunged for them and I had to catch his ruff. The animal had no sense of self-preservation.
“Sit,” I told him, and the lady monk plopped into the dirt before she bounced up again.
“Oh, sorry. The dog.” Her stuttering came out decidedly breathless.
A thread of prickly fire wound through me. Were they trying to work magic on us? I followed the tether back to Fallon, of all people. Her expression amped up to ‘murderous feral bitch face’ and her gaze glued to the female monk still eyeing my goods. Was Honey… jealous?
The tension in the clearing rose as she stepped closer to me, standing next to Briggs. My sensitive hearing caught Fallon whispering urgently to her.
Honey?
They look like the monks who stole Brad from Maggie's dungeon. Same nail belts and red everything.
That perked my ears. The Followers of Virtue, Noth had called them. Anything to do with the maniac that tried to conscript me into a shifter army, kidnap Fallon, and try to steal the Elven throne was a no in my book.
So, hard pass on the cookies then?
Fallon smothered a laugh.
“Won’t you take a cookie? They’re my favorite!” The woman held out the plate with eager, twitching hands.
Honey strode forward. I didn’t bring my meat cleaver.
I bit back my laugh. Well, she did promise to tell me if she suddenly had the urge to kill another woman for me. I stopped myself from hopping from foot to foot. Suddenly, the day looked so much brighter.
I turned to Fallon. Can I have your scarf?
She might have laid on the mate thing a little thick as she sauntered up to me and let her hands roam a bit before handing me the skimpy fabric.
Tying it around my waist was almost useless when I sported the Harrowland’s hardest boner, but that seemed to bring Fallon’s rage level down to her normal ‘resting serious face’.
It turned to fear when Percy, the head monk, spoke again. “We were hoping your feastweaver might tell us if they're any good.”
DON'T MOVE. I shouted to every wolf surrounding us, locking my muscles so I wouldn't glance at Fallon. She lounged against me idly enough but fine tremors ran over her skin. The monk didn’t appraise her so they may not have known who it was. I didn’t want to risk them finding out about Fallon.
Her rare power was a prize for the wrong type of person.
“What’s that?” I asked, letting my eyes relax and go extra glossy.
The Percy’s grew limpid for just a moment and I notched a win for my unassuming presence. “A scarce magic indeed. We’re scholars of magic in our sect. We never miss a chance to learn something new.”
And do what with it? Fallon, always with the sharp next question.
“I’m afraid we’re just simple wolves here. No exciting magic unless you like to chase sticks.” They didn’t seem the type to know what to do with Old Magic.
The head monk all but tisked. “Well, take the cookies anyway. We’ll be back to ask you how they were.”
That was a good threat, Fallon said.
I bowed my head. “We will have to politely decline. Watching the waistline and all that.”
Fallon stepped forward and it was all I could do not to snatch her back.
Her smile was determined. “I’ll take one.”
The female monk grimaced but did her best to turn it into an equally stiff smile. Fallon’s magic filled the air, my skin twitching with it.
They might be poisonous, I warned Fallon.
Good thing I know my way around food.