Chapter 23
Declan
Sleeping next to her was pure torture. Not even my wolf form buffered me against the whipsaw feelings Fallon broadcast across the bond.
Fear, resolve, worry, embarrassment, love, and resentment continued to cycle to me, then back to her as every change morphed hope into despair.
It was so awkward to want to yell at her and comfort her at the same time.
Why couldn’t she have performed a dramatic exit after her decision to destroy me?
That’s how it happened in countless versions of my books. No one had to stew in their decisions.
Fallon touched my fur-covered back in the dark and it was pure pain when I knew I would never feel it again. I flinched away from her. She withdrew her hand. Sleeplessness continued in a liminal fog.
The hard night finally ended as the first light raised the curtain of dawn.
My eyes swelled with unshed tears. I wouldn’t make this harder on her.
She would always be my mate and the existing bond would let me know she was alive.
I didn’t dare picture her with someone else or I really would tear apart the Harrowlands before she ever set foot out the door.
Fallon’s pack weighed a thousand pounds.
I had arranged a carriage to meet us at Sombermane’s border but I was still going to load her down with a ridiculous amount of food.
What if she hit a pothole and broke an axle?
What if she wasn’t warm enough? I had already requested the Old Magic hide as much salve as possible at the bottom of the bag.
Could I lure her back for more of it? My thoughts scattered like snowflakes in every direction, the darkness of my monster threatening to consume me.
Briggs took the pack from me to heave it by the door. “You’re an idiot. Mate bite her and she’ll have to stay.”
That attitude was why I left here. I wouldn’t force Fallon to love me. I could only prove she wasn’t in a cage by opening the door. The rings around Fallon’s eyes and the slump of her shoulders looked as tired as I felt. I really had no sense of self-preservation, just like Ned.
As I went to make some tea, I noticed the stove wasn’t lit. The coals from yesterday had nearly cooled. I had heard Marco come to the house last night. It seemed we all needed some comfort after the fight in the kitchen. Momma probably slept in.
I would make this last morning as normal as possible.
Toast for everyone kept my hands busy. Briggs set jam and juice on the table.
Eilie got the butter from the cold storage.
I gave Cosomo the eye until he found some berries to set in a bowl in the center of the table.
When I took my chair, a cup of crocotta sat in front of every wolf.
The longer I spent in Nightfell, the more I could feel the tides of the rest of the pack.
My siblings were the easiest to read. They didn’t take the gesture of a morning meal for granted.
Others might see some plates of humble food, but the wolves at the table saw my thanks in caring for their needs.
It was the right thing to stay, even though it tore me in two.
“Is she up yet?” I asked. “Momma will miss saying goodbye even if she grumbles.”
I looked at Briggs.
She looked back at me.
I gazed at Cosomo.
He stared at Briggs.
Eilie just made a face and threw up her hands. “Not it.”
“We’ve had to deal with Marco the entire time you’ve been gone. It’s your turn,” Briggs complained.
“Me!?” I said.
Briggs slapped her hands on the table. “You’re the oldest.”
“And you’re the worst,” I fired back, a little sharper than I meant to. The laugh I tried to cover it with came out jagged. When every eye measured me, I was suddenly grateful to have an excuse to leave the kitchen.
I would rather make myself into a wolf-skin rug than disturb Momma while she was with a lover. But I wouldn’t chicken out now. I dragged my feet to the end of the hall, to the largest set of rooms, and knocked politely.
“Momma, are you decent?”
Please let Marco be gone. While I didn’t begrudge my Momma any happiness she might find, even if it wasn’t with her fated mate, that didn’t mean I needed an eye full of her prowess in bed.
I tapped again in case she hadn’t heard me. Nothing. Not a rustle of fabric or an inappropriate moan. All of my intent sharpened and the Old Magic responded on its own. A gentle breeze drifted in my direction and only old scents came my way. Not even a heartbeat on the other side of the door.
I crashed into the room and stood stunned by the open window and a dead, cold-eyed Marco sprawled on the floor. I hadn’t meant that gone.
Bursting out of the back room, I sounded the alarm. My siblings only had a moment of horror before they were searching the space, scenting the trail, calling for a search party. I threw a sheet over poor Marco.
“We need to go while it’s still fresh,” I told the pack, attempting calm while a hundred voices squabbled in my mind at once.
The scent of rusted nails wouldn’t leave my nose.
I would kill every last Follower of Virtue with my bare hands.
My heart crumpled in my chest. Here I thought they wanted Fallon, when they aimed for a more vulnerable feastweaver.
This was all my fault. I should have been more vigilant.
Getting caught up in my mate had led to disaster.
“We’re taking Fallon. I won’t risk leaving her if they come back and decide they need her too.”
Fallon walked into the bedroom, dread setting her features. I skidded to a stop before her.
I grabbed both her shoulders to brace her for this. “They took Momma.”
“Holy Godds, Dec. I… I…”
I could already hear her words. “This is not your fault. They grow too bold. We have a lead and we’re going to hunt them now.”
She shook her head. “How can I help?”
Not even a hesitation, despite the dark circles ringing her eyes. My love for her took me by surprise all over again.
“You help by staying safe by my side.” I gave her a hard look.
“Trust me, Dec. I’m not a hero. I’ll sit in a tree if you want. Promise.”
Though I needed her accounted for, I wouldn’t see her hurt in the process.
Running out to the back barn, I found a horse’s saddle and dropped to my knees. Praying to the Old Magic was like greeting a friend. Strength, courage. Old Magic didn’t necessarily need words. It was more elementary than that.
Curling around the seat and buckles, the Old Magic transformed the saddle into a tangle of leather that would fit my wolven form.
I carried it back to the house, meeting the search party halfway.
All but those that would guard Nightfell were baying for blood.
At least Briggs had dressed Fallon warmly, because the murder in my mate’s eye said she would have gone running out into the snow in nothing but her nightgown, kitchen knife and cast-iron pan in hand.
“Does someone have the trail?” I shouted into the milling crowd.
“I do,” Cosomo confirmed.
“Scout ahead. I will catch up.”
The wolves churned the fresh snow as I got ready to shift, but my bark got them moving. I was faster than any of them and could easily find them again.
Briggs held Fallon’s seat for me.
“You too,” I told her.
“A saddle, Declan?” she asked.
I removed my clothes and tossed them toward the back stoop. “Even if I felt any, my embarrassment is hardly the most pressing issue right now.”
Briggs cocked her head.
“What?” I asked.
“I wasn’t sure what it would be like when you became King, but it’s different. Nice.”
People had said that too often to me not to have a note of hurt creep into my voice. “I am that.”
Briggs wrinkled her nose. “It’s not an insult, brother. We wolves aren’t known for our niceness but we sure could use it. Dad was…”
We both knew how he was and it was still hard to talk about. When you were more afraid of what he would say than when he would hit you, it stayed with you.
“I can only be me.”
She enveloped me in a hug. “That’s more than enough.”
Briggs and I had always been the closest, since we were of a similar age. She didn’t really understand why I had to leave Nightfell, but her welcome back was the balm I didn’t know I needed.
Fallon waddled over. “Help! I don’t think I can move if there’s danger.”
“Okay, one less layer.” Briggs said.
Briggs took the extra cloak and Fallon cheekily shed one more coat as I shifted. The Old Magic swirled inside me, feeding on my heightened rage. The monster slunk and clawed to be let out fully, but Fallon’s “Yeah, pony!” as she saw the saddle Briggs strapped to me, kept him sane.
With my mate’s enthusiasm, we could survive anything, even a long-distance relationship. She stepped up into the saddle, nestling into the seat.
Hold on, I told her. Rearing up like a pony, Fallon whooped with joy and I wondered how I would endure without the echo of her laughter in my ear.
We raced through the forest. The trackers led us back to the Dell we had searched a thousand times. Despite the destruction I brought last time, a few green shoots peeked through the blackened ring I had formed along the stream.
Fallon’s grimace didn’t make me feel any better about poisoning the forest. It was hard to see past the desolation. I didn’t know how we would be successful this time but I trusted the Old Magic to provide an answer.
We milled around a small clearing. Fallon dismounted, pushing through wolf bodies so she could touch the ground. She looked at me with a question in her eyes.
I thought I could starve them out if they had no resources.
“Everyone stop trampling everything!” She shouted into the small glade.
The entire pack freezing was quite a sight. It put a bone-deep smile on my face. How did Fallon think she couldn’t be Alpha? My saunter tried to be casual as I blocked everyone’s view of her heart-shaped ass as she bent over a new wild onion sprout.
“Don’t worry, Dec, it will come back.” She coaxed the bud with a bit of her magic and it grew straight and strong.
Wait, Honey.
“Dec.”