Chapter Twenty-four
WILDER
‘ F uck,’ Wilder muttered to himself as he stalked through the slumbering campsite, his cock still raging hard, straining uncomfortably against his pants.
Those hooded eyes, that mouth , that peaked nipple between his teeth…
‘Fuck,’ he said again, spearing his fingers through his hair as he looked for something to hit, something to release that pent-up —
‘Rough night?’ Dratos grinned from where he sat smoking his pipe against a wall stacked with supplies.
‘Fuck off,’ Wilder snapped.
Dratos only grinned wider. ‘Sounds like you’ve got something on your mind, Warsword.’
‘Nothing I’d share with you.’
‘You don’t need to. It’s written all over your face.’
‘Have I told you that I prefer you in writing? You’re more bearable in your letters than in person.’
The winged ranger put a hand to his cheek in mock offence. ‘You wound me.’
‘I wish someone would.’
Dratos puffed away on his pipe. ‘That’s right. Get it all out, you moody bastard.’
Wilder shook his head in disbelief and sank against the wall, holding out his hand for the pipe.
Dratos handed it over with a look of delight.
‘You’re a fucking pain in the arse, you know that?’ Wilder said, taking a drag before coughing hard and thrusting the pipe back at his friend, eyes watering. ‘Fuck’s sake, Dratos. That’s not tobacco.’
Dratos frowned. ‘Why would I smoke tobacco? Tastes like shit.’ He took a hearty pull on the pipe, embers glowing in the bowl. ‘This here is the finest Naarvian grass a smile like mine can buy.’
Wilder spat the bitter taste on the ground. ‘You’re getting high? Now?’
‘Takes the edge off your vicious insults.’
‘It’ll take the edge off your fighting if we’re attacked.’
‘Nothing takes the edge off my fighting,’ he replied, with a pointed look at the shadows coiling at his back.
Wilder surveyed them warily. It was something he still hadn’t grown used to after all this time – that the darkness could wage war for them as well as against them.
‘You saw what they’re doing in that torture camp, then?’ Dratos prompted, studying his face. ‘You showed your feisty apprentice?’
Wilder nodded. ‘I saw, and I did.’
‘Good. She needs to know. Anya and Adrienne both say we need her and her magic onside for the war to come.’
‘That’s up to Thea.’
‘No shit. But I imagine you’ve got something to do with that.’
‘Maybe once… Not anymore.’ Wilder sighed heavily. There had not been a whisper of Thea’s magic, not in anger, not in desire. Nothing. It was as though it had been snuffed out, erased from the world itself. ‘I think we need to adjust our plans accordingly.’
Dratos blew out a long stream of smoke. ‘You think one storm wielder will be enough?’
‘It’ll have to be.’
‘What of the other sister, the alchemist?’
Wilder raised a brow. ‘You realise I’m not the official spokesperson for the Embervale family?’
Dratos shrugged. ‘Coulda fooled me.’ He kicked a satchel at his feet. ‘Anya said to give you this.’
Wilder didn’t recognise the bag, but rather the clothes and armour spilling out of it.
It was what he’d been wearing before he’d been stripped and thrown in the ice cell.
He couldn’t say he’d missed the shoddy breastplate and pauldrons, but he was always in need of more shirts, and he’d be glad if his belt was there. It had been Malik’s, once upon a time.
As he picked up the satchel, Kipp’s yellow kerchief fell to the ground by his boot. Scooping it up and stuffing it in his breast pocket, he almost laughed. The Guardian had been right; he’d certainly needed it again, though he’d not had the chance to use it. He’d bled a lot since that encounter.
‘That armour’s a pile of shit,’ Dratos declared, with a nod to the boiled leather peeking out of the bag.
‘I’ve noticed.’ Wilder rolled his eyes. ‘Where are we at with the rest of the forces?’
His friend’s expression changed. ‘Adrienne’s got the Naarvian rangers as prepared as they can be.
Anya’s spreading the word among the shadow-touched across the midrealms, but even with shadow magic, it’s taking longer than expected to gather willing fighters.
Not all of us have made our peace with this life. ’
Wilder nodded. He remembered what Talemir had been like in the early days. He’d hated his new form so much he’d nearly poisoned himself seeking a cure.
‘What of our resources? Steel and —’
‘Steel is a problem, as always. The Naarvian forge is being watched, as you can imagine. Mining the iron ore at the source is another issue. It’s not a quiet job.’ Dratos cleared his throat. ‘Our prince has the other efforts in hand.’
‘He’s your prince, not mine.’
Dratos waved him off. ‘You and your grudges, Warsword.’
Wilder ignored him. ‘When can we expect to make a stand?’
The ranger gave a hoarse laugh. ‘You bringing anything to the table? Besides your mood swings and muscles, I mean?’
‘I brought a soon-to-be Warsword.’
‘Great, and I brought my cousin Gus,’ Dratos replied drily. ‘Anything else?’
Wilder followed Dratos’ line of sight to the unruly mop of dark brown hair across the campsite.
He started. He’d briefly met the boy in Naarva, when he and Talemir had been assigned a mission there years ago.
Gus was not only Dratos’ cousin, but the orphan Adrienne and her friend Drue had all but adopted as a little brother of their own.
Along with several others, he’d been taken hostage by shadow wraiths. Tal and Wilder had helped rescue them.
Back then, Gus had barely been able to keep his balance because of the new wings at his back. Now, the only thing that told Wilder the teenager across the way was Angus Castemont was the knitted jumper he was wearing. Dratos was always complaining about his knitting habit.
‘Furies…’ Wilder muttered. ‘How old is he now?’
‘Nearly nineteen,’ Dratos said regretfully. ‘He’s a real prick most of the time.’
‘Wonder where he gets it.’
‘Fuck off.’
That forced a laugh out of Wilder at last before he returned to the conversation at hand. ‘I’ve got a team meeting us in two days’ time.’
‘A team? How mysterious.’
‘Gotta keep you on your toes.’
‘I’ve got several women doing that already, Warsword. Maybe save it for your pretty apprentice.’
Wilder heard himself growl. ‘Not another word about her, Dratos.’
Mischief danced in the ranger’s bottle-green eyes. ‘But you make it so much fun.’
Wilder gave him a half-hearted shove. ‘Have another toke.’
‘Oh, I fully intend to.’
Wilder left the winged ranger to his vices and wandered to the perimeter of the camp, starting a lap.
He didn’t trust himself to return to his tent, not with Thea there.
He had made the right decision, cooling things between them, or so he told himself.
It felt like there were far too many unspoken words, things that needed to be out in the open before they picked up where they had left off – if that was even possible at all, given what they’d been through.
He knew he’d hurt her, but… she’d hurt him, too.
He hadn’t dared to say it aloud, but now, as he paced the outskirts of the shadow-touched camp, he finally admitted it to himself.
As he walked, he tied himself in knots – then grew frustrated that he wasn’t in knots over the war to come, but over her.