14. Caught You
CAUGHT YOU
GAbrIEL
“Come at me again,” Wren demands, passing her blade from one hand to the other. She’s holding the dagger as if she’s been fighting for years, not days, and a proud smile tugs on my lips. “I want to try to block you.”
We stopped in this clearing a few minutes ago, and Wren dismounted on her own.
She’s been getting better on the horse, more natural with each passing day.
The moons are shining, the skies are clear, and the stars are twinkling as they look down on us.
Wren’s braid trails over her left shoulder, and her hood is down.
A week and a half has passed since we left The Ivory Spoon, and we have settled into a new routine. During the day, we hide from prying eyes and try to sleep. At night, we ride hard, our destination growing ever nearer. At least, I think it is.
My plan is simple: find the rebels and ask them to help Wren.
She needs to be out of harm’s way, somewhere the king can’t find her, a place where she can learn about her magic.
The rebels are her best bet. The problem is that since the king has always crushed rebellions the moment they pop up, I’m working with scraps of information on how to find them.
So far, the only sign of their presence has been a sigil etched in trees—a wilting rose. Small and inconspicuous enough that wandering eyes wouldn’t notice it, they haven’t been easy to find. The sigils are appearing closer together, a sure sign we’re approaching our destination.
I know this is the rebels’ symbol because two years ago I hunted an escaped rebel who had the wilted rose tattooed on his neck.
Cedric Stone is etched into my memory, not only because of his tattoo, but because of the curses he spewed as I returned him to the prison he had fled from.
He swore that there was more going on, that he was something called an Inherited, but even as he vowed to escape again, I’d given his words little thought.
But now that I know the truth about what happens to the Given, I wonder if there’s something more to what he was saying.
A problem for another time.
“Come on, Gabe,” Wren taunts, pulling my attention back to her. Her knees are bent, her shoulders are back, and even though she hasn’t been training for long, she’s beginning to carry herself like a fighter. “Afraid I’ll hurt you?”
I laugh, palming my own dagger. “Not with that.”
Physically, I don’t think she could hurt me even if she managed to make me bleed. At least, nothing permanent.
But my heart, on the other hand . . .
I’m in danger of losing it to Wren. The longer she and I are together and the more I learn about her, the more pieces of my vital organ she takes. I’m not sure she’s aware she’s doing it, but at this rate, it won’t be long before I’ll have given her every part of it.
I should probably be upset about that, but I’m not.
Wren is beautiful, but her looks aren’t why I’m falling for her. She is loyal, smart, a quick study, and enjoyable to be around. She has a heart for animals and people—that much was made clear when she took care of Mist and me after Hedran’s attack, applying blessed salve to help us heal.
I’m fairly certain Mist likes Wren more than me now. When I woke up earlier, the two of them were cuddling. My familiar has never been domestic, but it’s clear she’s willing to put that aside for a small piece of Wren’s attention.
Right now, Mist is out patrolling, giving us time to train. My bonded familiar and I are both on edge—we have been ever since we left the inn. Even though we have successfully avoided people so far, every so often, I feel eyes on us. I can never find the source, though.
We won’t be able to avoid others forever. Our supplies are finite, and we’re going to run out soon. All I can hope is that we reach our destination before then.
Wren quirks a brow. “What I’m hearing you say is I need a bigger weapon.”
“You think you’re ready for that?”
She circles me, grinning. “Maybe. You tell me.”
“Eventually. You’re paying attention, right?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Remember—” I start to say. “A distracted warrior is a dead warrior,” she finishes with me. The mantra is one I’ve gone over with her time and again since we started these lessons.
Heat suffuses my chest, knowing that she’s been listening.
I mirror her movements, easily falling into this familiar dance. I’ve been training with weapons ever since I could walk, and it feels as natural as breathing.
Wren’s eyes are glued to me as she tries to anticipate my movements. Watching. Waiting. The first time we practiced her defensive tactics, I had her pinned to the ground in less than a minute. But she didn’t give up. Instead, she got to her feet and asked to go again.
So we did.
I feign lunging at Wren before changing direction, coming at her left. She moves away. I follow. She steps back, and I come at her.
Each of her movements is quick, becoming more instinctual with every passing day.
I thrust my dagger, and her arm rises. Our blades clash, and I grin as she pushes back against me, stopping me from coming closer. Wren’s chest heaves, and her teeth are gritted. Determination shines in her beautiful eyes.
“Good job, little bird.” The praise comes easily, and the flush of her cheeks has me wanting to draw that look from her every day. “That was your fastest block yet.”
“It was good, but not great,” she says, panting.
“These things take time. Practice and patience. You’ll get there.”
Wren’s eyes move from where our daggers meet to my face, her lips pinched together. Her Mark pulses, and a moment later, she steps back. Shakes her head. “What if we don’t have a lot of time? What if your nightmares come true?”
They’ve been haunting me, these warnings from the king. They’re all the same. The crimson dragon. Burning flames. Wren screaming and being taken from me.
He’s searching for us; I can feel it in my bones.
“I promised to protect you, and I am a man of my word.” Lifting my blade, I incline my head. “And as for time, we shouldn’t waste a second.”
Wren adjusts her stance and exhales. “Again?”
I make a “come here” gesture with my free hand. “Again. Come at me, little bird. Show me what you can do.”
And she does.
“You’re such a good horse, do you know that?” Wren’s soft voice reaches me as I approach her on silent feet.
She’s standing in a small cluster of trees, running a brush down Chaos’s flank. Like Mist, the horse seems enamored with Wren. If she tried to braid the gelding’s mane, I’m fairly certain he’d allow her the privilege without uttering a single complaint.
“I used to think that riding was awful, but I’m getting used to it,” Wren murmurs.
Her hood and cloak are on, hiding her indigo hair and Mark from view. Snow has been lightly falling for hours, since midday, but the nearby mountains shield us from the worst of the weather.
I’m less concerned about the forecast and more about the state of our supplies. It’s been nearly three weeks since we left the inn, and we have enough food to last us three more days if we stretch it.
Unless we find the rebels soon, we’re going to have to risk going into town and buying supplies. I don’t like the idea of endangering Wren like that, but we may not have any other choice.
For now, I’ll continue throwing everything I have into training Wren. She’s getting faster every day, and her movements are becoming more fluid. Her Mark has flared a few times during our sparring sessions, but she hasn’t been able to summon her magic on purpose yet.
She’ll get there, as long as she can keep practicing.
Time is one of our worst opponents right now.
I am acutely aware that winter is marching on, and before we know it, another Giving Season will be upon us.
I’m not sure what we’ll do then, but I will do my best to prepare Wren for anything that comes our way.
To that end, I draw my dagger and weave through the trees. Careful about where I put my feet, I distribute my weight evenly so I don’t make a sound.
Wren is still speaking quietly to Chaos, her gentle tone one I’ve only heard her use around animals and her sisters.
“I left Truffle at home.” She pauses, and even though I can’t see her, I can visualize her bottom lip disappearing as she chews on it. “Well, I suppose it’s not my home anymore. I can’t go back.”
I pass an evergreen tree, the branches brushing against me.
Chaos blows air through his nose, and Wren sighs heavily. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sure the king has soldiers stationed around Grenbloom waiting for me.”
I peer around a massive oak. Wren is still facing Chaos, her hand continuing its steady, sweeping movements as she brushes his flank.
“Even so, I think you would’ve liked Truff. She’s so sweet and cute. Adorable, really.” Chaos whinnies, and she chuckles. “Yes, exactly. Unlike a certain Hunter, who thinks he’s being sneaky but really isn’t.”
Before my brain can catch up with Wren’s words, she is already spinning around. Her Mark flares beneath her hood, a brilliant, blinding blue. She drops the brush, and it falls into the snow, forgotten.
I follow the movement before I realize that’s what she wanted. My eyes rise as Wren rams into me. “Oomph,” I grunt as she shoves me against a tree, pressing her arm against my neck.
Eyes gleaming, she grins. The tip of her dagger is pointed at my throat, and she beams up at me. “Caught you, Gabe.”
I’ve never been so pleased to be trapped.
“Yes, you did.” I drag my gaze from her eyes to her mouth, and it’s like all the air disappears from my lungs. I can’t breathe, but who needs breath when they’re faced with the gorgeous woman who has been haunting their dreams?
Moving slowly so I don’t nick myself on Wren’s dagger, I slide my blade in its sheath. Her eyes darken, but she doesn’t move. I lift my hand slowly, wrapping my fingers around her wrist. Suns, she’s so fucking breakable, this gods-blessed of mine, and it makes me want her more.