Death Comes at a Price
GAbrIEL
I’m standing at the base of another mountain, this one not covered by snow but by sprawling fields of poppies, and my heart sinks. The season has changed, but everything else about this scene remains the same. I’ve lived it dozens of times in my nightmares over the past few months.
Wren is standing beside me, clutching a dagger. The blue sky is cloudless, and the suns mercilessly beat down on us. There is a dark speck in the sky, growing bigger with each flap of its wings.
I know how this will play out. No matter how many times I’ve tried changing the narrative, the result is always the same: Wren is taken, and it’s as painful as if my heart were ripped out of my chest.
Still, I will not let her go without a fight. Even though my sword has proven useless against the dragon thus far, I draw it.
Time is anomalous in this dreamscape. It moves slowly, and yet everything seems to blur together. I pull Wren in for a punishing, bruising kiss, hoping she can feel all the words that I don’t have time to convey. That she knows how much she means to me.
The dragon flies closer, and at the first glimpse of its rider, shivers cascade down my back. The king’s crown glints in the sunlight, and his eyes are brimming with rage. He speaks, likely demanding Wren be returned to him, but I don’t hear his words.
In the end, it doesn’t matter what he says or how angry he becomes. There is nothing I won’t do to keep him from Wren.
I wake with a silent scream, tangled in the sheets and cold sweat dripping down my neck. Wren’s arm is draped across my chest, the soft sounds of her breaths steadying as I work to ground my mind in reality.
A nightmare.
That’s all it was. Just a fucking nightmare.
Like every other time I’ve been plagued by that specific dream, it didn’t matter how hard I fought. The king still took Wren, but not before his dragon sliced my chest open, leaving me bleeding out in the field of poppies.
The ghost of that pain lingers, and my hand goes to my stomach, almost surprised to find it in one piece.
I know it wasn’t real, but it felt like it was. Tangible, almost. The colors had been brighter. The dragon’s roar, louder. The pain, more acute. It was like my heart had been torn from my chest, and even now, its beats don’t feel as strong.
Grandmother’s amulet is still hanging around my neck, but it’s losing its potency. Can the magic stored within it run out? What if one day, it stops working altogether and the king finds us?
What if I won’t be able to protect Wren?
The thought has my blood chilling, pushing sleep firmly out of reach. I open my eyes and glance out the window where the three glowing moons are slivers hanging in the sky. Dawn is still hours off.
Wren’s features are soft beside me, and a knot in my chest loosens at the sight. Thank the gods, I didn’t wake her up with my thrashing—she needs her rest. Soren and Jasper have been spending every spare moment they have teaching her the basics of magic.
Apparently, the process usually takes much longer, but they’ve crammed it into a fortnight. Wren has been a studious pupil, absorbing everything without a complaint.
Sliding back, I gently place Wren’s arm on the mattress before getting out of bed. Mist is sleeping near the front door, and she blinks sleepily at me as I pull on a pair of pants.
Fastening my belt, I bend, scratching the panther behind the ears. My arm is a little sore, a remnant of the injuries I suffered when we first came to the rebels. I have a feeling it’ll never truly go away. “I’m going to head out for a bit, okay?”
Silver eyes study mine.
“You’ll watch her?”
Mist’s gaze crawls over to the bed, then back to me before my chest warms. Yes, her eyes seem to say.
“Thank you.” I rub her head before standing and exchanging my sweat-soaked tunic for a long-sleeved black one. I pull it on and pick up my sword, which Alaric returned to me after I had woken, before casting one last look at the bed.
Wren has gathered my pillow to her chest, and she’s snoring softly. The rumbles fill the cabin, warming my chest more than any fire ever had. I cross the space, double-checking that her dagger is next to the bed before pulling up her blanket and kissing her forehead.
“I’ll be back soon,” I murmur.
She doesn’t reply, and I’m confident she’s still asleep as I slip out the door. I lock it behind me, sliding the key into my pocket. I don’t bother with a lantern—the moons will guide my way.
Our cabin is unguarded, a sign of the rebels’ growing trust. The air is cold as I walk into the forest, moving with purpose. My gaze sweeps through the trees, never staying in one spot for too long. I’m always on edge—a side effect of being a Hunter for so long.
Traces of my nightmare still niggle at the back of my mind, and I crane my neck, scanning the sky. Searching for any sign of my father, his eagle familiar, or the dragon.
There are none, but there is no relief to be found. The nightmare still has its claws in my mind, and Wren’s screams are echoing in my ears.
I walk a bit further, keeping my eyes trained above the treetops. The air glimmers in the moonlight, a constant, visible reminder of the net protecting the camp from the king.
Or at least, that’s what it’s supposed to do.
But my amulet is supposed to provide protection, too, and the nightmares keep slipping past. What if the net fails?
I can’t help but feel like this entire kingdom is unsafe for Wren. My horrific nightmares are proof that the king hasn’t forgotten about her. If anything, he’s growing more desperate than ever to apprehend her.
I cannot let that happen.
Strolling through the woods, hoping the fresh air will clear my mind and cast the remnants of my nightmare away, I begin making plans.
If Myreth is too dangerous for Wren, then we will leave it behind.
Preferably before the next Giving Season.
There are other lands beyond ours, and they must be better than this.
At the very least, they’ll distance us from my father.
I’m not a fool—I know Wren won’t leave the kingdom without her sisters. They’re young, and we still don’t know what the king had planned to do with his so-called honored guests.
I make a mental note to contact Maia and Theon.
They’ll need to travel to meet up with us.
Once they’ve arrived, we’ll have to get to the coast and find a ship that can carry all of us.
I’ll have to pay the captain to look the other way while a panther joins us on board.
It’ll be expensive but worthwhile to keep my bonded familiar with me.
I have some savings, but this will likely use most of them. Once we get to the other side, we’ll need funds to set ourselves up while I look for employment.
The first step is getting Wren’s sisters. Everything else will have to wait.
My head throbs, and I groan, leaning against a tree. Once, my biggest worry was my next hunt. Now, I’m juggling all of this. Sometimes, I can’t believe how much my life has changed.
After a few minutes, I resume my walk, mentally calculating how much money will be required to fund our escape when a branch snaps behind me. My hand flies to my hip, and I unsheathe my sword in a smooth movement, spinning around.
When I see who is behind me, my breath leaves me in a whoosh.
Alaric is a few feet away from me, his brow raised and fingers resting on the weapon at his side. We assess each other for a long moment before his hand falls away. Moments later, mine does as well, and I shake my head, relieved.
“Couldn’t sleep, Hunter?” he asks.
“Something like that.” I’m not sure whether it’s the silence of the night or the fact that Alaric was the first rebel to show me kindness, but I add, “I get . . . nightmares.” I roll my shoulders, trying to shake the lingering thoughts of the dragon. “You?”
“Patrol.”
I nod and start walking again, Alaric falling into step beside me.
The movement helps, reminding me that I’m alive and the dragon was nothing but a dream. If my humming bond with Mist is any sign, my gods-blessed is still asleep, and I find comfort in that. My familiar would warn me if something happened.
We stroll in silence for several minutes before Alaric says, “I get them, too.”
The admission rings through the night air.
“Oh?”
“My first kill. It . . . haunts me,” he confesses.
A rabbit darts out in front of us, and I shiver as memories of the first life I took flash before my eyes. The pained scream. The blood. The look of absolute shock in my victim’s eyes when they realized this was the end.
“I understand,” I say quietly. “It’s not like they teach us, is it?”
No one is ever prepared for that first kill or the way blood stains one’s soul.
The captain rakes a hand through his hair. “No, it never is.”
I make a sound of agreement in the back of my throat.
“They keep me awake at night,” Alaric says a short while later, breaking the silence that had settled between us. “Especially quiet ones, like tonight. In the silence, the dead are the loudest.”
“Do you see their faces? Or hear them?”
“Both,” he admits.
A beat passes. “Same with me,” I confess.
My soul is heavy, weighed down by the memories of those I’ve killed.
As cumbersome as they are, I cannot rid myself of them.
After all, it is my duty as the one who sent them to Adros to remember the dead.
I cling to their faces, committing them to my mind, knowing that in doing so, I am separating myself from the man who sired me.
I am certain the king is not burdened by the ghosts of those he killed. How could he be when they number in the thousands?
Keeping pace with me, Alaric murmurs, “Death comes at a price, and it is paid by the living.”
His voice is haunted, the tone one I’m far too familiar with.
“Indeed.” The word is heavy, and silence stretches between us for several long minutes. Save for a few owls and a pair of raccoons that cross our path, we don’t encounter anyone else.
It’s not until we reach an area where the glistening air above our heads seems brighter than the others that I stop. “The net.”
Alaric glances up, then back at me. “What of it?”
I cross my arms, studying the glimmer. The way it moves. The divide it creates between us and the rest of the world. “Soldier-to-soldier, how safe is it, really? How worried do I need to be for my mate?”
This is the first time I’ve said those words out loud to anyone else, claimed Wren in such a fashion, and it feels right. Our bond, incomplete though it may be, thrums in my chest.
Alaric cranes his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s made of magic, and it’s regularly reinforced.”
“But is it secure?” I press.
“We’ve never had an incident.” A vein in his jaw pulses, though.
“But . . .”
Alaric sighs, shrugging. “But it’s not infallible. Nothing is.”
“Could it be breached?”
“Maybe. It’s possible, I suppose.” He starts walking again and points into the distance where two shadows stand out from the rest of the forest. “The perimeter is patrolled twenty-four seven, and we are always watching for signs of an opening.”
His words are the opposite of reassuring, and unease swims inside me. “Do you trust it to keep your people out of harm’s way?”
The captain seems to mull over my words before he nods.
“As much as I trust anything or anyone.” He stops, clasping my shoulder and meeting my gaze.
“Look, you know as well as I do, nothing is ever completely safe. People like us learn that lesson early on, but it’s a universal truth.
All you can do is your best for the ones you love.
Everything else is out of your control.”
And isn’t that gods-damned awful?
Our conversation drifts to other things, but Alaric’s words stay with me long after he heads over to speak with one of the guards on duty, leaving me alone.
I wander for several more hours, replaying my conversation with Alaric until the first rays of sunlight paint the sky in pale pink and yellow, before returning to the cabin.
Mist blinks as I let myself in, and Wren is still asleep, clutching the pillow to her chest. Her features are peaceful in sleep, her Mark softly illuminating the room. Her chest rises and falls steadily, signaling that she lives, and her presence grounds me.
My chest thrums, the bond never truly quiet, and I drink in the sight of Wren. My mate. Seeing her here, at peace, is a reminder of how far we’ve come—and how far I’ll go to ensure she remains out of the king’s clutches.
After all, he cannot have her.
She is mine.