Chapter 17 Wards We Choose
WARDS WE CHOOSE
Morning broke cold and clear, frost turning brittle grass to crystal. The sky bled pale violet, the kind of color that warned of storms, and the wind dragged at her cloak as if even the land disapproved.
The stables waited. Five horses stamped and steamed in the cold, their flanks heaving clouds into the dawn.
Jakobav went straight to the largest: black-coated, leather-strapped, power coiled in every line, like a beast waiting for war.
He adjusted the bridle with a focus so controlled it hushed the air.
Sleeves rolled, ink flowing down his arms in symbols too old for speech, veins drawn tight beneath his skin.
“First Guard…this is Ella. She’s coming with us.”
Maeren sat already mounted, sleek black braid hanging over her shoulder like a weapon disguised as hair.
One hand on her hip, the other twirling a dagger as if boredom might strike harder than metal.
Ella recognized her immediately, remembering that brief glimpse from the time she’d been wedged against Jakobav in the furs, when Maeren had delivered her report.
Heat pricked Ella’s throat at the memory of being pressed against him, the way it made her skin tingle and thoughts tangle.
“Welcome,” Maeren said. A subtle glint flickered in her eyes, almost amusement. “Try to keep up,” she said, tone cutting.
Ella gave her a single nod in return and took a closer look around the stables. Two men lingered by the tack benches. One was tall and muscular, the other massive, and he gave her a half smile when he noticed her watching.
She could tell Jakobav had already told his Guard about her joining them on this ride by the way that no one seemed surprised to see her.
“Well, well.” His voice rumbled low, rich, a sound that seemed to vibrate in the floor. He strode forward with a swagger that bent gravity, each step rolling like distant thunder. “The little fox returns.”
Ella blinked. “I’m sorry…have we met?”
He clutched his chest like she’d wounded him. “Thane Ironfell. East wall, gate duty. You slipped past me like a whisper of chaos. A lesser man would’ve been offended. I was aroused.”
“Delighted,” Ella said dryly.
“You should be. You humiliated the Guard, gutted Savina, and landed me two positions higher in command for a week. Should’ve been permanent, if you ask me.” He grinned, and the dimple in his cheek threatened to undo her resolve.
Ella bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling back.
Thane was…dangerous in a different way, all sun-warmed muscle and irreverent grin.
Not scored with scars like Jakobav, though he didn’t need them.
Trouble clung to him like a second skin, or so it seemed.
Mischief danced behind his eyes when he spoke, reckless and knowing, as though the world had been built to notice him.
“You’re telling me you were guarding the entrance and still let me slip past you?” she asked.
“You floated,” he said, deadly serious. “Like a breeze carrying murder. One second the wind stirred, next second, gone. The trees still talk about you.”
Maeren snorted. “Ignore him. He offers every girl Fae wine and dramatic compliments. Thinks a decent vocabulary makes him irresistible.”
“Hmm, well, I don’t trade secrets for booze,” Ella replied, arms crossed. “Even if I could use a stiff drink after dealing with your future king.”
“Blasphemy,” Thane gasped, a grin already tugging at his mouth.
Jakobav walked past and cuffed the back of Thane’s head without looking. “Stop flirting.”
“Come on now, Jake, I’m not flirting,” Thane said with a grin. “Just thanking her for improving morale.”
Jakobav didn’t respond. He only nodded toward the last man, hooded and cloaked in charcoal, his gloved hands folded in silence.
“This is Soren,” Jakobav said. “He sees everything but says almost nothing.”
Soren inclined his head slightly, but remained silent, as promised. His eyes, pale gray and unblinking, met Ella’s like fog meeting glass.
“Charmed,” she said carefully.
He blinked once. Nothing more.
A clatter of hooves snapped her attention as another rider rounded the corner of the stable with feline grace, reined to a stop, and swung down in one liquid motion, leveling Ella with a gaze sharp enough to cut.
Fuck. Savina.
Ella’s breath lodged in her throat. She hadn’t seen the woman clearly the night she’d broken into the castle and opened her stomach with a single slash. Now, in daylight, it was impossible to look anywhere else.
Savina was ruin made flesh.
White-blonde curls spilled down her back like coiled lightning, wild and unforgiving. Her armor hugged a body built for war, for speed, for beauty that promised lethal consequences and dared you to crave them anyway.
Ella’s stomach twisted. She remembered the blood, the wound, the devastation she had caused. There was no universe where Savina was fully healed—and guilt punched cold beneath her ribs.
Savina’s eyes flicked to hers, bright and unblinking, and in that single look Ella understood one thing with perfect clarity.
She intended to carve that debt back into Ella’s skin the first chance she got.
“Well,” Savina said coolly, “I didn’t expect the girl who gutted me to ride with us. Figured you’d at least look regretful.”
Ella opened her mouth, but no words came.
Thane looked far too entertained, his shit-eating grin widening. “Savina, meet Ella. Ella, meet the woman who lost her command for six days and has been threatening revenge every hour since.”
Savina’s gaze didn’t move. “You should’ve killed me when you had the chance.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill anyone,” Ella said softly.
Savina’s eyes narrowed. “Then you failed twice.”
Tension filled the air, broken only by Maeren’s sigh as she nudged her horse forward.
“Grudges can wait for the ride back,” she said. “The Veil won’t hold its breath for backhands.”
Jakobav mounted, leather creaking under his weight. “Weapons ready. We move fast.”
Ella swung into the saddle, hands trembling faintly. The horse shifted beneath her as she adjusted her cloak.
She glanced at everyone around her and noticed the ink, the steel, the strange affection masked as mockery. These weren’t just guards. They were constellations in his sky. Fixed, dangerous, burning in their own way. She was pulled into their orbit.
Maeren arched a brow. “Just to be clear, and because our guest here has a habit of stabbing people, if Jakobav dies on this mission, I get command of First Guard. That’s what we agreed on, right?”
Jakobav didn’t look up. “That was a joke.”
“Not to me.”
Thane grinned. “She’d hate it. Too many scrolls. Not enough skulls.”
“I’m excellent at delegation,” Maeren said sweetly. “I haven’t personally broken anyone’s fingers in weeks.”
“Because Jakobav forbade it,” Thane muttered.
She beamed. “Exactly. Restraint.”
Jakobav didn’t join their games. His gaze never left Ella, steady and relentless, like he was memorizing the exact moment she would falter. Whatever game Thane and Maeren played, she knew she was the only opponent Jakobav saw.
Ella exhaled, shaking her head. The First Guard reeked of unhinged madness and loyalty. “Should I be concerned?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Maeren said sweetly, sliding the dagger back into its sheath with practiced flair. “But don’t worry. There are at least four of us who don’t wish to split you open.” She smirked and flicked her brows upward. “Right, Commander?”
Jakobav cleared his throat and shot Maeren a warning glare.
Maeren’s innuendo landed low, and for one treacherous heartbeat, she didn’t hear it as a threat at all. A flush crept, unwanted and shameful.
She locked her face back into defiance.
Jakobav shifted in his saddle, his words a dare delivered with dark amusement. “Rile her at your own peril. She’s armed. I gave her the knife.”
Thane barked out a belly laugh, delighted. “Gods, I like her even more.”
Savina started to speak, but Jakobav cut her off with a single decisive wave of his hand.
“Enough,” Jakobav said. “Let’s move. We’ll reach the outer ridge before dusk.”
They rode out together, the forest parting before them like it knew better than to stand in the way. These were Jakobav’s most trusted circle of guards, maybe even friends, if that was possible for Dravaryns, and she was riding straight into their fold.
Even as they rode, she couldn’t escape her thoughts about the artifact buried within the castle—and the mission that had brought her here. But when the trees opened and the wind cut across her cheeks, Jakobav leading this circle felt inevitable, like the realm itself aligning.
Something deep inside her insisted: this is the path I'm meant to take.