Chapter 38
ANOTHER WAY
KAL HAD EXPECTED TO WITHDRAW after unveiling Karrick’s identity to his female companion. He knew himself. Emotional detachment had become a practiced skill, one he wielded over the years with subconscious efficiency.
But that hadn’t been the case. Not with Kitty. Not with Felíne.
Against all expectation, his unburdening of that damnable secret had ignited a fire within him.
One that burned with staggering intensity.
He was like dry kindling amidst her ignition spark.
Utterly consumed. Kal wanted to know every detail of her life.
Every facet of information he could get his hands on.
Not because he needed it to further an agenda, not because it brought him closer to some intangible goal, but simply because he craved the connection to her.
Each little insight she fed him fortified his intent and renewed his determination to find another way.
There had to be another way.
Because Kal knew with overwhelming certainty that he could not let her go.
He would not give her back. And Felíne’s conviction to return only heightened his obstinacy.
She didn’t want the responsibility that the circumstances of her birth had thrust upon her.
Hers was a spirit longing for freedom, yet obligated to duty.
Kal wouldn’t allow her to be a martyr for their race. Not if he could help it.
They spent hours in his basement. Nights poring over texts, rifling through scrolls, combing through lines of barely legible information. It all led back to the curse. Always the same damned thing.
A female will be born who will lack a second form. She will be called the Prima. All born after her, male and female alike, will be sterile. They will bear the seal of this curse as a mark upon their flesh.
The lastmark.
There is one way to break the curse. The Primordial Male, a male set apart, from the Godking’s strongest line, may bestow upon the Prima an heir. Their fruitful coupling shall be the only way to undo what has been done.
One way to break the curse. One fucking way. It didn’t matter which translation Kal read. They all said the same thing.
The only way the curse shall be broken…
The sole means of breaking the Goddess’s curse…
Only a successful coupling shall dissolve the curse…
She must bear him an heir, or the curse shall persist…
One evening, after Felíne had fallen asleep curled at his side, Kal had shoved a scroll from his lap with such force that he’d damaged the delicate pages.
He’d even gone through his family’s histories, trying to see if there was some mistake that had been made. How did they know Karrick was the Primordial Male? If there was even a chance they’d been wrong…
But no. He had birth records from Brightsea’s archive that Adder had obtained at Kal’s behest years ago.
They all marked Karrick as the Primordial Male.
The undying scepter on Brightsea’s northernmost tower, a twin to the one in Asteros, had been struck by lightning upon the Primordial Male’s birth.
Kal had grown up seeing that flame. He just hadn’t realized its significance was so close to home until he’d learned about Karrick.
They couldn’t stop looking. There had to be something. So, they’d looked.
Kal continued to train Felíne in weapons in the glen by day.
Her endurance slowly increased. Her wounds healed.
They practiced horsemanship. They ate together beneath Stillwater’s verdant canopies, sprawled on soft beds of autumn grass and wildflowers, and stole slow kisses before his hearth, the heat from the fire paling in comparison to the one Felíne lit within him.
They spent their nights in the basement reading a hundred versions of the same thing, both silently hoping to stumble upon a single variant.
“We’re running out of time, Kal,” Felíne had said one evening. She’d rubbed her eyes, weariness stealing over her features. “My presentation is weeks away. We can’t continue searching for something we may never find.”
He didn’t know what to say to her.
At one point, late in the night, someone had visited the cabin. He’d heard the knocking. Kal had been engrossed in a text about the elder’s city, Doceo, and was loath to disturb Felíne, who’d fallen asleep with her head on his lap. So, he ignored it. Eventually, whoever it was left.
On the sixth day of finding nothing useful, Kal knew he could no longer ignore present circumstances.
“I need to go see Saul.”
Felíne’s eyes flickered with barely concealed apprehension, but she nodded. “When?”
“Today.”
Kal retreated to his bedroom to wash and dress. He found Felíne on the porch. She leaned against the railing, honey-lichen eyes gazing into the quiet early morning. He stood for a moment, watching her, until movement to the right drew his attention.
“What is that?”
Felíne glanced over. “Grim’s bed.”
“Who’s what?”
The black wolf that stalked Kal’s property lay curled on a pallet of blankets—blankets that looked suspiciously like the ones from the chest near the hearth inside—tucked against the house. Round yellow eyes studied him from the plush folds. They looked guilty.
“Grim. Your wolf.”
“You named him?”
Felíne gave him a look. “Of course, I named him. Why didn’t you?”
“Why would I?”
She paused. “You named me.”
Kal startled, unexpected heat spreading through his chest. Kitty. “I suppose I did.” He looked back at… “Grim?”
Color blossomed in Felíne’s cheeks. “Exposure therapy,” she explained. “The grim frightens me. I figured attaching its name to something that doesn’t would help me get over the fear.”
“You will never have to face another grimalkin, Kitty.” If Kal had his way, she’d never face another danger alone. Not ever.
She offered him a weak smile and changed the subject. “How long will you be gone?”
“I’ll be back by nightfall,” Kal said. He planned to visit Saul directly and avoid the rest of the Conclave. He wasn’t worried about Beulah, but other members would be better confronted once their unspoken leader was fully on Kal’s side.
Just then, Adder strode into the clearing, drawing a curious look from Felíne. Kal leaned over her with a grin. “You thought I’d leave you without capable company?”
She glowered. “You mean, did I think you’d trust me to stay put without someone babysitting me?”
“Kitty, baby, you think too little of me.”
She scoffed as Adder approached, and Kal laughed.
“Morning, mate,” Adder greeted. “Felíne, love.”
Felíne tossed Kal a saccharine smile and looped her arm through Adder’s. “On second thought,” she said over her shoulder, dragging her unsuspecting accessory toward the door, “thank you. I much prefer Devereux’s company.”
Kal caught her about the waist, pulling her away from Adder and flush against his body. He nosed her temple. “Are you trying to provoke me, Kitty?”
She shivered, and Kal inhaled against her hair. “No,” she breathed.
“Is that what I have to do to make you agreeable? Call you love?” He blew softly over the shell of her ear. “Felíne, love?”
Felíne pushed away from him with some difficulty and cleared her throat. She palmed the gold chain around her neck, zipping the coin back and forth the way she did when anxious or overly distracted.
Kal couldn’t deny the rise he got out of vexing her. Suddenly, he regretted inviting Adder to the cabin. He wanted her alone. Now.
Felíne must have noticed the change in Kal’s expression because she gave a heroic effort at nonchalance. “We’ll, ah, have dinner ready when you get back.”
Kal tilted his head to one side, lips twitching skyward. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
Adder quirked a brow. “Why wouldn’t it be wise?”
“Shall I warn Adder about the potatoes?”
Felíne glared. “That is not necessary.”
“I think it’s necessary,” Adder said. “What’s wrong with the potatoes?”
Kal clapped a hand affectionately on his friend’s shoulder. “Just mind her seasoning and you’ll be fine. Wouldn’t want to come home and find you naked, making snow angels in the front lawn.”
“Naked…” Silver brows wrinkled. “There’s no snow, mate.”
“Precisely. Consider yourself warned.”
The look of concern that stole over Adder’s features pulled a bark of laughter from Kal’s throat.
“Oh, for the love of mercy,” Felíne muttered darkly. She turned her back on both of them and disappeared into the house.
Kal was fortunate to find Saul in residence.
The unofficial leader of the Conclave was a quiet man who forwent a larger home in the heart of Meress’s bustling center in favor of a simple stone cottage on the edge of town.
Though one could hardly call it a home, as the man rarely spent time there.
Since the death of his wife years before, Saul tended to occupy his hours working on various projects in the city and spent frequent nights sleeping on a cot in one of the upstairs rooms in the Conclave’s house of operations.
Today, however, and thank Kal’s lucky stars, he was home.
Saul cracked his front door and visibly startled when he saw who’d knocked. “Get in here, you fool,” he hissed, glancing about. “Did anyone see you?” He didn’t wait for a response before pulling Kal inside.
Kal stopped short, fully assessing Saul’s appearance. The man looked terrible. Deep bruise-like crescents flanked his lower lids, his chestnut eyes were dull, and his usually golden-hued skin was the color of day old milk.
The few times Kal had been inside Saul’s home, it had been tidy though sparsely decorated.
Now, while appearing equally under-inhabited, a fine layer of dust coated the few pieces of furniture, and a dozen scrolls lay scattered about the kitchen table.
Kal dragged his finger across the mantle and rubbed the grit between his fingertips.
“Are you having a midlife crisis, Saul?”