Chapter 15
Wren
The storm still rages above us, wind rushing along the top of the wall, tugging at hair and clothes.
Snow drifts across stone, filling in the grooves of boot prints where the soldiers fled.
Torryn’s heavy breath pours over me in steady, warm gusts that give a reprieve from the frigid temperature.
Outside the city’s doors, the tanks sit idling, reminding me that just because the soldiers were called off the wall doesn’t mean that those mechanical beasts were told to stand down.
My chest lifts with a deep inhale as the pressure of the moment threatens to overwhelm me. The earth is still rejecting me and I’m about to have to make it crystal clear to the four people I want to hurt least in this world that I can’t be with them for now.
As my eyes flutter closed for a moment, self-doubt and shame swirl within my mind. Did I truly walk away that day on the battlefield without saying a word to them because I thought there was no world in which they’d understand…or did I do it because I never wanted to face this moment?
My lids open and as I take in the kings standing here, deep into the human’s territory with no back up, clearly here for me, the answer is clear.
I never wanted to stare into their eyes and tell them I can’t choose them, after everything they’ve done for me—their patience, their welcoming acceptance into their factions, and their clear desire for me to choose them.
It was easier for me to run away and convince myself they’d never understand, but it was also cowardly.
As they each hold my stare, my heart pangs.
Of course they would have heard what I had to say.
My attention snags on Azyric. They might not have loved it, but it would have given them clarity and avoided whatever concern they’ve had for me that led them into the heart of their enemy’s territory for me right now.
Torryn’s golden eye stays fixed on me, so close I can make out the tiny fractures of color in his iris, the way the pupil flexes, narrowing and widening with each small shift of his attention.
His large head presses closer to me and I lift my palm back up to his snout, the warmth of him seeping into my chilled fingers, anchoring me to something familiar amid the mayhem.
It’s like he can feel my internal chaos, because of course he can. He’s always been that steady anchor for me, even when it was him simply existing quietly in his wolf form with me in that field.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I whisper, because part of me is still trying to convince myself this isn’t real.
His large chest puffs out on a slow inhale that feels like it pulls half the snow around us toward him.
Then he exhales in a warm, gusting huff, the sound almost like a sigh against my hand.
My head is already leaning toward him before I think it through, and when my forehead rests against his rough skin, all of my internal conflict eases for just that moment.
I can almost pretend that everything could just go back to the way it was between us before this moment.
Behind us, I hear boots shifting against the snow, breaking the bubble I desperately wanted to linger in longer.
“I need answers if you want me to continue to hold off my military,” Ryoden gruffly states.
When I glance over, his hands are clenched at his front.
His gun is holstered once again at his hip, ignored, as if he’s made a point to leave it there where everyone can see it isn’t in play.
I’m surprised the kings allowed him to grab it, not that it did him any good the first time he tried to pull it.
The light red marks from Riven’s fingers on his neck peek through in the small opening of his uniform's collar.
“You mean continue to hold off your time of death?” Riven snarls and I send him a warning glance that makes his infuriating smirk tug at his lips.
“Stop it, Riven,” I warn, cutting off Ryoden as he begins to rebut. “Ryoden is showing this situation far more respect than I think we deserve right now. The least we can do is be cordial for this brief moment.”
“Said like a queen,” Sylvin practically purrs.
Azyric chuckles and crosses his arms against his chest like his new favorite hobby is to watch me in the middle of a mess I created. My mouth parts to lash out at him, feeling wounded by his clear delight at my discomfort, but then I think better of it and snap my mouth shut.
The memory of his warm lips pressing against mine like he needed me to breathe plays through my mind and I have to tear my gaze away from him.
“I know you need answers,” I finally respond to Ryoden, nodding in agreement. “Will you allow me to finish up my unfinished business with these four first, please?”
He looks wildly out of place and perfectly like he belongs at the same time.
A single human man standing his ground in front of four beings who could tear him apart faster than he could blink, and he refuses to flinch.
That’s exactly who should be in charge of human forces—a human who doesn’t let his fear cloud his judgment.
My respect for Ryoden continues to grow, as well as my regret for giving him such little information because of my own fear of letting anyone in again.
A heavy sigh slips from the colonel’s mouth just as his hand lifts to pinch the bridge of his nose where the majority of his freckles lie.
When his hand falls back to his side, he nods and pins me with a heavy stare.
“Yes, but I can’t promise that my control of this army will last forever, Wren.
If they begin to feel that I’m sympathizing with the enemy, they will replace me in a moment and advance. ”
His tone is tight and concern bleeds through easily, causing my brow to scrunch.
It didn’t occur to me that that could happen, but when I think of the bad behavior I’ve witnessed of human military members, his rationale makes perfect sense.
He has their respect for now, but as I know, the human’s need to put themselves and their safety first is a slippery slope.
I swallow hard, once again humbled by his respectful concession. “I understand. Thank you for giving me this moment.”
Torryn pulls back just enough that I feel the absence of his warmth in my palm instantly.
He lifts his head, golden gaze flicking over the empty wall, then past me, seeming to assess the scene.
A moment later his large body begins to shimmer.
The dragon form collapses inward in a rush of magic, scales seeming to melt into themselves, bones shortening, wings folding into a human back.
For a heartbeat, he’s a silhouette of whirling bronze and green and shadow, and then a man drops to one knee where a dragon stood.
Torryn braces a palm on the stone, head bowed, chest heaving once, as if he’s just run a marathon.
His dark hair is damp and tangled, clinging to his forehead and neck, like the fire of his dragon remains within.
Broad shoulders rise and fall beneath skin that still seems to glow faintly with the echo of scales, and he’s completely, gloriously naked.
Once again it hits me how starkly different my feelings are on nudity now.
“Well then,” Ryoden mutters.
Heat surges into my face before I can stop it.
I drag my gaze upward on instinct and fail spectacularly, because there are a lot of distracting stops along the way.
Thick thighs with corded muscles. A large cock hanging between them.
Muscles bunching along his abdomen as he stands to his full height.
“Oh,” I mumble to myself, voice strangled, and force my eyes higher as fast as possible. “Right, uhm, okay. Clothes would be…good.”
A cool breeze brushes against my arm like a caress meant for me alone, distracting me briefly and pulling my attention to the winter fae.
“Honestly, Torryn,” Sylvin drawls, “You could at least pretend you don’t enjoy drawing focus to your—” his hand makes a vague, rushed circle in Torryn’s direction “—abundance.”
A lazy, easy smile appears on Torryn’s face as he shrugs, eyes firmly on my face. “Hello, Wren.”
Something about his rumbling dulcet tone stokes the fire within my body higher, descending from my face to my navel.
“Hi, Torryn,” I say timidly, suddenly bashful and shy, remembering how his body and warmth felt pressed against me in his bed.
I watch Sylvin lift two fingers, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
The snow between us stirs, then whips in a tight spiral around Torryn’s hips.
In the space of a breath, icy flakes knit themselves into a dense, opaque ring of swirling white, hovering at just the right height to obscure everything I’m trying very hard not to stare at.
“Better,” Sylvin says with a satisfied nod. “Can’t have you distracting my little echo from the important conversation at hand.”
Despite everything that felt so heavy just minutes ago, my lips twitch. The small ridiculousness of this moment scrapes away a layer of tension from my shoulders, allowing them to lower a fraction.
Then, just as a modicum of comfortability finds me, silence expands between us again.
Just tell them the truth, Wren.
I swallow, my throat tight, and look deliberately at the sky for a heartbeat just to have something else to catalogue. The clouds are still tinged with varying shades of gray, but the snow is falling more gently now, slowing as the storm steadies under Sylvin’s control.
“Wren,” Riven says quietly, drawing my attention back. There’s a warning in my name this time, the sharp edge of a vampire very close to losing his restraint. “We’re leaving. Now. This place is not safe for you.”
Leave it to Riven to get directly to the point, when said point is trying to own me.
He takes a step closer and out of my peripheral I see Ryoden shift his weight, as if he’s weighing the risk of stepping in again. “You’re coming with us.”
It’s not a request. It’s a decree.
Sylvin’s voice threads in a second later, lighter, but still very much firm in what he expects.
“He’s right. You’ve had time to see the truth of these humans from the room they’ve caged you in, I’m sure.
” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes now.
“It’s time to come home with us before they decide you’re better off in one of their dungeons, or dead. ”
Out of all of the words he said, one sticks out to me: Home.
Torryn says nothing, but his body leans forward almost imperceptibly, like his instinct is to reach for me and he’s barely holding himself back.
Only Azyric stays where he is, at the very edge of the group, one heel kicked back casually on the stone, arms still folded across his chest. He’s just watching and enjoying, eyes tight and lips thinned in a smug look.
He wants to see who I stand in front of when push comes to shove.
My heart skitters in my chest, knowing what I’m about to say will make him feel entirely justified in his continued skepticism of me.
His blind hatred for how he feels about me will obscure all of the nuance of the situation, leaving me looking like the villain he always wanted me to be to avoid his own emotions.
“I’ve told you all many times before that I’m not an item to be owned,” I say finally, the words coming out softer than I intended, but steady as I internally fight to find my backbone again. “You don’t get to show up and drag me away because you’ve decided it’s time.”
“Drag you away?” Riven repeats, fragments of betrayal and hurt sparking in his still gently glowing red eyes. “We’re trying to get you out of a human city that locked you in a room like an enemy, Wren.”
Once again I sense Ryoden’s movement shifting, but I applaud his ability to hold himself back from interjecting now.
“It’s not like that,” I argue, even though some small, bitter part of me whispers that it absolutely is in some ways. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“It’s always more complicated with you,” Azyric murmurs, tone smooth and quiet enough that it almost gets lost under the wind.
Anger and helplessness collide inside my chest, cracking loose the despair I’ve been so desperately trying to keep at bay for a week.
I thought I’d made peace with having to walk away from them, but I didn’t, and now I have to confront it head on, face to face.
Tears well at the edge of my vision, eyes pricking with heat.
“You don’t understand,” I whisper, throat tightening around the words as my arms subconsciously wrap around my midsection.
The memory of that version of me that so easily plucked their soul threads without hesitation sends a chill through my heart, worse than anything Sylvin’s blizzard could.
“What I saw. What I know now about my purpose here. I can’t keep walking the same path with you all. ”
Riven’s brows knit, while Sylvin’s head tilts slightly, and Torryn’s gaze sharpens, scanning my face as if the answers might be written there.
“I remember who and what I am,” I continue, the confession ripping free in ragged pieces as my breathing becomes erratic.
“If I go back with you…if I stay at your sides right now, I can’t do what I’m supposed to do to save this world.
I can’t look at what’s coming and pretend I’m just yours and nothing else. ”
A few tears spill out and over the apples of my cheeks as I stare at them through the blurry haze.
“It isn’t an option anymore.”