Chapter 57 – Quinton
QUINTON
Isat in my usual corner of the sofa, one knee drawn up, mug in hand, watching the daily chaos of our common room play out.
Azaria and Kael were deep in discussion over the map, debating the next week’s outer patrols, Kael’s hands drawing quick paths across the parchment while Azaria argued for more coverage on the south ridge.
Dain, half-ignoring them, sifted through a pile of paperwork that never seemed to shrink, lips pressed in concentration.
The rest of the squad scattered themselves as usual—Reyna, Lirael, Thorne, Zeph, Lyra, and Elias—sprawled across sofas and chairs, engaged in their own conversations or, in Elias’s case, quietly sharpening a blade in the corner.
Kalias’s wolf form had taken up residence in the center of the room, a patch of silver-gray fur and too-large paws, tail flicking contentedly.
He’d been spending more time as a wolf lately.
Kalias the man was quiet and observant, always weighing his words.
Kalias the wolf was not subtle at all, especially with Azaria.
He was never far from her side. Sometimes she’d reach down and absently scratch behind his ears, and he’d lean into it, eyes closed in pure bliss.
I was not jealous.
Just mildly irritated that the oversized mutt was so insistent on existing in Azaria’s orbit, and yeah, it grated.
He’d warmed up to the rest of us over the past few weeks, but she was his clear favorite.
Did it bother me? Sometimes. But it was my name she moaned every night, and Kalias could have all the ear scratches he wanted.
I was mid-sip, enjoying the rare peace before Azaria inevitably kicked us outside for morning training, when a low hum of earth magic cut through the chatter. I felt it—a slow, thrumming pulse beneath the floorboards. Azaria caught it too. Her head snapped toward the door, eyes suddenly alert.
A moment later, Liria Sylvenhart stepped into the room, carrying a wrapped box in both hands. Azaria’s face lit up. “Mama!”
“Hello, Little Star.” Liria’s voice was gentle, proud. “I thought I’d pay you a visit and see that shifter of yours?—”
She stopped short, eyes locking on Kalias’s wolf as he rose to greet her, tail suddenly still. The air shifted. Liria’s face paled, her breath catching. She gripped the box so hard her knuckles went white.
Azaria’s smile faded. She moved quickly, gentle but firm. “Mama, is everything all right?”
Liria didn’t answer right away. I watched her, careful not to reach for my blood magic—she’d sense any attempt at a scan, and the last thing I needed was a former Earth Guard Captain reading my intentions.
Azaria leaned down, whispered quietly, “Shift back, Kalias.”
He obeyed. With a brief shimmer of light, the wolf blurred, limbs lengthening until Kalias the man stood there, hair mussed, clothes hastily reformed, eyes shining bright amber before settling to their usual pale blue.
I blinked.
Amber.
My chest tightened, memory flickering unbidden—Azaria looking up at me through her lashes, mouth on me, and for a heartbeat her eyes had flashed amber. I’d blinked, and it was gone. Blue again.
I’d told myself I’d imagined it. A trick of firelight, or my own haze of lust clouding my vision. But now?—
Kalias stood there, amber fading from his gaze like embers cooling to ash, and I couldn’t shake the crawling certainty that I hadn’t imagined a damn thing.
Liria looked at him like she’d seen a ghost. Her hand trembled before she caught herself, straightening her back. “I’m sorry, my darling. It’s just... I haven’t seen a shifter in a very long time.”
Every conversation in the room died. Even Zeph looked up from his cards.
Azaria frowned. “You what?”
Liria kept her tone even—too even, like the words had been waiting in some rehearsed corner of her mind. “The priestesses of Thalor have a relationship with certain shifter clans in Aelvaaran. I met some in the past, when I was at the temple, praying.”
It was smooth. Polished. The kind of answer that invited no follow-up questions. My blood itched beneath my skin the way it always did when something didn’t sit right.
Kalias nodded, quiet but confident. “My father told me about this. He used to travel on those dispatches.”
So that explained Thorne’s knowledge of shifter habits. He’d let things slip before, and Kalias never contradicted him.
Reyna propped her chin in her hand, eyeing Liria. “And why isn’t this common knowledge?”
Kalias answered, matter-of-fact: “It is only true for earth mages in certain countries. Ardanis has no such ties. Neither does Dravareth. Wolf clans are tied to earth and forest, so our magics cross paths. But the bonds are old. Quiet. It has been kept that way for a long time.”
Reyna seemed satisfied, but her eyes lingered on Azaria’s mother, as if weighing something she wasn’t ready to voice.
Liria pulled herself together, setting the box on the table in front of Kael. “I brought you some treats I thought you’d appreciate.”
Kael beamed. “Thank the gods for Mother Sylvenhart! If the council ever throws you out, we’ll adopt you.”
Liria’s smile was soft but distracted. She turned her focus to Azaria, brushing her daughter’s hair off her face with a careful hand. “I’m on my way to see Captain Torik, but I thought I’d stop by first.” She gave Kalias a formal nod. “You must be Kalias. It’s good to finally meet you.”
Kalias inclined his head with a hint of a smile. “Likewise. It is an honor to meet a Priestess of Earth.”
Priestess of Earth.
The room didn’t react—most of them probably didn’t register the weight of it. But I did. And so did Liria. The flash of surprise across her face lasted less than a second before she schooled her features, but I caught it. She hadn’t expected him to know that.
“My darling, will you visit us soon? I haven’t seen you in too long.”
Azaria nodded, her expression open and earnest. “I will, Mama.”
They hugged, quick but genuine. Liria pressed a kiss to her hair, then turned to say goodbye to the rest of us, regal even in her distraction. The door shut quietly behind her.
I let out a slow breath.
I’d only met Liria Sylvenhart a handful of times, but I’d never seen her rattled. Not like that. And judging by the way Azaria stared after her, she’d noticed it too.
Kalias caught my eye, then looked away, face unreadable. The others slowly drifted back to their tasks, but the quiet lingered.
I sat there, running it over in my head: the hum of magic, the way Liria looked at Kalias, the mention of Thalor, the old ties between earth mages and shifters.
And those eyes.
Amber.
The rest of the morning passed in its usual rhythm.
Azaria dragged us out to the training rings, barking orders and correcting stances with the precision that made even Zeph shut up and listen.
I sparred with Elias, went through drills with Reyna, and tried to ignore the way the wolf paced the perimeter, watching Azaria with that unsettling focus.
Always watching.
Always her.
By midday, we’d broken for lunch. The squad scattered—some heading to the kitchens, others collapsing in the common room. I found myself back on the sofa, picking at bread and cheese, mind still turning over Liria’s reaction.
Kalias had shifted back to human form and sat across from me, quiet as ever, working through his own meal. His hair was still damp from washing off training sweat, silver-white strands catching the light. I couldn’t stop looking at his eyes. Silvery-blue now. But I’d seen the amber.
“Something on your mind, Quinton?” Kalias asked, not looking up.
Damn. He’d noticed.
I leaned back, shrugged. “Your eyes. When you shift—they go amber first, before settling back to pale blue.”
He paused, then nodded slowly. “Yes. It is part of the transition. The wolf’s eyes bleed through before the human form fully stabilizes.”
“Is that common? For shifters?”
“For wolf shifters, yes. Different clans have different markers. Cats have green. Serpents, silver or black. It depends on the bloodline.”
I nodded, filing that away. “Your father’s an Alpha. Does that affect it?”
Kalias’s mouth curved faintly. “You are curious today.”
“Just wondering.” I kept my tone easy. “You’re the first shifter most of us have met. Interesting stuff.”
He studied me for a moment, then said, “Alpha bloodlines run stronger. The wolf is more present, even in human form. The eyes reflect that during transition.”
“Stronger how?”
“Instinct. Power. Connection to the pack.” He paused. “The wolf knows things the man does not always understand.”
I thought about the way his wolf watched Azaria. The way it leaned into her touch, followed her everywhere, settled only when she was near.
“Like what?” I asked.
Kalias’s gaze flicked to where Azaria stood by the window, talking quietly with Dain. When he looked back at me, his expression was unreadable.
“Like who belongs.”
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
Azaria was curled against me, breathing soft and even, one hand tucked under her cheek. Moonlight filtered through the window, casting silver across her face.
I should’ve been content. She was here. Mine. But my mind wouldn’t shut up. I kept circling back to the same things, over and over, like a puzzle with pieces that didn’t quite fit.
The amber flash in Azaria’s eyes. During our first time together, when she’d looked up at me—a flicker, bright and molten, there and gone in a blink. I’d told myself I’d imagined it.
The wolf’s obsession. Not protective or loyal, but knowing. Like it recognized something in her that the rest of us couldn’t see.
Liria’s reaction. She’d gone pale, gripped that box like it was the only thing keeping her upright. And when Kalias had said “Priestess of Earth,” she’d been surprised. Not that he’d spoken—that he’d known.
Kalias’s eyes. Amber during the shift. The same color I’d seen in Azaria’s.
And that thing I’d sensed inside her.
Twice now, I’d healed her. Both times, my blood magic had brushed against something I couldn’t identify.
Something that didn’t belong to any magic I recognized.
Not elemental—not fire, not earth, not water, but something deeper and older.
Something that hummed faintly when I touched it, like a sleeping creature stirring beneath the surface.
I’d written it off. Residual trauma from the fever. A quirk of her body’s defenses. But now?—
I looked down at Azaria, sleeping peacefully, unaware of the questions piling up in my head.
What are you, Az?
I brushed a strand of hair from her face, careful not to wake her. She shifted slightly, mumbling something incoherent, and settled back into sleep.
The wolf had chosen her instantly.
Liria had recognized something in Kalias. Something that shook her.
And Azaria moved through it all, unaware, like she couldn’t see the pattern forming around her.
I let my head fall back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling. I didn’t have answers. Not yet. But I was watching now. And whatever this was, whatever connection existed between Azaria, Kalias, and the things I’d started to notice—I’d figure it out.
Even if I was the only one asking the questions.