CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Verena
NOT KNOWING EXACTLY WHERE WE WERE was uncomfortable.
The only familiarity was the hum of magic beneath the forest floor and
the quiet lingering in the air.
Not home, not Csolenia, but still the realm that raised me.
Still Luamis.
And the Bale hadn’t tainted it yet.
At least, not here. Wherever here was.
I couldn’t smell the ocean's salt, couldn’t hear the whisperings of the creatures beneath the swell. Ronan had said our camp was further south, but we weren’t yet near the shore of Tempest Tide.
Movement drew my attention to Killian, his hands brushing over the swerved spine of a stallion. He stood at least four inches over six feet tall, yet the horse still had two hands on him.
I prowled closer, and only when I was a foot away did his hand still on the horse’s muzzle.
“Verena Vale,” he greeted, attention still fused ahead. “Good to see you up and about without vengeance in your eyes.” Glancing over his shoulder, he chucked, “Oh wait—” His finger pointed at my tensed fists, then he winked.
Gods spare me, not another arrogant brute.
Okay, start off slowly. You want honesty, Verena.
I could remember Killian and Nezra in the cell, then she left and Killian had a roguish, stirring gleam settling in his eyes before he chanted some nonsense.
A burn had flared, first behind my ear, like he had burned a hole into the back of my thoughts. Then at my wrists and ankles right before I inevitably, and embarrassingly, passed out.
No recollection of what he had said. No memories after the darkness caught me until I woke up in that tent.
Just be nice. Maybe thank him, then ask him why.
“Why did you rescue us?” I blurted.
So much for subtlety. Well, I tried.
He paused, head tilting upwards. I didn’t need to see his face to know his stare was fixed on the mountain, the sun’s warm light cresting its peak.
“I never could resist a damsel in distress,” he said, wiping his hands on the worn brown of his armor.
I pictured him in the iridescent hue the Angels had worn in that memory; the leather just didn’t match him. But the color of the clouds sure did.
“Or a gent either, in this case,” he continued.
His answer triggered me. I couldn’t put my finger on why, but the way he too nonchalantly said it had me gritting my teeth as I snarled, “You could have helped us sooner, you know, in that fucking throne room. Before...”
I swallowed the words. I couldn’t say them, couldn’t make it more real.
I still hadn’t even spoken to Callum. I was too terrified to face him. Did he forgive me? Blame me?
I couldn’t feel our bond anymore. Who broke that, Obrann…or him?
Killian dropped the pack he’d been securing to the horse.
“It wouldn’t have mattered what I said in that room, he was sending you to the dungeon either way.
” His head swiveled, making sure no one’s attention was on us.
“The only reason I was brought in was to see what else I could get out of you. Which likely kept your head attached.”
A silent warning tore up my throat. A gasp, a sob, whatever it was must have shown because his glare sharpened on me.
“I did what I could in that moment to keep you alive.”
“Why?” It slipped out before I could stop it, too raw to swallow. He didn’t know me, so why spare my life?
Retrieving his pack from the ground, he let out a sharp breath. “Why what?”
“Why keep me alive?”
His brow shot up. “That’s the one,” he spoke, breath carried with the wind. “The question worth dying for.”
I couldn’t help myself, I rushed toward him, slamming his pack shut, shoving him against the stallion’s chiseled shoulder. “Who the fuck are you?”
The question seared against my tongue. Had I known him before?
The horse’s ear’s flattened as he let out a whinny, hooves striking the dirt. Killian rubbed his palm down the white trail of his muzzle, hushing until it calmed. When he stopped, he bent until we were eye level.
Searching his face, I looked for anything that might spark recognition. Nothing. Though having him so close did tempt me to rip those diamonds right out of his teeth.
He clicked his tongue. “Now, that would just be cruel.”
Damn. Forgot about that trick.
I was so used to Callum being the only one able to read my thoughts, and he’s barely looked in my direction since we got to camp. I slammed my shields up, locking them tight.
“You don’t know me,” he said. “You’ve never known me.”
My shoulders sank, another fleeting grasp of identity fading.
“Perhaps the Viper’s drained the wits from you, but have you ever considered you’re important simply because of who you are?
” His finger jabbed where the curse tattoo sat on my chest and I swatted his hand away.
“The king summoned me weeks before he threw you both in those cells. He may be cruel and vicious but he’s smart.
Much smarter than you or your friends seem to comprehend. ”
He returned to securing what little belongings he carried, the entire supply amounting to a feather-shaped dagger, a very battered sword, and a bow with a solid amount of two arrows.
Not sure how useful those were going to be.
Not counting the overzealous amount of jewelry clinking with every move. The satchel was too small for spare clothes, maybe a canteen at best.
Seems I wasn’t the only one with a lost sense of self.
He could sneer about our lack of intellect all he desired, I knew it was a lie. Obrann couldn’t have known who we were. I knew him, knew what he wanted most. And denying his prize for weeks? That wasn’t his way.
But gods, Duke, Rook, everyone who stayed behind—what if Obrann did know who they were? What if they’re all currently where Callum and I had just resided the past week, getting their flesh torn off inch by inch?
The thought dragged me so far under, I nearly missed what Killian had begun rambling on about.
I pushed the thoughts down. My friends were safe. I knew they were.
“The only ones who have him fooled are those damned dragons,” he said with a scoff.
My eyes snapped up. “What do you mean?”
His mouth curved, all too knowing. “I mean, little bird, they’re the only ones he’s yet to see coming.”
For now, but there it was again—little bird.
Though it wasn’t as ominous dragging from Killian’s tongue. He had likely plucked it from Nezra’s thoughts, thinking it would rattle me.
“If he fears anything in this world,” he continued. “I would say it’s with your noble Prince of Wraith over there.” He shot his thumb toward Ronan, perched on his mare, head inclined toward Elysian as they spoke in hushed tones.
Ronan’s leathers hugged his sculpted frame, the coal-black fabric matching the curls he pushed from his forehead. The scar above his lip flexed with his grin, the light catching the subtle shadow of his jawline.
Killian cleared his throat, smirking as he came to my side. “Be wary of him, Verena.” His eyes swept over me. “You were not the only valuable creation stolen from the palace.”
The heirloom. Ronan has it now.
I let my eyes shift, searching for the heat of the artifact, snooping for its power.
Ronan’s movements stilled, his head swiveling toward us. Toward me.
I swallowed, averting my stare as my sight returned to the very interesting dirt beneath my boots.
Killian stepped into my line of sight, just as a cool caress of smoke tilted my chin back up before dispersing.
That was not Killian’s guardian touch. But one of sin.
“I suspect you’re aware of what your prince has been given back?” Killian asked.
My laugh came out too high, too damn thin, doing nothing to disguise the odd flip my stomach did when he called Ronan mine.
He was no such thing.
“Don’t say that. He’s not my anything.” Well, maybe mine to maim. That I would allow.
I had noticed an item strapped across his back, protected by a gilded cradle, but hadn’t realized Callum had given it to him before everything went to hel.
Killian smiled, just as I felt like a quick nudge of my shields. “I gave it to him.”
I smacked his arm, reminding him to stay the fuck out of my head. My temples throbbed as I slammed my shields up, again.
A trace of scales rolled under my skin but didn’t push through. The darkness of the curse becoming reacquainted with the loss we had both felt the last week.
I hadn’t even closed its door since it returned. I wasn’t sure I could.
Across camp, Ford’s voice carried as he approached Ronan, a bag slung over his shoulders. “Don’t you think it’s a little unfair that four of you get horses and the rest of us have to walk?”
Killian mounted his stallion, his boot nearly kicking my face as he settled into the saddle. “The four of us who saved your asses will ride comfortably and scout ahead.” He let out a sharp tsk, urging his horse toward the others who waited comfortably.
“That guy,” Ford aimed a finger at Elysian, “can literally turn into a horse. Why doesn’t he just do that so we can free up two more?”
My head shook in disbelief, and amusement, as Elysian dropped from his mount, stalking toward Ford, his stare carved from frozen fury.
He got nice and close, freezing Ford in place as he bent to his height and snarled, “If you ever suggest riding me again, I will tie you to my boot and let the wolves feast on what is left of you.” Frost curled from his mouth in slow puffs, landing against Ford’s pale face.
Ford swallowed, hard. “The sound of your voice gives me nightmares, mate.”
Elysian backed away, eyes flicking toward Elva before he returned to his stallion beside Ronan.
I looked between the two warriors. Callum had warned me about Elysian when I had found out about their meeting. When I first saw a glimpse of him at camp, I had expected him to be a beast made of white flame. What had stepped from the trees instead was a panther without shadow.
It was obvious he and Ronan shared more than just orders. The looks, the silent conversations, they spoke of memories, bound in blood and years. Not merely a prince and his hound but stronger. A brotherhood built on life owed and respect earned.
Which meant when I killed Ronan, Elysian’s life would have to follow.
Ford rolled his eyes, adjusting his pack. “Besides,” he said. “I wasn’t suggesting I be the one that rides you. I’m sure any of these ladies would gladly hop onto your saddle.”
He snickered at his own joke, and I caught Gus lending a quick laugh before smothering it. And though she tried to hide it, a flush crept up Elva’s neck, tinting her cheeks pink.
Callum smacked Ford’s shoulder as he passed, and I hesitated a beat too long to reach for his arm to force his attention on me, the moment seized by Ronan’s booming voice.
It was so naturally commanding, all our spines straightened at its rasp.
“We’re far enough south where the weather will contend with us just fine. We are not mortals. We are all warriors, one way or another.” Elva bowed her head, the two braids I’d given her running tight against her scalp. “Gut up and find your strength,” Ronan continued. “If you tire, swallow it.”
I knew he was a swallow kind of guy.
His eyes shot to me.
Shit. I didn’t say that out loud, did I?
His gaze hovered on mine for an instant longer before he went on.
“We’ll rotate who rides every day. Our goal is two months at the latest. Assuming we don’t run into any of hel’s beasts on the way.”
Wells pressed his lips together, gripping the pack’s handles tightly against his chest. I nudged his arm, shaking my head, reassuring him he had nothing to fear.
The rest of the Order and dragons filed past at Ronan’s dismissal, and I caught Elva’s hand, holding her back. “You ready?”
Her arm looped through mine, and I couldn’t help but admire how different she looked in my leathers. Still devastatingly beautiful, but no longer the delicate flutter of light that had been hidden.
For the first time in a long time, Elva looked fierce.
“You better be ready,” Elysian said above us. The frost had quieted to a flurry. Still cold, still dangerous, but almost tender as he spoke to her. “This is the real world now, princess. You are not protected by your castle walls any longer.”
Elva smiled, a glowing dusk spreading in her eyes as she claimed my hand and replied, “No. I’m protected by better.” She looked to me, with no lost radiance. “Let’s finally fly free, my sparrow.”
I beamed. “Only with you, my sweet dove.”
And together, we both took our first step toward freedom.