CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Ronan
THE FOREST STRETCHED AROUND THEM, damp with mist and birdsong. Above, the canopy leaked splintered light over the trail, moving across wet leaves and armor alike.
“Sunhaven rests just beyond that hill,” Callum called out. “We make it there and camp for the night.”
It had barely been twelve hours, and already the Order needed a cozy fire and rest. Perhaps two months had been too generous of an assumption for travel.
Verena crouched a few strides ahead, fingers brushing a cluster of white-tipped blossoms peering through the moss. “Starbloom,” she murmured, half to herself.
She straightened, just as Ronan’s shadow passed over her. He didn’t slow as irritation swelled over her face and she darted ahead until she was several steps in front of him.
Then she hesitated, likely realizing that meant he’d be behind her.
Feigning interest in another plant, she stopped, slipping back behind him moments after.
Ronan’s voice slid amused through the air. “You know, for someone who claims to hate me, you spend a suspicious amount of time in my way lately.”
She didn’t break stride, only reached up, snapping a low branch aside, and let it swing back, close enough to just barely miss Ronan’s shoulder.
“If you stopped taking up so much damn space,” she huffed, “I wouldn’t have to.”
Somewhere ahead, someone coughed, far too loudly to be coincidence.
Ronan’s laugh was a rough sound, more breath than humor as he watched her ahead, sunlight sparking off her leathers as she wrapped an arm around Elva’s shoulders.
They crested the ridge by dusk, the trail thinning to pale grain and brittle grass.
Below, tucked between dying oaks, the village of Sunhaven winked with light. Fires burned low in pits, children’s laughter drifting through the smoke.
Elysian dismounted first, scanning the thatched roofs and narrow alleys. “We’re not stopping here,” he muttered. “Too close to the border. Too many mouths that remember faces.”
Ronan nodded, diverting the group silently down the hill, where they remained cloaked in the dying gold of the sun.
Before they could get far, Verena stilled where she stood just beyond the line of horses, head pitched toward the tree line. “Do you hear that?”
Nezra raised a brow. “Hear what?”
But Ronan heard it too. A low growl.
The sound rippled through the pines, the rumble announcing dominance long before its teeth showed. The horses shifted as Ford muttered a curse beneath his breath, stepping closer to Inessa, who quickly took a stride further.
All eyes were on the forest when the trees parted.
A direwolf stepped into the clearing, massive, a creature of contrast. Half of it was midnight dark, the other polished white, perfectly divided from its throat down its spine. Its eyes gleamed, reflecting the firelight from the village below.
Verena didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Except for the subtle twitch of her lips.
Ronan’s hand went to his blade. “Don’t,” he warned, sensing what stirred beneath her skin.
The wolf’s gaze found her first, curious, and then shifted to Ronan. A snarl tore the air, teeth glinting like shards of bone. It lunged a step forward, hackles rising, every movement measured as its nostrils flared, head whipping to where Elva hid behind Callum and Elysian both.
It snarled again at Elysian’s half-drawn sword, and then it bolted. Not aiming for them, but down the hill, toward the sound of singing.
Verena moved. One blink, and she was gone.
“Verena!” Ronan shoved past the others as children’s laughter broke into screams.
The others shouted as he took off after her, but the world narrowed to the flash of her hair, the threat of the wolf, and the promise that whatever this was, it wasn’t chance.
“Stay here,” he yelled to the others, not waiting for argument.
Smoke led the way as he descended, his vision blurring to shadow as he unsheathed his sword. The scent of blood hit him first as he entered the town’s paths, and then he saw them.
Verena and the wolf.
They stood in the center of the ruined square where the villagers had all scattered, fires sputtering in the mud. The beast’s fur shimmered as its head lowered, eyes locked on hers.
Ronan slowed, heirloom hanging at his side, dark mist warping low along the ground. A body lay crumpled beneath the wolf’s paw, a young woman, skin ashen, chest unmoving.
“Verena,” he muttered. “Don’t move.”
But she didn’t hear him as she stepped closer, her voice following in a low, melodic haunt. The language was older than the fire in Ronan’s veins, older than Ryuu itself.
The wolf’s ears flicked back as it growled. Then, impossibly, it bent. Its massive head dipped low, muzzle nearly brushing the dirt.
Ronan’s breath snagged. “What the fuck…”
The wolf snapped its head up at the sound.
“Go,” she whispered to it, in the same ancient tongue.
It snarled once, then obeyed, bounding back into the trees, disappearing into the dark with a crash of branches. Once it had vanished, Verena turned to Ronan, her eyes darting.
Like she was lost, trying to find her way back.
“She’s alive,” she said hoarsely, motioning to the woman unmoving on the ground.
Ronan approached, a black shroud sliding over his skin unintentionally as he stood beside her, studying her face. “What did you say to it?”
She blinked, dazed. “I don’t know.”
But she did. And so did he.
They walked back to the forest in silence, boots sinking into the soil. The threat had passed, but the air still smelled of warning and blood.
Ronan kept a half step behind, jaw locked, smoke coiling from his palms despite every effort to stay calm. Verena strolled ahead, her hair tangled, her armor smeared with mud and something darker.
Killian waited where the forest broke, his eyes trailing over her, then glancing to Ronan.
“You’re good?” he asked, looking back at Verena.
“Unfortunately,” Ronan muttered, striding by them.
Killian’s mouth curved, but his concern lingered as Verena brushed past him without answering, toward the firelight.
At the camp’s edge, Elysian stood rigid, white fur still stroking his neck. The others had gathered, all watching as they returned.
Callum shot up from the fire, running a hand through his hair as he looked between Verena and Ronan. “What happened?”
Ronan tossed his jacket to the ground, the leather still covered in smoke. “A direwolf. Must have come out of the northern part of the forest. It attacked a villager.”
Nezra’s brow arched. “Impossible. They never travel this far south.”
“Tell that to the villagers,” Ronan said, grabbing his canteen and throwing himself as far away from the fire as he could. “One was harmed, but she’ll live. She’s with their healer.”
Callum’s stare cut to Verena. “And you?”
She gave a careless shrug, wiping dirt from her hands. “Fine. Mostly irritated.”
“I can imagine,” Ford mumbled. “You chased a wolf.”
“I stopped it,” she corrected, falling against a tree beside Gus.
He high-fived her before handing her a feather that looked to be from a skyhorn—a giant bird with antler-like crests. She marveled at the gift and blew him a kiss before securing it in her pocket.
Huffing a sound that might have been a laugh, Ronan leaned back against the tree next to hers, folding his arms as if that might cage his temper.
“You talked to it.”
Everyone stilled. Her eyes flashed to him as she pushed off the trunk into the air, creeping closer to Ronan. “You’re just upset it listened.”
He leaned in. “If you ever pull something like that again—”
“You’ll what?” she dared.
She stood a foot from him, hands settled on her hips. The fumes off the fire clouded his eyes as they lazily looked her over.
A muscle flexed in his jaw, ticking like restraint itself. Then he lowered his voice, the growl he only reserved for moments like this. “Don’t tempt me, Viper. I’m already too close to giving in.”
“You keep promising consequences,” she murmured, eyes flicking to his mouth. “And yet, here I stand. Unpunished.”
“For the love of the gods,” Ford groaned, rubbing his temples, “Are you two done eye-murdering each other?”
Verena blinked, stepping back like she’d surfaced from a spell while Ronan exhaled hard through his nose, straightening, jaw still tight.
“We should go back.” Callum scanned the forest line. “Ask if the soldiers have made it this far.”
“I’ll go with you,” Verena offered, stepping forward before he could refuse.
“No.” Ronan’s reply came quickly.
Her eyes slid his way, leveling him with a look that was all venom and slow appraisal. One that said she was debating whether to strangle him or let him keep talking just to regret it later.
“I swear, I think you’re pining for death.”
“I think,” he said evenly, “the villagers just watched you speak to a wolf. And I’m not convinced they’ll be feeling charitable toward you right now.”
“They know me,” she countered. “They know I’m harmless.”
He almost smiled. “That’s a generous word for you.”
She moved back toward him before Callum stepped between them without a word, cutting her off with a look.
His meaning was clear. Stay put.
Adjusting his cloak, Callum started toward the path back to the village. Verena tried to follow only for Elva to reach for her hand, shaking her head in a gentle no.
Already following, Ronan said, “I’ll go with him. Elysian’s in charge.”
Verena scoffed, head snapping up, body moving forward before she could stop herself. “Over my dead body.”
He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “That’s usually how anarchy starts.”
“And ends,” she smiled.
Elysian’s lip curled, a muted animal sound rumbling from his throat, warning.
Verena arched her brow. “You hiss like a damn housecat, you know that?”
That comment only earned a louder snarl and she rolled her eyes, unimpressed. Leaving Ely to groan under his breath, muttering something about burning the entire forest down and being done with it.
From behind, Ford called out, “If anyone dies, I’m taking their horse.”