Chapter 55
Chapter Fifty-Five
Eldrick
The Drabek Village bustled with preparations.
Werewolves worked to hoist an amethyst banner near the north gate.
Others climbed trees and hung glass orbs on invisible string, muted in the cloudy morning.
A woman with delicate braids handed out evergreen wreaths for families to decorate their cottages, and garlands filled with baby’s breath lined the palisade wall.
Ahead, two young girls fought with wooden shields and swords, embodying what the festival celebrated—shield-maidens.
Yet, the sky remained gray, and an ominous chill crawled up Eldrick’s skin. How did the Drabeks find the ability to celebrate anything with darkness so vividly on the horizon?
Hair white as snow caught his attention, and around the bend, Tovi walked beside the Drabek Alphas, Ragna and Asa. Their daughter Siv trailed them, hands clasped behind her back.
Eldrick’s inner wolf reared to life, quickening his alpha blood. His legs grew restless, the instinct to be near hear all-too-consuming. In a village filled with werewolves who might hate her kind, his rationale abandoned his place as Drengr Alpha and instead stood at her side.
As her protector, lover, and friend.
Though Drabek werewolves nodded in greeting, some offering her wide-toothed smiles and others grasping her hand, welcoming her to the village, Tovi’s shoulders were set back, proud, and there was an underlying smile tugging at the edge of her lips. His inner wolf sighed with relief at the sight.
The moment her jade gaze found him, her expression faltered.
The world vanished, and for the first time in weeks, the invisible thread connecting them pulled taut. Eldrick’s inner wolf howled. The energy thrumming between them had the power to buckle Eldrick’s knees but also fill his limbs with enough adrenaline to fight across a battlefield.
“Aye, there he is!” Ragna called from yards away, throwing her hands into the air. “The three of us were just discussing you, Alpha.”
Eldrick bristled at the use of his formal title. “I’ve known you for too long, Ragna. Please, my name is fine,” he shouted back.
Ragna and Asa were like aunts. Eldrick’s mother, Nadia, had originally been a Drabek, a pack full of the fiercest shield-maidens in all the Vadon Mountains, before she met Aramis.
Their mating had brought the Drengr and Drabek packs closer despite the distance separating the territories.
Ragna and Asa had also been the most supportive to his father after Nadia’s death, though, the more Eldrick reflected, he wondered if their presence was because of their apprehension towards Claus.
Leif, washed and presentable after days of travel and battle, approached. “You’re never going to get comfortable hearing the title if you don’t let people use it.”
Eldrick exhaled, crossing his arms. “It’s bizarre coming from Ragna and Asa; they’ve been alphas longer than my father’s been alive.”
“Time does not matter amongst your political peers. We’re all alphas; that is what connects us.”
Eldrick swallowed. “I’m still adjusting to the sound of it. Doesn’t feel . . . real.”
Leif hummed. “You and I are both firstborns, Eldrick. We didn’t know our paths, but we always knew the destination: to lead our packs. Are you certain it’s realness you’re struggling with or rightness?”
Eldrick whirled to face Leif, but the alpha’s unbending gaze had Eldrick’s rebuttal turning to ash on his tongue. How could he argue with a male who saw right through him?
Leif grasped his shoulder. “The two are as similar as they are different. Think long and hard, Eldrick. Sacrifice is valiant until we’re shells of ourselves, falling into a persona rather than a purpose.
But listen to this”—Leif pointed at Eldrick’s chest, right above his heart—“not this.” The alpha tapped his own temple.
Tovi and the Drabek Alphas neared. Ragna’s wheat-colored hair was braided to the side with baby’s breath blossoms dotted through the fishtail pattern.
She wore a simple metal band around her head, keeping her hair in place and signaling her alpha title with the ruins carved into the steel.
She wore layers of shawls and furs, appearing delicate and bundled all at once.
Her mate, Asa, wore fighting leathers and a lavender fur-lined cloak. Asa’s features were as sharp as her the axe on her belt—thin nose, narrow eyes, defined jaw, hair pulled into a tight bun—but her gray eyes were soft with an apparent kindness.
They moved as one, and Eldrick imagined after four hundred years of being mated, one expected as much.
Leif strode towards them, bowing in the presence of Tovi. “I hope it’s alright if I steal the queen. We haven’t had a chance to meet, officially.”
Asa huffed, rolling her eyes. “If you insist, Leif, but then you must allow us time with Eldrick.”
Leif peered over his shoulder and winked. “The alpha is all yours.”
Tovi dipped her head in greeting and said her thanks to the Drabeks.
She ignored Eldrick —rightfully so, after he’d teased her with his fingers and robbed her of release—and laced her arm with Leif’s.
They re-entered the activity of the village, and the busy streets swallowed Tovi from sight, and Eldrick sighed.
He’d not only robbed Tovi atop the saddle yesterday, but himself. Every inch of him ached with what he denied them, but he’d done it to protect both of them. Much like Leif had mentioned, if he and Tovi started down that path, Eldrick knew the destination.
Hurt and heartache.
The sides of his face itched, and to Eldrick’s dismay, he found two sets of ancient eyes borrowing into him as if they read his soul not his expression.
Asa whistled.
“That bad, huh?” Ragna snorted.
Asa snapped her fingers and pointed ahead. “I think our discussion is best had at the tavern, don’t you think?”
“It’s morning,” Eldrick said.
Asa waved her hand in the air. “Feelings rarely care about the time of day.”
Eldrick huffed but followed the mated females to the Drabek’s central tavern, the first Sheild-maiden. Guilt panged through Eldrick—he’d not dare mention this visit to Lucy, though the rivalry between distant cousins was in jest. Mostly.
Carved into the trunk of a redwood tree stump, the tavern was ten warriors wide and four stories tall. Asa and Ragna led the way to the top, slapping a pitcher of gourd ale down on the center of the table and three metal pint mugs.
“How long have the two of you been sleeping together?” Ragna asked.
Eldrick choked on his first sip of ale—it was far too early for beer or this conversation. “We’re not.”
“But you were?” Asa asked.
Eldrick seethed, gripping the edge of the table. “Why does it matter?”
The females laughed at his expense, and Ragna flashed a teasing smile. “You’re so like your mother, I feel like I’ve fallen back in time.”
“Aye,” Asa whispered. “Was at this very table where your mother denied her mating bond with your father, ya know?”
Eldrick shook his head. “Tovi is a vampyr, and I’m a werewolf. That possibility—”
“Is something we have no grounds to even dismiss. How could we, seeing as vampyrs and werewolves have lived separately on this continent?” Ragna snorted. “Who knows if it even exists amongst witches and werewolves, another resident of Sorin we’ve lived away from.”
“There aren’t the right signs,” Eldrick said, but the omission was barbed on his tongue, as if it were a lie.
“Like?” Ragna pushed.
“Feeling ones’ emotions. Mind-linking . . .” Eldrick shook his head, withholding the thread he felt pulling at his heart every time his eyes fell on Tovi.
Asa sipped her ale. “Those parts of the bond don’t usually arise until both parties accept it.”
Eldrick’s wolf bared his teeth. Hadn’t he accepted what Tovi was to him after admitting his love?
He wrestled with denial, because the truth was, he hadn’t.
But his stubborn streak roared to life, ruffled by the fact she’d not said those words back to him.
That was entirely unfair, considering what he knew of her past. Eldrick stewed and sipped his ale.
There was no one to blame—they’d each made their choice.
For once, though, it wasn’t the whispering of the prophecy that played in the back of Eldrick’s mind but Leif’s earlier words.
Rightness. Eldrick couldn’t deny that feeling yesterday of having Tovi back in his arms, feeling her radiating strength and greeting his beastly energy.
What did rightness have to do with anything when his body thrummed with want while darkness crept over the horizon?
“War is coming, and the darkness has entered Sorin worse than ever before. That is my focus,” he finally said.
Ragna narrowed her gaze. “Your statement feels pointed, Eldrick.”
“Why bother hosting the festival?” he asked. “There are far more important matters. Defenses, perhaps even making the other alphas reconsider the Earl vote.”
Asa sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Strategy is a mere fraction of what it means to lead. The festival is a centuries-old tradition. Canceling it because of clouds in the sky and demon sightings rips the village out of normalcy. The festival also creates something far better and rarer than defenses—hope.”
Ragna nodded. “We feel the shift in the land, and our alpha magic is practically tremoring as we speak. You’re right, war is coming, but it is hope I want strapped to my warriors and their shields when we face Riven, not fear and tiredness.”
Eldrick exhaled, attempting to release the tension wound in his pent-up being. He didn’t disagree with them, but his mind fixated on his task at hand. “What of the Earl vote? Are you considering myself or Bjorn?”
Ragna’s gaze narrowed to slits. “I’m insulted you’d think we’d entertain Bjorn’s name.”
Eldrick shrugged. “I’m aware of Bjorn’s methods to gain power, and my guess is he was here before my arrival.”
Asa nodded. “You’re correct, but we’re neither afraid of Bjorn’s bark nor his bite.”