Chapter 89
Chapter Eighty-Nine
Tovi
Fog slinked across the Void. It moved between Drystan and Sorin as if the fracture had an army of its own. Gray and angry, its slow crawl sent a shiver up Tovi’s arms.
Yet, the actual army she needed to defeat hadn’t arrived. Though Cass and Bran had received word that Lord Oziel’s legion marched south and were due any day now, Tovi’s insides tightened and buzzed. The energy in the war camp had shifted, too.
Witches had arrived from the east, led by Evelyn’s Aunt Ruth. The witches wore wariness as tightly as their fighting leathers. They’d not warmed up to fighting alongside vampyrs.
Still, Tovi exhaled in relief. Thanks to Evelyn and Blair’s efforts, Nūa had joined the fight instead of waiting it out behind the Wall. Tovi had heard grumblings about the proximity of the Void, too.
“For eighty years I loathed this place, and finally to be here amongst friendly folk . . . It’s nothing I’d ever expected.”
The very Carson who’d whispered those words assessed her with one eye.
Ruth stood among those gathered at the training grounds.
Some practiced drills. Others sharpened their blades.
Most had gathered near where Tovi and Eldrick sparred.
Werewolves stood by and watched, too. Word had spread through the mountains of Eldrick’s decision, and those brave enough to leave their packs and rebel against Bjorn’s orders had arrived in droves.
It helped, too, that the Drengr Pack, led by Kade and Evelyn, no longer answered to the Earl’s magic either.
No—Sorin didn’t have the numbers compared to Riven’s legion, but these witches, werewolves and few vampyrs didn’t fight based on greed or gold, but fueled instead by bravery and honor. Tovi’d take the latter pumping through a comrade’s heart any day.
Flurries fell from above, almost delicate and peaceful compared to the clanging of weapons and the ominous horizon. Eldrick bared his teeth and advanced. Tovi parried the down-strike of his axe with her blade. Metal grated against metal as they sprang apart.
Tovi’s leathers clung to her sweaty skin. She brushed away the hair sticking to her forehead, but Eldrick gave her little time to recover. He lunged to the right. She pivoted, jabbing the hilt of her sword into his back. He growled and spun, kicking the backs of her knees.
Bloody hel.
Tovi stumbled forward and whirled into a lunge. She bared her fangs and hissed. Eldrick tossed his axe from hand to hand, a slight tilt to his lips. He didn’t hold back, and Tovi appreciated it—there’d be no such mercy when she faced Riven on the battlefield.
She rallied her vampyr speed and launched. Eldrick shifted, his newfound Verena purple detailed leathers enchanted to fit his larger form.
A beast and a monster met in an ensemble of swift movements. Tovi’s heart hammered in her chest to the tune of their beating weapons. Her opponent didn’t relent. Pure muscle and strength, he sparred with true force.
Minutes ticked by. The air grew tense. The gathered crowd reared closer. Eventually, sweat drenched Tovi like she’d plunged into the Sapphire Sea.
She grunted as Eldrick landed a blow to her stomach. Damn him. Yet, she had no one else to blame but herself. Tovi grew sloppy. Fatigue gripped her.
Eldrick backed away, tilting his head as if to say, Don’t let it.
Tovi inhaled and with the next exhale, charged. She sprinted at full speed, sword angled ahead of her. Eldrick braced, but Tovi didn’t attack.
She jumped over him. And spun.
Eldrick turned, but it was too late.
Tovi’s blade ran parallel to his russet-colored fur.
He snorted, snot twitching as he eyed the blade and then her.
He shifted back to his male form and smiled wide and bright, brimming with pride. “Well done, dove.”
Applause and cheers sounded across the crowd. Tovi didn’t have the energy to smile, but she lowered her sword and outstretched her hand. Eldrick took it, and the two shook after their match.
“Nice effort, wolf.“ She winked.
Eldrick scoffed. “Next time, I’ll go easy on you.”
They both stifled a laugh. Eldrick hadn’t held back during their match, nor had Tovi. Love certainly tied them together, but so did a mutual respect. For who they were, what they might face, and their duties to this land. Those who had traveled to fight had witnessed it, too.
The next sparring match began, and Bétar and Ruth circled the other. A somewhat friendly competition started between werewolves and witches. The snow continued, and the Void remained vacant of anything but endless fog.
As Tovi and Eldrick refreshed near a watering station, Bran and Cass approached. Both wore fighting gear with a lilac emblem sewn above their hearts. Few vampyrs remained in the war camp. Most had boarded Flynn’s ships, long gone now.
Take Drystan Castle, Tovi had commanded.
The captain hadn’t objected. In fact, he’d left with a pep in his step, as if he looked forward to the challenge. Thanks to recent missives, Flynn had mentioned her brother’s absence from Drystan Village, confirming Riven marched south.
Her uncles were a welcome sight, but their deeply etched brows and down-turned lips screamed grim news.
“Lorkan and Blair just arrived from Vísdómr with more fighters,” Cass said.
Bran nodded. “Indeed, with a dozen vampyr-werewolves like Nadia.”
“Place them in a unit with the werewolves under my command,” Eldrick said. “Sam Johannes will welcome them.”
“I’ll see to it,” Cass said. “Lorkan and Blair also requested to speak with you both. They’re with Kade and Evelyn already in the council tent.”
Bran pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. “Seemed urgent if you ask me.”
Tovi sighed. The two scholars were the last to arrive among their allies, and she wondered what sort of news they’d brought.
“Alright, we’ll head that way now. Thank you.”
Cass and Bran tipped their heads, bowing towards her as they left.
Weeks ago, she’d swatted them away for such formal behavior, and they would’ve enjoyed her torment.
Yet, her title didn’t leave her squirming in her boots anymore, nor the polite customs that went with it.
Queen clung to Tovi like her well-tailored leathers.
It suited her, she realized.
She turned to Eldrick and caught him staring after Cas and Bran. Her uncles shared glances with one another. Their expressions shifted often, indicating they communicated over mind-linking.
Tovi and Eldrick weaved through the war camp, as silent as the snow that landed near their muddy boots. Tension leaked from him and then—
“Do vampyr mates have the ability to speak mind to mind?” His jaw ticked, brow level.
Tovi nodded. “Yes.”
His nostrils flared, and he exhaled. “Yet, we can’t—is it because I’m a werewolf and you’re a vampyr?”
She halted, stopping on the path towards the council tent.
Three flags—the Drengr’s, Nūa’s, and Tovi’s—stood tall, pierced into the dirt outside the entrance.
Between their flapping, the camp’s bustling preparations, and the chilly wind, Tovi and Eldrick’s conversation belong to them, and them only.
She opened and closed her mouth as Eldrick studied her. “We haven’t technically completed the bond, Eldrick.”
His brow pinched as he studied her, then something flashed like lightning in his gem eyes. “You once told me feeding is very common among mates.”
“It is,” Tovi said, breathy.
Eldrick stepped closer, so close their noses almost touched. “You also told me drinking blood is an intimate moment.”
Heat shot straight to Tovi’s core at the sound of those words in his voice.
“It can be, yes.”
“Say it out loud, Tovi,” Eldrick whispered.
Tovi’s stomach twisted into knots. “Doesn’t it disgust you?”
Eldrick’s eyes softened. “Nothing about you disgusts me.” He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “In fact, I’ve fantasized about you feeding from me many, many times.”
An array of images filtered through her mind. The positions they’d explore. The taste of him on her tongue. Fuck—
She stepped back, the distance between them like a bucket of ice.
Eldrick frowned. “Tovi—“
“I want to—gods, you have no idea how badly I do.”
“But?” He tilted his head, hands fisted at his sides like he braced for something.
“Feeding from one’s mate is a sacred act, Eldrick, and I . . .” She inhaled, setting her shoulders back. “When I feed from you for the first time, I don’t want the curse coursing through my veins. I won’t it to be just us. It doesn’t make me want you any less, I swear it—“
In two long strides, Eldrick reached her. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. He said a thousand words with his lips.
I love you.
I hear you.
I respect you.
They broke apart, Tovi’s lips bruised and sore like her worked muscles from training. Eldrick laid his forehead against hers, so they shared the same breath.
“Then we wait,” he said.
“Are you sure?” Tovi asked.
Eldrick grasped Tovi’s hand, placing it over his heart. “I don’t need mind-linking to affirm our bond. Our love is real, and that is all that matters.”
Tovi released a shaky breath. “I know, but . . . “
Tomorrow or even in the next hour, they might be in the thick of battle, death lingering over them. Without solidifying the thread that connected their souls, they risked one of them having a miserable existence if the other perished.
“Mind-linking could be useful in the days to come, and if we aren’t fully bonded . . . “ Tovi trailed off again, words regarding either of their deaths lodging like stones in her throat. Her chest grew heavy, the prospect more frightening than whatever Riven threw at her.
Eldrick sighed, and his gem gaze roamed over her face as if committing it to memory.
“I’d rather respect your wish than complete our bond because of poor circumstance.
It is our choice when and where, Tovi. And .
. . “ He swallowed, tone turning adamant.
“If one of meets fate on the battlefield, we must promise that the other will live.”
“Eldrick—“