Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
Fear
Cara was worn thin by the time we made it into our tent.
“I should make an appearance at dinner, but I can bring food in for you,” I offered.
“Shouldn’t I make an appearance too?” she asked, and then she dropped any pretense that she could. She collapsed onto the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands.
“No one will misinterpret your rest as weakness.”
I doubted she would listen. She was so kind to everyone else and so cruel to herself. It was infuriating. “Everyone knows what you did today.”
She looked up at me. She looked more mortal today, as if Kami’s magic—which usually kept Cara in some nebulous in-between state—was failing her today; her hair was falling out of her bun, strands loose around her face. It was her eyes that gave her away, dark-shadowed and red-rimmed.
“What were you doing today?” she demanded.
Today I had stood by her without an audience to see me play the caring husband. If I pretended not to understand her question, she’d see through me.
I decided to make her clarify anyway. I was not entirely merciful.
When I sat beside her, the bed creaked, reminding me of how close we had been the night before. I had felt all her stirrings. She had not slept well.
She had her elbows on her knees, her body leaning forward, and I mirrored her posture. “What do you mean?”
“You were kind.”
“I usually am.”
That was true enough. Kindness generally served my clan best and my own purposes well. It was a lesson too many leaders never seemed to learn.
“Fear.” My name, expressed as a sigh.
“I’m sorry I could not leave you to suffer as you requested.” Now I was being an ass. But she did deserve it a bit, didn’t she?
“No, she does not,” Shadowbane offered. “You could take the opportunity to apologize. Oh! Give her a gift!”
Shadowbane made me want to bury my head in my hands as Cara had done earlier. To him, I said, “You don’t understand anything about mortals.”
“That is certainly true.” Shadowbane sounded awfully judgmental.
I considered telling Cara that Shadowbane was on her side. It sounded too conciliatory, though. I would stand at her side, but I was not going to apologize, no matter how much Shadowbane whined about it.
“When I said I wished you would leave me to suffer and then asked for your help.” She chewed her lower lip, then lay back on the bed as if she were spent. “That was…”
The moment hung. I leaned back, too, tenting my arms behind my head so I could look over at her profile: those pretty lips over her stubborn chin, the forehead that wrinkled so easily with her emotions.
I offered, “Do you want me to supply adjectives?”
She shook her head, too tired to be pithy. Her armor was down for once, and I didn’t have it in me to mock her after all. “It was ungrateful.”
There were so many things that I could say in response. The words formed, then scattered, formed and scattered again. I could not settle on the right ones. I was not ready to put my anger aside entirely. But she had not been ungrateful.
I wasn’t going to pretend all was well. She felt the same. I had to say something, though.
“It is only with this woman that you ever find yourself speechless.” Shadowbane observed. “A rare and delightful occasion.”
“Shadowbane says,” I began, and she glanced over at me, her eyes widening. “That you were brave. That it was admirable. That no matter what else is between us…you deserved to have me at your side.”
“You are lying!” Shadowbane was outraged. “Well, you are right. She was brave and admirable. But you are making up my words because you do not want to admit to them yourself.”
“I was not brave. My hands shook, and you had to help me…” She bit her lower lip once more.
Sometimes it felt as if I was never going to convince her to see herself accurately. “Well. There’s no point in arguing with our dragons. They are ancient and wise, and we are not those things at all.”
Her lips ticked up faintly. “Tell Shadowbane thank you.”
“I like her,” Shadowbane said.
To him, “She would have ended both our lives.”
“You like her too.”
There was nothing else for Cara and me to say to each other tonight. We were not going to heal the rift between us before bed.
“Go to sleep, mortal.”
Sometime during the night, she moved toward my side, her body pressing against mine. I ran hot, after all, and the nights were cold in the forest. It was a primitive instinct. Though I would consider mocking her for it in the morning.
The night before, I had felt her body against mine, and I had very gently, carefully, moved her back.
Tonight, when she nestled her head into the crook of my shoulder, I stared at the blond head that had pushed her way into the hollow of my throat.
I did not put my arm around her, did not press my palm to the small of the back, or wrap myself around her. Instead, I put my hand flat against the cool sheet, giving her my shoulder for her pillow but not holding her.
When I woke up in the night, my fingers were fisted in the fabric, gripping it tightly. As if it had been a struggle not to hold her in my sleep.
The next day, Corbyn and I were making plans when one of his messengers came up and reported that Bismyth was arriving.
“Go,” Corbyn told me. “This will keep.”
I wanted to go to them, to make sure there were no casualties, but I was already moving in the opposite direction instead. To the one who would share my relief. I was halfway there before I fully understood what I had done.
“Cara!”
She came out of the tent quickly, looking for another problem, her braid swinging over her shoulder.
“Bismyth’s home,” I said.
The look that came over her face—hope and dread intermingled—was the expression I felt but never showed. She ran out of the tent barefoot.
“You’re going to cut your feet,” I told her, sweeping her up into my arms.
“Fear,” she protested, but she didn’t argue for once.
I caught the smiles on faces as we passed.
Asrael and Anayla were in the lead of the Bismyth shifters, and relief lit my heart as I saw one familiar face after another.
“Is everyone here?” she asked.
“I can’t see everyone, but judging from Anayla’s face, everyone came home,” I assured her.
Then Anayla and Asrael moved apart, and I saw who was at the center of the formation.
Tall. Dark-haired. Armed as always with his father’s sword, his mother’s throwing daggers gleaming in his bracers, and an annoying sense of superiority.
“Ander.”
What was he doing here?
“What?” She looked for him, tensing against my body, then over my shoulder. Searching for Tesa, who I’d seen up this morning, trying to make a place for herself at the camp by being useful. She’d been teaching Corbyn’s lieutenants everything she knew about the layout of the palace.
“Remember your promise.”
“Patronizing dick.” She said it through the smile on her face, because we were being watched.
Ander’s gaze found us, and for the first time in years, his face lit when he saw me. It was because I had Cara in my arms.
Her fingers on the back of my neck tightened enough to dig in. “Fear.”
“If he’s here, it’s because there’s danger for his clan, and it would be no favor to distract him now.” I reached for her wrist and removed her hand from the back of my neck. I was tense enough already.
Ander paused while Anayla closed the distance between us, and I set Cara down on her feet.
Anayla gave me the brief summary, beginning with the most important: full survivors.
“And you brought me a gift.” Of irritation. I looked to Ander.
Anayla smiled, slight and grim, as if she knew what I was thinking. “He has a message you need to hear.”
“From the queen?”
“No.” Anayla gestured him over.
Ander crossed the distance between us. He had a smile and a nod for Cara, and for me, the usual curt, “Fieran.”
“Ander.” I offered my hand. He accepted it; it was the firm, brief grip of two men who respected each other’s capabilities and not each other’s intentions.
Tesa was nearby, but I wasn’t sure where. Best to get him into a tent or further away from the main thoroughfare.
But he was already launching into why he was here. He laid it out efficiently, as usual: the facts in order, conclusions separated from speculation, nothing wasted.
The queen had sent Obsidian alone to guard the eastern sea wall.
The monsters at the eastern wall had broken far larger groups than Obsidian alone.
“Maura sent word. It could not reach you here, so I brought it myself.”
He reached into his coat and removed a folded piece of paper, which he held out. Cara took it before I could as he continued. “They need our help.”
“The queen has sent us both on missions of our own.” It was not an objection, but a problem we would have to navigate.
Cara read the letter quickly, then again. She handed the paper to me without being asked.
The message was Maura being Maura, which meant it contained no sentiment and all the information. Underneath, if one knew how to read her, was the faintest acknowledgment that she was asking for help.
Fear—we were sent to the eastern wall alone. If you’re going to do something, now would be the time. We will be of little use to your plots in a month –M
She could never quite bring herself to ask. Instead, she reminded me of the larger mission.
I needed to unite the shifter clans if we were going to have a chance against the queen. I doubted even I could get all nine clans aligned in one direction at once, but the more we had, the less chance we’d end up fighting dragon against dragon.
The wards that protected us had also kept her message out. “When did you receive this?
“Two days ago. I would have come sooner.” Ander meant the journey had been difficult. He did not elaborate.
“How bad is it?” Cara said.
“Obsidian is not a weak clan, but the eastern seawall has usually been the work of multiple clans. The queen knows what she’s sending them against. She’s not expecting them to come back.”
I considered it. “Obsidian could rebel against her orders.”
“They will not do that without an exit plan.”