Chapter 9
SAPHIRA
Iwas beginning to regret my decision to accept Kaeleron’s help. He and Morden had been sniping at each other from the moment Kaeleron had returned this morning while I had been washing up at the river. The competition between the two males was fierce.
And annoying.
I drew down a breath for patience as I tried to shut them out, focusing on following the broad shallow river that babbled over boulders and swirled around rocks to my right.
Their current topic of conversation?
How little skill it took to use magic to do everything.
“If you wish to see what skill it takes to wield magic, I could give you an up close and personal experience.” Kael’s hand came to rest on the sword he now carried at his side, another thing that had set Morden off this morning, because my former protector and friend was now the only one without a weapon apparently.
He had been the only one without a weapon when it had just been the two of us, but that hadn’t bothered him.
It was just Kael having a weapon while he had none that irked him.
Kael idly drummed his fingers against the hilt of his sword.
“Or perhaps I could show you how well I wield a blade? Thus proving one of the skills I possess that does not require magic. It is freshly sharpened though, so I must warn you that it might sting a little.”
Morden huffed. “Like you could land a blow on me. Not without using your shadows to hold me.”
Kaeleron chuckled, an empty parody of a laugh, one that had Morden sliding him a dark look. “I do not require my shadows in order to defeat you, wolf.”
“Morden,” I quietly corrected, determined to drill my friend’s name into his head and make him use it because calling Morden ‘wolf’ all the time was irritating him, and Kael took far too much pleasure from how easily it rankled him.
Much as he had taken far too much pleasure from rankling me by calling me little lamb.
“Oh, but that is a delicious idea.” Kaeleron grinned, his shadow-cloak swirling as he swept his arm out towards Morden and my friend tried his best to hide how he tensed and flinched, as if the shadows would leap and attack him.
I realised he was right to be wary when Kaeleron continued, “I could show you what wonderful things my shadows can do. They cut as keenly as my blade if I will it, and it has been so long since I have sliced an opponent to ribbons with them.”
“I doubt that,” I mumbled. “I bet you used them plenty in the Wastes.”
Neither male acknowledged me.
I quickened my pace, leaving them both behind, hoping some distance between us would give me some peace and quiet so I could think and figure out what to do—head for the Ryland Pack or go straight to my asshole mate—because it felt as if I was the only one with their mind on our mission.
“If you want a fight,” Morden grunted and I frowned over my shoulder in time to see him sneer at Kaeleron, flashing a hint of fang, “then we can fight. No magic. No blades. No shadows. Just fists.”
I shot Kaeleron a look before he could jump on that offer, and he caught it and dipped his head.
“I am afraid I must decline. It is better we conserve our strength and aim our malice at those more deserving of it.”
My mood improved a little as I realised I had the power to stop things from going too far.
But then Morden muttered, “You’re just using her grumpy mood over the thought of us fighting as an excuse because you know I’ll beat your ass.”
I understood why Morden didn’t trust Kaeleron, but I didn’t understand why he was so intent on trying to one-up the fae king at every turn.
I wasn’t sure what it would prove. It wouldn’t change my opinion of Kaeleron, if that was his intent.
That remained steady. Despite how Kaeleron rose to the bait, or baited Morden in return.
Maybe proving he was better than Kael at something would make him feel more like a man, or maybe it was his sense of duty as my protector—as the one who should be taking care of me—that drove him to it.
He wanted me to see he was necessary, competent, and that he could take care of all my needs.
In the end, I didn’t care what was driving them to verbally attack each other or provoke one another.
I just wanted them to stop already.
I prayed to my ancestors for patience. “Can we just dial back the testosterone for five minutes? I’m trying to think here.”
“As my little wolf wishes.” Kaeleron appeared beside me, startling me.
He caught my hand and raised it to his lips as he bowed slightly to press a kiss to the back of it.
Chivalry would get you everywhere, because my chest warmed as he swept his lips over my hand, as his silver eyes lifted to meet mine and his mouth curled into a seductive smile, and I forgot I was mad with both of them.
“We should make camp soon.” Morden caught up with us, coming up on my other side, his grey eyes on the sky and the pink and gold streaked across it. It was getting late, and that smile in his eyes said he couldn’t be happier.
Because making camp meant Kaeleron would need to leave us and return to the Shadow Court.
And I would spend the whole night protected within that magical bubble he would cast, warm and safe while he was out there, battling in the Wastes, fighting for his life and his court, and slowly weakening himself.
“You are going to sleep at some point, right?” I levelled a hard look on him, doing my best to look commanding.
He shrugged.
Shrugged.
The same response he had given me when I had mentioned how his little plan to keep teleporting between his two missions left him no time to rest.
As if sleep was unimportant.
“Oh, it’s not like you need to heal,” I muttered and went to prod his side, and he swiftly dodged backwards, evading my jab. “Or recover your strength. Or even have a clear head in battle. Or anything else good rest would give you. No, the mighty Shadow King doesn’t need to sleep.”
His right eyebrow arched. “I did not say I did not need to sleep. I require little rest though. I am able to remain functional on barely one or two hours.”
“Liar.”
He already looked paler than he had appeared yesterday, the shadows around his silver eyes nothing to do with his darker side.
He was neglecting himself because he knew I needed to keep moving, that camping at night was slowing me down enough, and yet, despite my need to reach the pack, I feared asking him to teleport me there.
I feared facing him.
I was the one slowing us down.
I looked at Kaeleron, asking him to check on the pack on the tip of my tongue, but I hesitated and he interpreted the look I was giving him as worry for him, and I lacked the courage to correct him.
“I will be safe, Saphi,” he murmured low, as if he wanted only me to hear those words.
My heart swelled as he called me that, his silver gaze holding mine, filled with the same warmth that spilled through me.
I nodded and brushed my hand against his, our fingers twining for a moment before I reluctantly released them and began walking again. Morden had already moved off, his strides agitated as he stormed along the riverbank.
“I’m going to hunt,” Morden growled, loud enough that I easily heard him, and then he was stripping off and shifting, and bounding through the water at speed, as if he couldn’t get away from us fast enough.
When I reached his clothes, I picked them up and bundled them into my arms. Kaeleron frowned at me.
“What?” I frowned back at him as I tucked Morden’s boots on top of the pile of clothes.
“Let the wolf collect them when he returns.”
“Morden. And no, I won’t. Help me find a nice spot to set up camp.” I trudged towards the trees.
Kaeleron remained where he was. “Does the wolf have feelings for you?”
This again.
I rolled my eyes as I looked over my shoulder at him. “No.”
“You say that with such certainty.” Kaeleron stepped towards me, a vision of darkness with his shadows snaking across the ground, with the skin around his eyes verging on black and his silver eyes as bright as the stars. “Are you so certain?”
I didn’t mean to hesitate, but I did.
And Kaeleron was before me in an instant, his palms framing my face, holding me in place as he searched my eyes, his face so close to mine I ached to kiss him.
“He’s my friend,” I said, aware of the demand he wanted to voice but held back.
“Morden was… he was never very sociable. He prefers to keep to himself and he had a terrible start in life. His father was a monster who believed that to live up to the Snow name, you had to be as cold as it, as solitary and quiet. He moulded Morden into that and when my parents named him as my protector, I did my damnedest to break that mould that bound him as a loner, as someone who needed no one… who needed only his duty. It took years to chip away at that cold, isolated male and make him speak more than two words to me at a time. Years. But I did it… and I was probably the first person who showed him kindness… and the first person he called friend.”
“The scars…” He looked over his shoulder in the direction Morden had run.
He had seen them then, in that blink of an eye between Morden removing his clothes and letting the shift to his black wolf form come over him.
“His father gave them to him.” My mood took a sombre turn as I thought about that young male I had met when he had been brought to my family’s cabin, one who had looked as if he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he hated everyone in it.
“If we had known… I’m sure someone would have stopped it. ”
I hoped.
I set Morden’s clothes down on the grassy bank and straightened again.
“I know you hate him, and I think he hates you too, but for my sake… can the two of you just drop this bullshit rivalry?” I lifted my hands and cupped his sculpted cheeks, bringing his gaze back to me as my eyebrows met and furrowed. “Pretty please?”
“Convince me,” he husked.