Chapter 19
e break for camp after close to ten hours of riding through the jagged hills that surround Wrohelm like sharks’ teeth jutting fromW the earth. This is the most temperate climate we are likely to face on our journey, and yet despite my furs, the cold seeps into my marrow. Judging by the way Benny, Caz, and Kyor have also flocked around the fire, I’m not the only one. Tomorrow, I will need to layer up even further.
Either that or ride with Ruben’s warmth, but something tells me Kyor won’t take kindly to that.
As Caz continues stoking the impressively large fire she built, Elska slinks towards us and flops down directly in front of the flames, hogging a good portion of the heat for herself. ‘Budge,’ Kyor instructs, his look flat. ‘You don’t need it. You’ve got all that fur.’ She shifts a token few inches and I struggle to suppress a grin. Kyor may be a prince, but to Elska, he’s just her bonded, and she’s not afraid to remind him of that fact.
While the rest of us rub our hands in front of the flames and try to ignore the rumblings in our bellies, the prince opens his travel bag and pulls out a loaf of bread, some cheese, and a couple of other paper-wrapped items. ‘Food!’ Benny says eagerly. ‘Kyor brought food.’ He grins wildly at the prince. ‘You know, I’ve always liked you.’ Kyor pauses midway through slicing off a chunk of bread. ‘You didn’t bring food with you?’ His tone is incredulous. ‘Of course we did,’ Ruben grunts back. ‘We’re not idiots.’
‘Then where is it?’ Caz grimaces. ‘We gave it all to the starving urchins. It seemed like a
good idea at the time.’ ‘It did not,’ Benny mutters. ‘We did it for the kids who starve every single day in the slums,’ Ruben joins in, his attention solely on Kyor. ‘You know … your subjects?’ Ruben’s eyes go distant, and I know he’s thinking of the slums. From the way his lip trembles, he’s thinking of his mother too – her loss still raw, still cutting.
Kyor ignores Ruben as if he hasn’t spoken and looks at his provisions.
It’s enough for one person for a good few days, but not enough for all of us for very long. Still, he finishes cutting off the slice and then hands the bread and knife to Benny before proceeding to do the same with the rest of the items.
As a packet of ham reaches me, Elska gets up and stretches, but rather than repositioning herself in front of the flames, she stalks off into the trees. ‘Where’s she going?’ Caz asks. ‘To hunt,’ Kyor grunts. ‘Apparently, we’re going to need more food.’ When we’ve finished eating a good portion of Kyor’s supplies, Caz once again returns to her maps. While the rest of us are struggling with the cold, Kyor stands up and removes his shirt, which he folds neatly before placing it on the log he was sitting on. ‘What are you doing?’ I snap, fully aware that he’s staring at me because I’m having to use every bit of willpower I have not to stare back. How has he grown more physically perfect since I last saw him topless? ‘Get up,’ he instructs me with the same tone he used with Elska. And just like his wolf, I pay it very little attention. ‘You’re blocking the heat,’ I say instead.
Rather than responding, he turns around and kicks dirt into the fire. The flames stutter and cough, spitting and crackling as they try to stay alight. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ I spit. ‘We need that.’ ‘What you need, sweetheart, is to train. So get up or I’ll put the fire out for real.’ My back teeth grind together at his stupid, petty action, but he’s not bluffing. If I don’t get up, he’ll put the entire fire out, and relighting it is just a hassle we don’t need.
Reluctantly, I drag myself onto my feet.
‘Did you bring a sword?’ he asks me.
I give him a flat look. ‘Obviously.’ Only a fool would take the Hirathean Path without adequately arming themselves. ‘Good,’ he grunts.
With a single swivel, he turns on the balls of his feet then moves over towards a tree where a couple of bags – including one big enough to hold several weapons – are propped up against the trunk. While I know he’s expecting me to follow, I linger a moment, not because I’m planning to refuse again, but because there’s something about seeing the ripples of his muscles in the firelight. The way the shadows of the now-muted flames dance across the carved contours of his shoulder blades and back. It makes my entire body forget it’s meant to be walking. ‘We’ll use mine to train,’ he says, swinging back to face me, two swords swaying in his grasp.
With a reluctance that comes as much from moving away from the fire as it does from being close to Kyor, I finally amble across to join him. ‘You’re a fighter, Rose. A survivor,’ he says, handing me the sword. ‘But what you’ll have to face on this trip will make the other Rettlings look like pussycats. You need to be ready for anything.’ His voice is tight and I wish his obvious tension didn’t worry me, but it does. He knows better than any of us what we’re about to face. If he says I should train, then maybe – in this situation only – I should believe him.
He hands me one of the swords and his fingers brush against my knuckles. It’s the most minuscule of touches, and yet it sends my heart racing. ‘Sort out your footing,’ he commands, only to simultaneously strike at me.
I’ve not even recovered from how much I miss the feel of his skin against mine, let alone had a chance to think about my feet, and yet his blade is heading straight for me.
Instinctively, my hands swing upwards as I move my sword to meet his.
The first clatter catches me by surprise, but it also brings me into the present.
Reminds me what I’m meant to be doing.
At certain points, it feels as though I’ve been transported back to the early days of the Retterheld, to when Kyor and I would spar as Zelle offered tips and tricks to improve my technique. ‘Feet wider,’ Kyor snaps in a way that is remarkably similar to his old
tutor, and I can’t help but wonder if he knows it. ‘Move your shoulders back.
When you fight them, you need to keep your distance.’ ‘You mean the Issen?’ I reply. ‘You can’t let their weapons touch you,’ he says in a manner that feels like he’s evading my question. ‘Because we’re okay if other enemies’ weapons touch us?’ I sass back.
But he doesn’t smile. ‘They poison their blades,’ he warns. ‘One nick, and you’re dead. So we’re practising a new style of fighting.’ Fear that I somehow subdued rises to the forefront of my mind, more potent than ever. ‘How can you fight someone who can kill you with one nick of their blade?’ I question, trying to hide the nervousness burgeoning within me. ‘Carefully,’ he grunts. ‘You only go in for a killing blow when you’re sure, and you never ever leave yourself open. You need to fight defensively until you’re ready to land that final strike. That’s what we’re going to focus on.’ We battle on as we did back in the training yard, and soon I’m entirely lost in the feel of the blade in my hands and the jar of blows reverberating up my arms.
I almost expect a sassy comment from Llinos. A less-than-subtle whisper about whatever is going on between him and me, but of course, it doesn’t come.
There is no pulling of punches with me. Kyor trains me like a warrior, just like he always has done. Like he knows, more than anyone else, what I’m capable of.
It’s one of the things I love so much about him, I think before remembering that’s a thought that needs to be spoken in the past tense now.
The cold of earlier is forgotten, and despite the freezing temperatures, sweat glides down his temples, beads on his forearms, and trickles along the thin line of hair that leads down from his belly button. I try to ignore it all.
Try not to think about other occasions when sweat slicked his body to shiny perfection. Try not to think where that line leads. ‘That’ll do,’ he says finally when I’m soaked to the bone. As I drop my sword and realise just how much my heart is pounding, Kyor turns to Ruben.
‘You. Come here,’ he barks.
Ruben’s jaw sets. ‘We can’t have weak links. Either you show me you can fight or …’
He doesn’t finish the sentence.
Ruben doesn’t need him to. He rises to his feet. ‘Have you ever fought before?’ Kyor asks as I hand Ruben my sword. ‘I lived in the slums. Of course I’ve fought before.’ ‘Killed?’ Kyor presses.
Ruben slides his eyes to me for a beat before nodding.
There was a man once who harassed Kay and me, and he wound up dead.
I always wondered whether Ruben was the one who ended him. I never asked, didn’t want it on my conscience, but now, in this moment, I find that I
need to know. ‘Tella?’ I ask tentatively. ‘Yes.’ His eyes meet mine, but there’s no regret in them. He did what he
had to. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper.
A lopsided smile curls his lips. ‘There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,
Rose. You know that.’ I do know that.
My skin heats a little. Ruben and I had an arrangement in the slums – friends with benefits and no feelings allowed. Though if I’m honest with myself, I knew he’d never stick to that rule. Right from the off he’d wanted more, even though he tried to pretend he didn’t. I ignored it. Ignored the way he looked at me, the way he wanted so much more, because I didn’t feel the same. Part of me wished I had. Wished I could be the partner he so desperately wanted me to be.
What I felt for Ruben was nothing like the fire I felt for Kyor. It wasn’t even a candle to a bonfire. Yet he killed for me. ‘Let’s see what you’ve got, then.’ Kyor’s voice breaks our moment as he swings at Ruben, only for Ruben to duck out of the way and drive his sword at Kyor with more force than I’d expected.
Ruben fights like someone who learned in alleys – fast, dirty, unpredictable. Kyor fights like someone who learned in war – precise, lethal, uncompromising. Their blades clash in jarring rhythms, steel ringing out
across the clearing. ‘Your stance is atrocious,’ Kyor snaps.
Ruben snorts. ‘You don’t have time to learn fancy footwork when you spend your days actually trying to stay alive.’ ‘The fancy footwork,’ Kyor grinds out, ‘gives your body the stability it
needs to do this.’ He lands a blow close to the hilt of Ruben’s sword before switching his feet and thrusting low. Ruben defends against the strikes, just barely.
Undeterred, Kyor goes in for another, his blade ripping through the air and cleaving downwards, only for Ruben to block it in an impressive display
of strength.
A grin flickers on Ruben’s lips. ‘Keep your shoulders down,’ Kyor orders. ‘You’re leaving an opening.’ ‘You leave openings,’ Ruben fires back. ‘I believe there is currently one in Rose’s bed. I’ll be happy to fill it.’ Kyor stills. ‘You have a death wish, slum rat? You should have just said.’ Kyor’s sword hits the ground and he’s on Ruben before I can blink, snarling worse than Elska. But somehow Ruben is ready. He meets Kyor with a punch that snaps the prince’s head sideways, only for Kyor to return one that sends Ruben staggering.
They crash into each other again, fists hammering, bodies colliding, snarling like the feral wolves of Afaven Forest.
Kyor could obliterate Ruben in a heartbeat, reducing him to ash with a thought. But he doesn’t reach for his magic. He chooses his fists instead, driving them hard and fast, every blow deliberate, controlled, and brutal. But Ruben doesn’t waver, doesn’t give him an inch.
Blood drips from them both as I scream out into the night. ‘STOP! The pair of you, stop it!’ Neither even glances in my direction, let alone do as I ask.
Instead, Kyor slams Ruben into a tree, only for Ruben to knee Kyor in the thigh. Barely allowing himself time to wince, Kyor grabs Ruben by the furs and throws him, hard, into the snow, and yet Ruben isn’t done. From flat on the ground, he sweeps Kyor’s legs out from under him and drags the prince down beside him.
They’re rolling, clawing, punching, completely lost to the fight. ‘We should have snacks.’ Benny sighs mournfully. ‘That’s all this is missing. Snacks.’ ‘They’re going to kill each other!’ Caz exclaims.
Benny shakes his head. ‘No, they’ll be fine. They just need to pummel the shit out of each other. Score some points. It’s a man thing.’ ‘It’s a pissing contest,’ I snap.
Caz bites at her nails. ‘Is it any wonder I prefer women?’ she mutters.
We continue to watch on as a crack of thunder rolls above us, but rather than lightning, it’s hail that rains down on us. ‘The prince is getting seriously pissed now,’ Benny points out unnecessarily.
The cold chunks of ice that seep down the back of my top tip me over the edge. It is late, I am tired, I am cranky, and I am not going to sleep while I’m
battered with hailstones. ‘ENOUGH!’ A blast of pure cold erupts from me, freezing the ground in a ten-foot radius and sending the men flying upwards into the air, limbs flailing until they land with a thud on opposite drifts, panting. Thankfully, neither of them moves to continue the brawl.
My ears ring as I stare at the mess I made, ice and snow stretching out before me. ‘Fuck,’ I mutter, rubbing my forehead in despair. This shit is why I left Wrohelm post-haste, but even here – still so close to its rings – it’s dangerous. ‘Awesome power, Rose.’ Ruben looks at Kyor. ‘I won, right?’ Ruben’s eye is already swelling shut, and blood is dripping from his mouth. He spits out a tooth, a flash of red against the pristine white of the snow.
Kyor snarls, ‘Touch her again and I will tear your spine out through your arsehole.’ Ruben snorts. ‘Mate, I hate to be the one to tell you, but she’s not yours to
threaten people over.’
I drop my head into my hands and groan.
This is a nightmare.
A violent, stupid, beautifully muscled nightmare that is probably going to work its way into some pretty indecent dreams.
WHILE THE MEN were busy trying to incapacitate one another, Elska was off catching a deer. Kyor gutted and roasted the deer while he took watch, so we started our day with more meat than we could comfortably eat. ‘This is more like it,’ Benny says, patting his flat stomach. ‘I needed that.
Just a little more seasoning next time.’ Caz throws a water canteen at his head, which he catches effortlessly.
‘Thanks, I was thirsty.’ As we pack the leftovers, I feel decidedly better about our decision to give away our food. After all, with Elska hunting for us, we should be fine. ‘Anyone need a hug?’ Ruben offers the same way he did the morning before, yet somehow we know the offer excludes Kyor.
Once again, Benny is the first to take him up on it. Kyor glares fiercely the entire time I’m getting my dose of warmth but manages to remain quiet, which feels like progress. ‘We need to decide which way we’re heading now,’ Caz announces as she pores over her maps. ‘Do we want to go straight up to Rowell or detour to Galreck? Or we could just cut through Afaven Forest if we’re feeling brave?’ ‘Forest is a no,’ Kyor replies instantly. ‘Okay …’ Caz nods. ‘Then it’s a choice between pushing on to Rowell or heading to Galreck. It will add a couple of days to the journey, but Benny’s going that way anyway, and it’ll give us some rest and a chance to stock up on food, which seems sensible.’ ‘We should go straight up to Rowell,’ Ruben asserts. ‘It means we’re going to have to stretch our supplies, but it’s safer going through there. The terrain is supposed to be far easier for the horses.’ ‘We should go through Galreck,’ Kyor instantly fires back.
I wonder if Ruben had suggested Galreck, whether Kyor would currently be touting for us to go via Rowell. ‘I don’t mind going back to Galreck alone after Rowell,’ Benny throws in. ‘If you’d prefer to go to Rowell first rather than Galreck.’ ‘From what I’ve heard, the routes direct to Galreck aren’t nearly as good,’ Ruben counters. ‘Not this time of year.’ ‘Elska and I can scout ahead.’ Kyor rolls up his sleeves as he speaks. ‘We can find the best routes for the horses to take. Food is plentiful here, but it’ll get sparse as we go on. We have to restock in Galreck or we won’t make it to Rowell, let alone to the Issen.’ Kyor speaks with utter certainty. It’s the voice of experience, the voice of a commander. I wish to hell I didn’t find it as sexy as I do, but it’s hard not to imagine him ordering me around in different ways.
He left you, I remind myself.
Despite Kyor’s clear knowledge, Ruben begins to argue again and this time Benny wades in to mediate, though I don’t listen to which option he’s sided with. I don’t want to listen to this anymore.
I move away, trying to clear my thoughts, but their voices continue around and around my head, each speaking over one another, louder and louder, so that I can barely hear.
The noise is resonating through my skull and pounding behind my ears.
My mind doesn’t want me here, listening to this. This endless fucking bickering. Gods, I want to be anywhere but here.
And as an odd feeling washes down my body, I realise I’ve got my wish.
I OPEN MY EYES, and I don’t know where I am, but it’s a long way from Wrohelm, I can tell that much.
I am flying, soaring high in the sky. Below me, trees stretch, sparse and leafless, their bare branches swaying in the wind that seems to batter me just as fiercely. I duck down, trying to find a little cover from the blustering breeze, when I catch sight of something beneath the dark thicket.
People? Dancing?
Howls cut through the quiet. Is it some kind of ritual, perhaps? Some kind of ritual dance?
Intrigue – and a desire to avoid the wind’s wrath – takes hold of me as I dip lower to get a better look. That’s my immediate thought. A dance.
But as I get closer, I realise that’s not the case at all.
They’re not dancing. They’re fighting. And they’re not people. They’re wolves.
Red wolves? No, not wolves. Foxes, maybe.
What I’m seeing makes no sense. All I know for sure is that they’re feral, snarling creatures and they’re fighting with spears. But fighting what? I assumed it was one another, but now I’m not so sure.
With the desire to know more growing constantly stronger, I try to get closer, but something swipes at me. Or at least swipes in my direction.
Though I somehow know it’s not one of the foxes, I can’t tell what it is. I avoid the strike, but I’m still none the wiser as to who – or what – the foxes’ opponents are.
Getting closer’s not an option, not when the next strike might hit, so I back away a little, circling around.
As I move upwards, the wind buffets me harder than before, shaking me
from side to side, back and forth. I try to steady myself – to find a way to hide from its effects – but it only grows stronger, picking me up with a howl so resonant it feels like it’s calling out my name. ‘Rose! Rose!’ Another swipe comes out of nowhere and I twist and turn, trying to find the source. If I can see it, then maybe I can fight it. But I can’t. I can’t. I try swooping down again, willing to risk the spears of the fox folk, but the wind follows me, this time shaking me so hard I flinch.
The light changes. An instant brightness strikes for only a second, but then it’s gone again, and I’m back.
I’m back fighting the wind and the enemy and the fox folk. ‘Rose!’ The howls of the creatures shriek through the dark. These are not the type of beings who take prisoners – I know that – but I can’t die. Not now. Not when I’ve just got my brother back. The thought of William bolsters a new strength within me, a new desperation to get back, to help him, but it’s not enough. This wind is too strong. I twist and turn, writhing in its grip as I try to get away, only for my entire body to lurch to the side.
A GASP FLIES from my lungs as I sit bolt upright, squinting at the light that is now bright enough to blind. ‘Rosey? Rose! Thank fuck.’ Benny’s voice cuts through the haze, though I’m still trying to shake those howls from my ears. The screaming. What kind of animal screams like that? ‘Rose, what happened? Are you okay?’ Benny’s question hangs in the air until I realise it’s me who needs to answer.
Blinking, I turn to look at him. Only it’s not just Benny who is standing there.
Caz’s face is streaked with tears as Ruben holds her close to him, while Kyor is kneeling next to me on the icy ground, eyes sharp with concern.
‘I’m fine,’ I say.
We all know I’m lying. ‘Your eyes were white,’ Kyor murmurs. The tone in his voice is somehow even more disconcerting than the feel of his magic against my inner thighs used to be. His power, I knew what to do with. His fear, on the
other hand … Dryness fills my throat, and I lick my lips, trying to alleviate it. ‘I’m fine,’ I repeat, continuing to swallow. ‘Or I will be once we get going. Did we decide where we’re going?’ ‘Galreck,’ Kyor says, and no one gainsays him. ‘Right.’ I offer a flimsy smile, my heart still pattering in my chest.
This is why I needed out of Wrohelm. This is why I have to find a way to control this magic before I get myself or my friends killed. ‘I’ll ride with Caz,’ I blurt out, just to break the uncomfortable silence that has formed. Everyone is looking at me with concern, and I hate it. Hate being a damned liability.
Thankfully, just like with Kyor’s suggestion, no one disagrees.
