Chapter 48
hen I awaken, my limbs feel heavy. My body wants me to turn over and go back to sleep, but the bustling of the camp around meW tells me it is time to get moving.
Reluctantly, I open my eyes and stretch. The sky is grey and heavy, the previously burning tree trunk now nothing more than a pile of ash.
Sure enough, the others are up and packing their belongings, save for Kyor, who is still by my side as if he feared leaving me sleeping for even a moment.
As I sit up, I feel the rest of the group eyeing Kyor and me, noting our unusually close position. But even more intrusive than their speculative gazes is the new presence within me.
In sleep, our minds became helplessly tangled again.
Fen’s joy at being reunited with Elska is sharp, his relief at being alive just as keen, and his guilt – at feeling such joy while Zelle is dead and gone – sucker-punches me.
Trembling, I reach out and touch the earth next to me, let my fingers curl into the cold, hard ground. ‘You got this?’ Kyor asks, aware of exactly what I’m doing as I focus on breathing in and out.
I nod once and he rises, moving away, giving me space to disentangle my thoughts from Fen’s. The process is gradual and not something I intend to rush. Only when I’m sure he and I are two beings again do I hesitantly reach
out to him.
How are you feeling, big guy?
I am well. His answer is flat and stubborn, as if he will never give me any
other answer to that question. Do not call me ‘big guy’. I am no man.
Big wolf? I offer.
He sniffs. I am not a mere wolf, Little Raven. I am a dire wolf.
Well, if we’re being technical about it, I’m not a raven.
Little Raven is a dignified nickname. He sniffs. Big guy is a soldier with brawn and no brains, and a dick that scrapes on the ground.
The image makes me snicker aloud as he no doubt intended.
I decide to drop the apparently contentious subject of nicknames. Are you up for walking a bit today?
A slight huff resonates through my skull. Walking? I have braved the frozen fields of the Issen. Pushed myself to the brink of starvation. Spent days in the wilderness to the west. Wandered— So that’s a yes, then? I cut in.
Of course it is, he snippily replies. Of course I can walk. I am a wolf.
A dire one, I amend cheekily, and I feel his shimmer of amusement before he draws away.
Feeling buoyed by my first interaction of the day, I turn my attention to the rest of the group. Kyor has moved to stand with Ruben. As far as I can see, they seem to be having a perfectly civil conversation, but it’s the remaining males – Benny and Loch – whom I choose to join. ‘Morning, Rose. How are you feeling?’ Benny asks as he sees me approach. ‘We’ve just packed up some rabbit leftovers if you want something to eat?’ I shake my head. Everyone is geared up and ready to move, and I don’t want to delay them. Besides, I’ve been hungry plenty of times before. I can cope with the pangs until lunchtime. ‘I’m fine for now, thank you,’ I say before glancing at Loch. He’s not pacing the way he was before, but rocking back and forth, muttering to himself. ‘The stone’s in the light. Oh, it should be dark, but it is light, light, light.’ He’s back to that rambling voice, and my stomach sinks. My moss earplugs might be doing something to help him, but I fear it’s not enough.
I lean into Benny, trying to hide my concern. ‘How is he?’ I murmur. ‘He’s doing … okay,’ Benny finally says.
We both turn to gaze at the older Islander, who’s doing a great job at pretending like he’s not listening. Maybe he isn’t. Maybe there are too many other things within his range of hearing for him to be interested in our
mutterings, including, apparently, sun-kissed rocks. ‘We’re not far from Rowell,’ I start. ‘This is the closest we’re going to get to a main city for the rest of this trip. We might pass a few small villages in Agoyd, but they won’t have the expertise to help Loch. I know how important he is to you.’ Loch is the last of the Eastern Isles Rettlings. If anything happened to him – anything more than what has already left him in this state – Benny would be devastated.
The future duke doesn’t respond at first. Doesn’t want to. Instead, he lifts his arm to rub the back of his neck. I might not have the ability to hear his thoughts the way I do with Fen, but it’s not hard to know what he’s thinking.
How he’s weighing up what’s best for him and for Loch.
Silence starts to fill the space between us, and as much as I don’t want to say the words that will mean my best friend has to leave me, I know I have to. ‘Maybe you need to take him home, Ben.’ Instinctively, Benny shakes his head. ‘No … I don’t know. Going to the Eastern Isles means heading to a port and getting on a busy boat. I don’t think he’d cope with that right now. This is a small group. He’s … anchored with us, for now. He was alone in the forest for a long time. It’s just going to take a while for him to adjust. But he’s getting better. I know he is.’ As much as I want to share Benny’s optimism, it’s hard. Yes, Loch’s been on his own for a long time, and I can’t imagine the type of horrors he’s faced, not if the Rottings are anything to go by. But he was already losing his grip on reality well before he disappeared in the trial. He and Seiren were a matched pair – him with his mutterings, and her with her accidentally plunging us all into illusions at a whim. The abandonment may have exacerbated his condition, but it didn’t start it. ‘Okay,’ I say, drawing a breath. ‘But we need to monitor him. If he’s putting anyone at risk, and that includes himself —’ ‘Agreed,’ Benny jumps in. ‘But he won’t. I promise.’ It feels like a promise he can’t keep, but I don’t call him on it.
As we draw our conversation to an end, Kyor stalks over, some bread in
his hand. He thrusts it at me. ‘Eat.’ I blink and take the food. ‘What?’ ‘I just offered her rabbit,’ Benny says, yet Kyor doesn’t so much as
glance at him.
‘Elska says you’re hungry. Eat.’ ‘How does Elska know that?’
‘Fen,’ he grunts simply.
He’s cross with me again. I sigh. ‘If you’re hungry,’ Kyor snaps, ‘Fen feels it. It’ll affect him too. You need to eat, if not for you, then for your dire wolf. You’re bonded now. You
need to remember that and act like it.’ A moment later, he’s striding away. ‘It seems too early in the day for him to be mad at me,’ I say jokingly to Benny. ‘He cares about you, so he’s annoyed you’re not taking care of yourself.’ He pauses. ‘I offered you food. Why didn’t you take it?’ ‘I … I didn’t want to slow us down. Besides, I’m just used to going without.’ His eyes soften. ‘Well, next time, don’t.’ As the last of the provisions are sorted and packs are tightened, I realise how much things have changed.
Now that he isn’t soaking wet and is on firm land, I can see that Fen stands like a small horse in wolf form, all ruff and shoulder and quiet authority. He’s bigger than Elska by almost a foot, and she is huge for a dire wolf. As much as he hates it, Big Guy totally works as a nickname.
It does not! His protest is instant and makes me grin.
Excuse me! Can you at least tell me when you’re going to be listening to my thoughts?
You want me to clear my throat every time I join our minds for me to communicate with you? His voice is incredulous.
Yes please.
That is utterly absurd! Fen huffs. Just assume I’m always listening in.
That’s probably the easiest thing to do.
Easiest for you!
I look at my huge dire wolf. By rights, I should be trembling in fear, but I know with absolute certainty that Fen would rip off his own paw before hurting me.
I would quite like to remain intact, however, he notes drily as he gently nuzzles my hand with his head in unspoken reassurance that he would, of
course, never harm me.
I would prefer that too, I admit.
Thanks to his size, Fen will have no problem carrying me and a raft of supplies, which would definitely ease some of the burden on the horses.
Benny could then ride my horse, who is significantly less skittish than the mare he’s been stuck with.
I’m sorry. Are you considering using me as a donkey? Fen’s outrage fires
through me.
Erm … no? ‘Rose, are you okay?’ I hear Ruben’s voice, but I can’t quite respond, my
thoughts too busy sniping with Fen.
‘She’s arguing with Fen,’ Kyor grunts.
‘In her head?’ Ruben questions.
‘That’s how it works.’ ‘That’s … amazing.’ ‘He’s not thrilled about the idea of me riding him,’ I say aloud.
I knew most dire wolves don’t let their bonded ride them. Most storm into battle next to their horse-mounted knight. It gives Morathka two soldiers instead of one. Without a rider, a dire wolf can leap and snap and snarl and claw and rip without regard for their bonded’s safety.
I knew all that, but having ridden Elska a number of times now, I had assumed wrongly.
And I’m not the only one having trouble with my dire wolf, it seems.
Every time Kyor tries to mount Elska, she moves away by a few inches.
He is getting exasperated. ‘I told you,’ he says aloud, ‘holding you with my magic was for your own sake. It kept you alive! I won’t apologise for my actions.’ He folds his arms and glares.
Elska turns her back on him, her tail between her legs, and lies down pointedly.
Kyor sighs. He tries to crouch next to her, but every time he gets close, she shifts away again. ‘Els,’ he says softly. ‘I’m sorry. I was scared for you. I won’t do it again.’ For a moment, I think she won’t relent, but finally she turns and licks his face. Then she drives her head into his chest in a headbutt, and Kyor meets her, his arms locking around her neck as the two of them wrestle.
Did you want to do that? I ask Fen, unsure if such rambunctious play is required of me.
Absolutely not! he replies, aghast. I’m not a pup!
Nor is Elska, I point out. She’s having fun.
His voice softens. It is rare for her to play so. She feels the need to reestablish their closeness. She has been distressed.
Sympathy wells within me. Who knew Kyor’s wolf was such a complex creature?
Kyor is grinning broadly, his eyes flashing with joy. It’s the happiest I’ve seen him in ages. Then he looks at Elska and something wicked flashes across his face. ‘Els says you can ride with us, Rose, if Fen won’t carry you.’ I have a horse. I should ride the horse. That would be the sensible choice.
Yet I can’t resist the idea of feeling Kyor’s arms around me for a few hours at least. ‘Sure,’ I say against all better judgement.
I load the bags onto the horse, and Caz secures the mount to her own. She flashes me a broad grin and winks. ‘I’d ride with him too.’ I ignore the wink and the teasing. There’s nothing salacious about me riding Elska. It’s just an opportunity to talk with Kyor about dire wolf bonds,
that’s all.
It’s only sensible.
Elska lowers herself down. I mount her and settle against Kyor’s broad frame. It’s heaven to be against him, even if only for snatched moments like this.
Outrage slams into me. You are not riding on another dire wolf!
I do seem to be, I fire back as sagely as I can, though I know he’ll feel my
amusement all the same.
Get off Elska! Right now!
Elska’s gait is comfier than a horse’s, so I think I’ll stay put.
Silence. Heavy, grumpy silence. Then, Fine. Climb upon my back if you must. It will restrict my ability to defend you, and I will be the laughingstock of the pack, but if your rear end must be comfortable, who am I to say otherwise? he rumbles sulkily.
Elska is not the laughingstock of the pack, I point out.
Her bonded can call down lightning. Only a fool would laugh at them.
Can you call down lightning?
I … no. But as you saw, I can call vines.
Wonderful, you can grow our foes some flowers.
My ability saved your life! I snap.
He softens, all outrage gone in an instant. So it did.
Fen comes and stands next to Elska. My apologies. Slide off my mate and climb upon me, he instructs.
I’m about to respond when the realisation of his words strikes me fast
enough to steal my breath.
Your mate!
Don’t know everything yet, do you, Little Raven? Fen’s smug amusement rattles through me. Now hop down.
His tone is entreating, but I don’t do as he asks. Instead, I twist in Kyor’s arms. ‘Elska is Fen’s mate?’ His lips purse, and he looks faintly nervous. ‘I promise, I was going to tell you. I wasn’t keeping it a secret. It was just difficult finding the right moment. It’s why she was so distressed when Fen was in the water.’ A smirk flickers on his lips. ‘Although in terms of your relationship with her, it’s definitely helped. You know, if you were still worried about her wanting to kill you.’ I know he’s trying to inject some humour into the situation, and I find myself believing him when he says he was going to tell me, but still, I can’t
help but gape. ‘They’re mates?’ I repeat dumbly. ‘Indeed,’ Kyor says. The smirk drops, and I can see he is less than thrilled about our current development. Stormy blue eyes meet mine. ‘We are as entangled as it is possible to be, Thorn.’ ‘You knew Fen wouldn’t stand for me riding on Elska instead of him,’ I accuse. ‘I knew there was a fair chance,’ he agrees. ‘And if he had?’ Kyor flashes me an irresistible grin. ‘Then at least I would have had you in my arms for a few hours.’ His words make my heart lift. We’ve not mentioned the words we shared before I fell asleep, so maybe it’s time we do.
As I dismount from Elska, I turn and look him in the eye. ‘Just so we’re clear, you don’t have to wait until I’m half-dead to pull me into your arms next time.’ He smiles – a true smile that reaches his eyes – and my heart aches to see it. ‘Good to know, Thorn.’ He nods at Fen. ‘Good luck on your first solo
ride.’ ‘Thanks.’ With one last flash of a grin, he and Elska lope off to scout ahead, leaving
me with my own dire wolf.
My own dire wolf.
Of all the deluded events of the last five moons – defeating a jötunn, freeing a kraken, winning the gifting, learning of my sister’s accidental pregnancy and subsequent marriage to Jonas, and discovering that my brother yet lives – this somehow feels more implausible than them all.
I am bonded not just to a dire wolf, but to the most magnificent dire wolf I have ever seen. Magnificence that radiates from more than just his height or build.
Fen was bonded to a commander of the army, a warrior whose skill and strength in battle were only surpassed by his integrity and compassion outside
of it.
And now I have that same bond.
Nervous excitement flutters through my chest as I approach him, ready to mount. Yet Fen remains standing tall, looking at me impatiently.
Well, crouch down, I say. Elska crouches down for me.
He sniffs. I said you could ride on me. I didn’t say I’d make it easy for you.
The soaring pride and happiness of moments ago falters.
He’s not going to make it easy for me? I grind my teeth and hope my annoyance scorches through the bond.
Of all the dire wolves in the whole of the world, I had to land the most stubborn one.
Like calls to like, apparently, he shoots back before relenting a little.
Fen lowers himself just enough to make a point of how little effort he intends to expend to help me climb onto him. I eye the broad span of his back, the thick ruff of rust-coloured fur bristling beneath my fingers.
This is a terrible idea.
I place one foot against his flank and attempt to haul myself up with what
I hope passes for dignity.
It does not.
I slip, scrabble, and end up clutching a handful of fur as my boot skids
uselessly.
Fen does not move.
You’re doing this wrong, he observes coolly.
Oh, am I? I gasp, hauling again. Perhaps you’d like to demonstrate the correct way?
I would not debase myself. I’m sure you’ll grasp the basics shortly.
I swallow a growl of my own and manage to get one knee up, only to
promptly lose my balance and thump chest-first against his back with an undignified huff.
Somewhere behind me, I hear Benny choke on a laugh. I’m glad someone is having fun.
Fen sighs. Loudly. Deeply. A sigh of long-suffering. At least you are light for one who makes so much fuss.
I finally swing my other leg over and collapse forward, arms wrapped around his neck, cheek buried in warm fur.
There. Mounted, I announce, breathless. Try not to shake me off. I don’t want to break any bones.
You are stubborn, Little Raven, he mutters, straightening at last. But his amusement hums faintly through the bond all the same. He talks as if he didn’t just force me to wrestle him like an uncooperative mountain.
In one smooth motion Fen rises to his feet. The moment would have been elegant if I weren’t still struggling to fix my grip. Instead, I wobble, windmill briefly, and then clamp down instinctively, my fingers fisting in his fur too hard.
Fen stumbles half a step, catches himself, and freezes.
My fur is attached to me, Little Raven, he says with icy restraint. Do not rip it off. I would look absurd with bald patches.
Mortified, I loosen my grip at once. Sorry. I’m not used to … this much wolf.
His back is wider than Elska’s, the muscles shifting differently beneath me, his gait longer and more powerful. Where Elska moves like lightning held in check, Fen is all steady momentum and coiled strength, each step rolling through his shoulders. Without Kyor’s arms around me, there’s nothing to anchor me but instinct and faith.
You are wiggling, Fen informs me as we move forward.
I am not wiggling.
You are absolutely wiggling.
I try to still myself, shifting my weight carefully. That only makes things worse. Fen’s ears flick back, and he lets out a low, put-upon huff.
This is highly inefficient, he mutters. Wolves are not meant to be
burdened with … squirming.
You offered, I remind him.
You forced me to! And I did not anticipate this level of movement.
We make it another few steps before I slide sideways, overcompensating,
and thump lightly against his shoulder. Fen stops dead.
If you fall, he says calmly, I will not catch you. That would encourage future recklessness.
I grin suddenly because I can feel the lie in his words. You absolutely would catch me.
I would, he admits with a huff. But I would complain about it. A lot.
Despite myself, I laugh, the sound easing the knot of tension in my chest.
I loosen my grip and focus again, breathing in time with his movement, letting my body follow the motion rather than fight it.
Gradually, the rocking settles, Fen’s stride evens out, and my balance
finds its centre.
Better, he concedes after a moment.
Thank you.
We move on together then, still adjusting, still learning, but no longer quite so precarious. His warmth seeps into me, solid and reassuring, and I let myself trust the rhythm at last.
This is amazing, I say. And it is. With my connection to Fen, I can feel the direction we’re moving, brace the moment before he leaps over an obstacle, and revel in the moments he picks up speed. I don’t need Kyor’s arms anchoring me when I can anticipate what is coming. Don’t need to fear abrupt twists and sharp turns. This is everything I thought bonding with a dire wolf would be, and far, far more.
Fen’s pride rumbles through me, quiet and pleased. My heart lifts in response.
I don’t know what the future will bring for either of us, but I’m relieved we won’t face it alone.
