Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

This is wonderful. Absolutely perfect . The most important thing for me to do right now is keep my wits about me and have me focus on anything other than carnal urges.

But I am astride Evander in his wolf form as he runs at Conri's right side. Even though I try, desperately, to focus on the breathtaking scenery unfolding before me as I had before, every bump and dip of Evander's spine hitting me right between the legs brings my mind right back to the thing I'm trying to ignore. I shift my positioning, which only makes things worse.

The whole pack runs behind us. We left the campsite a few hours ago and there's been nothing but misty, unbroken grassland since. I'm being taken farther into a vast unknown of Midscape—a land of magic. I should be focusing on deepening my powers, getting in tune with Aurora's within me, communing with spirits, studying the landscape to plan my escape.

Literally. Anything. Else.

But my mind continues to revert to wondering just how long it's been since I was last pleasured. I gather my cloak around me and grip Evander's fur tighter, trying to recall what I was told before we began to move.

We'll be at another pack's encampment by the end of the day. Conri is going to collect them on the journey to Gualla—the main city of the lykin, but that's not the place known as Den where Conri and I will wed. That means tonight, hopefully, I can find some time alone to satiate some of these urges…assuming Conri doesn't steal me away to his tent again immediately.

"Aurora," I say, loud enough that I trust Conri and Evander to both hear over the wind and thumping of the pack's paws against the ground. Conri was insistent that the moon spirit ride upon him. But I am kept expectedly close. "When we arrive at this other encampment, should I go to your tent so that you can commune with the powers of yours that are within me?"

She's confused for only a second. Comprehension lifts her brows. "Oh, yes, that would be important. Perhaps Evander can guard us from outside the tent during that time, as we must be alone for the magic to work."

Evander glances back, his large wolf head shifting with his run. Conri's attention is on us as well.

"I'm sure we will figure it out when we arrive," I say brightly. Not wanting to arouse too much suspicion by harping on the matter.

The grassy plains we run through are seemingly endless. An ocean of pale green, almost silver in the sunlight, shining through a thin layer of haze that perpetually hovers over. The tall grasses go on, and on, rolling slightly.

There are no trees, no shrubs, nothing. That makes the tall, unnatural structure in the distance stand out all the more. I squint through the fog, trying to make out what it is.

"Aurora—"

"It's a watchtower, left over from the days of feuding packs—every pack had one to mark their territory," she answers my question before I can ask. "In modern times, they're rarely used for more than anchors for the barriers and blessings on the land of the lykin."

My eyes follow it as we pass, until it vanishes once more into the fog. The next structure I see is the encampment. Like the tower, it appears as a dark dot on the horizon that grows into a grouping of tents and lykin.

The people are much the same as Conri's pack—as varied in appearance as humans are. But the tents are slightly different. Even though their construction is much the same, there are three red stripes on one side and two blue dots on the other.

I ask Aurora about the latter as we slow toward the center of the encampment. She explains a bit more on the history of the lykin—how every pack was once governed on their own, independent of all others. And how the packs that bent to the king were allowed to keep portions of their previous identities.

It reminds me of the townships in the Natural World. Each can govern themselves, to a point, but usually there are councils that rule over each region. I know there is one for where I am and, technically, its laws would rule over me. But I never gave them much heed. No lawmen would go all the way to the edge of the woods to ensure Grandma and I were heeding their arbitrary ways. The only others who lived remotely close to us were the huntsman and his son…and neither of them was going to turn us in. Not when Liam and I were…

The wolves come to a stop, blessedly jarring me from my thoughts. Aurora dismounts and I do the same. My legs are still stiff from the first day of riding on wolf-back, but I know better now how to manage myself on Evander to prevent too much stiffness. At least I don't feel like I'm about to tumble over on my way to the ground.

Most of the lykin change to their human forms, shrugging off their packs and handing them to others who approach to assist. It is convenient that all clothing and possessions on the lykin are held in some kind of stasis when they transform. It makes travel far easier than Aurora and I will face, whenever we run.

All the eyes of the pack whose camp we've entered remain on Conri, expectant. What I find truly fascinating is how their attention starts on me, then goes to him and sticks. I doubt they could look away if they tried; they're instantly enamored. His mere essence has them fixated on him even when the oddity of a human witch is in their midst.

I pull my cape tighter around me, even though its protection is the same regardless of how open or closed it is—all that matters is that it's on my shoulders.

Yet, even with it, I am drawn to him just like the rest of them. Even knowing of his magic charm and wanting to resist…I find myself looking in his direction more often than not. Admiring the way his long, brown hair has escaped the bun at the nape of his neck. The way sweat rolls down over the wolf's paw tattoo in the center of his chest, making my own tighten. My ribs compress on my lungs. My shirt is too tight. I might?—

Aurora touches the back of my hand gently.

I blink several times and it's as though I'm waking from a trance. Conri must have been speaking for some time because all of a sudden there's a chorus of howls lifting to the dusky sky. He grabs my right hand and hoists it, as though we have accomplished an unknown victory. Aurora's hand is in my left.

It strikes me that we three are some kind of odd, singular entity. All separate individuals, yet three parts of one whole. Aurora and I share the magic that Conri needs. He offers us protection and a place in this society. I'm an anchor between him and Aurora…and possibly the rest of the spirits alongside the Natural World.

Maybe another woman in my shoes would be elated by being so needed. So wanted. To have the possibility of not just one partner, but two.

Unfortunately for me, I am not that woman.

"Let us retreat to our tent, my future queen," Conri says to me.

"I need some time with Aurora," I say, glancing away to avoid looking into his eyes. The haze of the charm is worse when I do.

Conri doesn't allow it, resting his fingertips on my chin and guiding my attention to be solely on him. I can almost feel the crackle of magic over my skin as the cape tries to protect me from his forced charm. Disgust can beat out obsession. It must. So I root myself in that emotion.

"What is it you need to do together? Be my good girl and tell me true." He's trying to worm out any kind of deceit or lie. I can't tell if he is actually suspicious, or if this is just his nature.

You owe him nothing; he's trying to manipulate you, I remind myself. "She is going to spend time with the part of her powers within me. It is important for her to have time to commune with them to keep up her own strength."

"And I will help ensure Faelyn can leverage those powers to continue defending against the withering," Aurora says. "Along with whatever else you desire of her."

"Shouldn't her magic as a witch be enough to protect against the withering?" Conri glances over at Aurora, but only for a second. I wonder if he knows that my resolve will be easier to break than the spirit's. That assumption only makes me want to be even stronger. "I had thought the withering was not a concern since she already possesses magic within her?"

"We can never be too careful." Aurora keeps her tone serious. "This world is not made for humans—the opposite, in fact. Save for the Human Queen, of course. I would like to keep a close eye on her to be safe."

"Well, I can have nothing happen to my blushing bride." Conri gives me a warm smile and squeezes my hip lightly. "Go on, then, I'll see you later." He glances around, his hand lingering on me. "Evander! Keep a close eye on them."

The lykin knight approaches, abandoning helping the others set up camp for the night. "My liege."

"You are responsible henceforth for my dear Faelyn. See to it that nothing happens to her or else the consequences will be yours to bear."

"Yes, my king." Evander bows his head, hair falling in front of his face. He looks subservient at a glance—and Conri is merely glancing. But I see the hard press of his mouth into a line. Almost like a grimace.

Aurora is right… He holds no love for Conri. But that doesn't mean he's a natural ally for us by default.

The longer I try to make sense of Evander, the harder he is to understand. There's so much to him. Every turned stone reveals deeper secrets still. Never have I met someone so frustrating, but also so intriguing.

"This way. Your tent was set up first," he says to Aurora.

"Don't be too long." Conri gives me one more squeeze and a wink before releasing my hip. "I'm not a man who likes to be kept waiting." Even though the words are coy and playful, there is a note of warning underneath them that I can't ignore.

I merely nod and follow Evander to Aurora's tent, relieved to be free of Conri.

The lykin knight remains poised outside the tent. Arms folded. A statue of grumpiness and muscle. But an oddly comforting one, given the alternative.

"Evander." I pause, tent flap in hand. His eyes swing in my direction. "You still had my things when we arrived at the first camp. Do you think you could get them and bring them to me?"

"I will look into it." He nods and I disappear inside the tent.

As soon as Aurora and I are alone, the air seems lighter. The fading light somehow brighter, despite being filtered through the thick canvas. Her tent is as nice as Conri's—a cot instead of just a bedroll, a small table and chair that look like they both can fold up to be carried on someone's back.

"What is it that you need?" Aurora asks.

"My grandmother's sewing supplies." I dare to take off my cape.

"Ah, right, weaver witches," she says with a slight smile. "The first instance of humans ever being able to harness magic was with a thread of it. A shame you were broken away from Midscape and all its magic so prematurely. Who's to know what could've happened for humanity, otherwise."

"So, all humans can have magic?" I ask.

She nods. "The dryads did not make the humans with the intention of being magic-less. They just were poor teachers and magic is variable. Every creature must come into their magic in their own way, making it hard for one to effectively teach another."

"Dryads?"

"Yes, an early folk of the forests. Not quite fae, not quite primordial spirit. An early iteration of life made by Lady Safina's hand, more or less in her image."

"Lady Safina…" The name strikes a vague memory, a folklore I learned long ago. "Old Goddess of Life—the one you wish to go to?"

"Just so." Aurora nods and sits on her cot. "The only one who could build a mortal body that could house a spirit, and split my magic so that I could occupy that body."

I sit beside her, listening as she speaks.

"The spirits were friends with the old gods when the world was small. We all existed side-by-side. Think of the spirits like small gods of this world…and the old gods the keepers of the Great Beyond, of the universe in its whole."

A small laugh escapes me.

She's understandably confused. "What is amusing?"

"I find it incredible…old gods, spirits with true forms. Though I wish you were not in the situation you are stuck in now."

"That makes two of us."

Evander ducks his head inside the tent and holds out my two satchels. "Here."

I quickly retrieve them, confirming that all the contents of my basket are inside. Everything is, save for one potato. Though I suspect that more likely rolled out when Bardulf tackled me rather than being thieved.

"Thank you," I say earnestly, allowing him to see the sincerity in my eyes.

It seems to startle him. "You're welcome," he mutters hastily and then leaves.

I sit back on the cot, unfastening the button and opening the top flap of the embroidered satchel. Inside are bundles of thick thread, undyed and tightly wound. Atop them is a thin, fabric folio, where smaller loops of colored thread are coiled and buttoned behind flaps. I run my index fingertip over the lengths of four needles.

"What is each needle for?" Aurora asks.

"Bone is for the body—protection of the flesh, healing. Silver is for objects—mending, sturdiness. Redwood for the spirits—evoking, summoning. Gold is for the heart and mind." I take the gold needle. "We spun the threads in spring and summer…after the sheep were sheared in the village. I would brush out the wool and Grandmother would work the wheel. We both would collect the dyes from the forests throughout the year—me more so at the end. She would boil the ingredients in her cauldron over Folost, who always knew just what heat would draw out the best color. Mary helped with the recipes and guiding me in the woods."

"And the thread held on to the magic you summoned through the ritual." Aurora pulls a length from the folio, inspecting it. I can almost see the wool shimmer underneath her fingers in the same way that it would in Folost's flickering light. "It's such a clever leveraging of the magic for a people who found it slippery to hold on to." She smiles faintly and I wonder just how many early humans—early witches—she would watch over in her moonlight.

"The right combination of ritual, thread, and needle makes all the difference. But it also requires a skilled, magical hand."

"One you have." It sounds like she's reassuring me of my doubts. Either I am transparent, or Aurora knows me all too well already.

"Let's hope so." I take the cape in my lap, gathering a small section at the base of the hood, and begin to sew.

I've chosen a yellow thread. We dyed it last summer with onion peels, the sharp scent to fill the mouths of any who would speak ill, rhubarb to purify the mind, and turmeric for trusting in one's gut. The cottage had smelled of warm spices, like a stew was cooking all day. As I pull on the needle, I bring it up to my face and inhale deeply, trying to get the last dredges of that aroma to remind me of those times with my grandmother.

It only smells like the stale fabric of her sewing folio now.

"What are you singing?" Aurora asks, interrupting my focus.

"Oh." I hadn't even realized I'd begun to hum. "I'm not sure. It's just something Grandma would always do when she worked on the cape."

A slight smile curves her lips. "It is like a siren song."

"I don't think I'm luring sailors to their deaths anytime soon." I grin in reply.

Aurora chuckles. "Sirens use songs to draw out their magic. They are often the music of the soul—which is in the tongue of the old gods that came before us all. A very ancient form of magic, that."

"I didn't learn any words of old gods, either." I keep focused on my stitches. I'm nearly finished.

"That you know of." Aurora leans back, resting her palms behind her. "To think, the mystery of unlocking human's magic was merely to apply the right combination of all the others…"

I don't respond, keeping focused on the design. It's an eight-pointed star, each point in the cardinal directions a little longer than the other four points. I shift slightly, ensuring I am facing true north like the star it's meant to represent.

Keep me on my course , I will into it, guide me. Ensure my thoughts are true and my heart is steadfast. Let none lead me astray from my true desires .

When I finish, I tie off the thread with a sturdy knot and cut it with the small blade in Grandma's kit. My kit now, I suppose , I think somewhat sadly as I roll up the thread. I shake my head to try and shake the sorrow that clouds my mind. She wouldn't want me to be sad, and this was mine to inherit, anyway.

"Did it not work?" Aurora straightens, looking over at my stitches.

"I think it did." I try to sound optimistic. It'd be stronger if I had some kind of spirit binding to also weave into the spell. But I know of no spirit that would help me with this goal. "There's one way to find out for sure."

"Let's hope it does work, because the hardest part is ahead." Each word is heavier than the last, her expression more severe.

"What is it?" My stomach tightens, making me slightly nauseous. What could possibly be harder?

"Being alone with him tonight." She catches my worried gaze with one of her own. "It is likely that he will make you remove your cloak…and that he will suggest that things don't stop there."

A scarlet heat rises in me, fueled by panic. I quickly grab the thread, choosing red like my cape, yellow like the star I just stitched, and black to ground me. I braid them together, humming again as I do. When I'm finished, I grab my larger hunting knife to tear through all the threads at once. Then, I hold the strand out to Aurora.

"Tie it around my wrist." I thrust out my hand. "It's a small thing so he might not know what it is. It won't offer as much protection as my cape but?—"

"It's something for while the cape is off," she says with a nod of approval, fastening it around my wrist. Her eyes fall to the blade. "May I see it?"

"What?" I follow her focus. "Oh, this?" Without a moment's hesitation, I hand her the knife. It's a simple blade, unadorned, not special in any way, but she twists it, watching the light flash off the flat as though it is a relic.

"I've never been able to hold a weapon before…" she murmurs.

"Because Conri is rightfully afraid you would attack him?"

"Yes. Though, as in most things, his paranoia isn't rooted in reality. So long as I am kept within the barriers of the lykin's plains, my oath holds and I can't harm the wolf king," she says solemnly. "Still… May I keep it?"

"Sure." I hand her the leather sheathe, which she returns the blade to and slips into her boot. It seems an odd request for a woman who's magically bound to not bring harm to the one person she'd no doubt want to…but I imagine after being captive and helpless for so long, even the imagining of being able to fight back is an indulgent fantasy.

"Thank you."

"You've helped me so much, it's the least I can do." Besides, I have another blade in the sewing kit. Smaller, but still effective. "What else can I do to fend off his charm? I won't allow myself to succumb to it again; I will not give in."

"Keep your cape on for as long as possible. Seek out my magic through this. Let it ground you." Her fingertips touch the hastily made bracelet. "And, if you can…you should try to find your own satisfaction before he can elicit the need."

That suggestion is back. My cheeks are surely blazing now. "Could you…step outside?"

Aurora purses her lips. "I don't think I could without suspicion. But I have an idea."

"What?" I'm ready to take any suggestion, any advice that might help. I will not betray Aurora again by giving into Conri.

"Evander," she calls to the entrance of the tent.

Oh, old gods…anything but that .