Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

Even though Conri clearly suspected my wounded ankle was a ruse, he still will have the pack staying an extra two days in the camp. I learn this when Evander comes to collect me in the morning. Conri was up with the dawn. I pretended to be asleep as he left. Even though I don't usually sleep late, I dozed for an extra few hours. It's been impossible to get quality sleep next to him when I'm so on edge from his presence.

"You are quiet today," Evander observes as we take a morning walk. I make it a point to favor my "good" ankle a little more, but not overly so. Given our conversation last night, the ruse is up.

"Sorry," I murmur.

"You've no need of apologies." He slows to a stop at the edge of camp, staring out over the grasslands that sway in the breeze, shimmering silver and gray among the low mists that permanently blanket these plains. "Did he… Is everything…" Evander shifts to face me, an expression of steely determination and deep concern etched into his face. "Did he do anything untoward last night?"

I look up at the knight. "My ‘sworn protector,'" I say softly. "Tell me, would you even protect me from him, if it came to it?"

"Without doubt." There's no hesitation. Hardly a delay at all, even. I don't know if he would've had the same answer when we arrived at Midscape almost a week ago.

"Evander—"

"I know what he is, what he's capable of. He has asked me to do and defend many heinous acts, but there are some that not even I will abide."

"What he's capable of…" I repeat softly, my gaze drifting back to the slowly sloping hills. "He didn't hurt me, Evander. Quite the contrary. The extra cot was to make me more comfortable because he expects nothing of me."

I can see Evander's lips purse from the corners of my eyes. He looks back out over the grasses as well. There are things he wants to say. The words are a weight in the air, but he doesn't alleviate the pressure.

"If I wanted to go and see what is over that hill"—I point to the distant horizon—"could you take me?"

Evander glances over his shoulder, back at the camp, no doubt looking for Conri. The king is nowhere to be seen. "If we were to stay in sight of the camp, it should be all right…"

"Especially if I demanded it of you for the sake of my magic?" I grin slightly.

Evander returns the expression. "Definitely so, in that case."

"Good, take me there."

On my request, he changes into his wolf shape. There's a ripple of magic and a curling of smoky haze in the air, like the last sigh of a soul leaving this mortal world. Fur ripples out from where there was once skin and broad muscles become strong legs that could carry me farther than the horizon.

Evander's silvery eyes meet mine. His wolfish expression is relaxed. Almost like a pup… I can't stop myself; I reach out. My hand hovers over his head and our eyes remain locked. Until his eyes dip closed and he tilts his chin up, pressing the soft fur between his ears against my palm.

A slight smile crosses my lips as I scratch between the ears. He seems to enjoy the act as much as a dog would. After a moment of savoring, Evander folds his legs under him, sitting in a manner that turns his body into a furry loaf of bread.

Grabbing his fur between the shoulders is almost second nature now, as is swinging my leg over. When he stands, I shift once, feeling him do the same. I change my grip and press my knees gently but firmly into his sides. We've been traveling for days, but something about leaving the camp feels different. It feels like the first time I was astride him all over again.

Evander can apparently sense the precise instant my resolve crystallizes, because he launches forward like an arrow let loose, soaring through the mist-laden morning. I incline slightly, pressing my abdomen and chest into the rippling strength of his back. My hands glide forward and loosely grip the fur on either side of his neck, rather than his shoulders. I imagine myself as one of the couriers I would see from time to time racing across the old streets and trade-ways, carrying letters and parcels for those privileged enough to purchase their services.

Except Evander is sleeker and faster than any horse I have ever beheld. He is half the size but three times the muscle. Every pounding of his feet against the earth hammers away my worries. The sensations of the wind tangling in my hair, his fur tickling my skin, the aroma of dew-kissed grasses…it strips away the layers of fear and worry from my bones, replacing it all with clarity the moment we arrive at the crest of that once distant hill.

Even though Evander was the one who ran, I am breathless. My eyes sting from the biting air and thin rivulets of tears streak down my cheeks from his pace. At least, I believe them solely the speed and wind's doing.

Evander eases himself to the ground and I hastily brush away the dampness before dismounting. Though I do not turn to face him—instead, I take a few steps forward and stare out over a landscape more breathtaking than any I have ever seen before.

My instincts about this particular crest of earth were founded. The land slopes gently down and away, providing a stunning vantage. To our left, soaring mountains loom like slate sentinels. A dense forest clusters their feet. Between here and there, and all around, is a large expanse of grass and mist, spotted with towers and small encampments with vast swaths of desolate beauty between. And at my right, so far in the distance that I must squint, is what appears to be a coastline.

"Is that the sea?" I point to the water in the distance.

"No, it is a lake."

"A lake?" I repeat, shocked, given its scale.

"Yes, the largest in Midscape. It is called Calduwyn. As some stories go, there was once a massive dragon that made that lake its bed. When it took to the skies, the hole it left behind filled with a hundred years of rain that watered the early earth," Evander says. "Though, I think most believe that to be an old legend that's more fiction than fact. Especially since other tales conflict."

"We have legends of dragons in the Natural World, too," I say.

"I know."

"Do you?" I lift my brows.

He shrugs. "I know some history of humans and the Natural World they occupy."

"And of witches," I point out.

Evander glances at me from the corners of his eyes. He could see the gentle probe into his history, but is clearly uninclined to proffer any information. Instead, he points to the mountains and shifts the topic. "Those are the mountains of the vampir. Though their ilk hasn't been seen for a thousand years. Not since the lykin had to sequester them to their frosty peaks to prevent their blight from sweeping across the lands."

Despite my fascination with the vampir, I return to the lake. I suspect I already know the answer, but I must ask anyway. "The siren, do they live there?"

"No, they live in the Eversea, which is in the waters far, far to the northwest. The most direct route would be to cross Calduwyn and then traverse the marshes that separate the northern fae wilds from the very edge of our world."

"Sounds easy enough," I murmur sarcastically.

"If you are asking for the sake of your plans of running away with Aurora, then I would say that your best chance would be to head to the southwest, not north." He points down at the forest, finger tracing up to beyond where my eyes can see. "The land route will be far easier than daring to brave the magic-steeped and strange waters of Calduwyn. Once you pass the edge of the forest, you'll be out of lykin land—which should free some of Aurora's powers."

"They were not freed from coming to the Natural World?"

He considers this. "You'd need to ask her. But my suspicion would be not, since that was once lykin territory as well."

Frustrating.

"Farther still," he continues, "you'll reach the large wall of the elves' territory. If you can make it to them, you could plea for an audience with the Elf King.

"They say his heart is made of ice, but you could try and beseech his Human Queen to take pity on you—she might out of fondness for her people, and he might warm out of pity for Aurora. If you can make it to the elves, I believe you would be safe. Conri would never dream of going against the Elf King."

"This Elf King is that powerful?" I am not keen on dealing with another king whose reputation is a heart of ice.

"He is the descendant of the ones who made both the Veil and the Fade, the barriers of the worlds. His power is monumental," Evander says with a note of reverence. "In the land of the elves, Conri's knights couldn't reach you. And if you have the Elf King's agreement, he might send an escort with you all the way to the siren. You'll want his help to cross through the fae wilds, too, given the rumors that they have become as bloody a landscape as the lykins' plains before our uniting."

"Midscape seems a dangerous place," I murmur.

"If the rumors are to be believed…but who knows what's to be true. Historically, all our peoples would work together, leaders meeting in Evalon for the Council of Kings to exchange information and work for the benefit of all peoples. But in modern times…Midscape is a fractured land. Every people keeping to themselves and deeply suspicious of the next."

Somewhere beyond the horizon, in a land that's as full of magic as it is danger…is our best chance of safety, locked behind an elf wall and in the hands of another king. But if there is a human queen then, surely, she too is a witch like me. She would take pity on us.

I might not place much stock in kings after my experiences with Conri, but I would bet on a fellow witch.

"How long will it take to get to the elves? How many days?"

"On two feet? I would guess four—no, five days, at least."

I bite my lower lip and sink to the ground, pulling my knees to my chest and settling them in the crooks of my elbows as I stare out over the hills, forest, mountains, and lake. Evander sits next to me. Close enough that I feel his warmth breaking through the morning's chill, but far enough away that there is no risk of us touching. I wonder if he's still aware of Conri's attention landing upon us.

"Evander, do you think that there is a chance that, maybe, Conri could help free Aurora?" The question is quiet. Small.

"No." The word is void of doubt.

"Even if there was a way to keep the lykin strong and united without her?" The conversation from the night prior continues to play in my mind.

"Conri would slaughter half the packs if it meant keeping Aurora's power solely to himself. He'd be a king of bones before being just another man."

"It's hard to reconcile what you tell me with what he says," I admit.

Evander grabs my arm, pulling my attention to him. He locks eyes with me. "Do not be drawn into him, through charm or whatever honeyed falsehood he espouses. Conri is not someone you can trust. He is not your ally, Faelyn."

"But he hasn't hurt me, so far," I point out.

"Other than forcing you to marry him."

"Given the position he's in, it's?—"

"Do not make excuses for him," Evander cuts me off coldly. "He is a king; there is always a way for a king to make what he wants happen, if he deems it important enough. He is the one who holds the power and makes the rules. If he wanted you to be free—Aurora to be free—you both would be. But instead he keeps you hoarded like treasures that are for him alone. Ready to kill anyone who so much as looks at you for too long."

I sigh and shift uncomfortably, keeping my attention over the landscape. "Perhaps what's happened with Aurora has scared him? Maybe he wants to start fresh with a new way of leading?"

"No. Not Conri." The words are bitten out.

"You truly hate him."

"The first thing he did, the moment he got his hands on Aurora's ring, was demand every alpha in the grasslands submit to him. Those that didn't were slaughtered. At just seventeen, he killed pups in their dens with his own claws and teeth." Evander draws his knees to his chest, mirroring me, gripping his hands around them to the point that his knuckles are white. The flexing of his muscles highlights the scars that cover him.

"He hurt you, as well," I say softly.

Evander slowly turns to face me. His expression is hollow. Void enough for ghosts long dead to live in those eyes the color of the morning's fog.

"He took something from me far more precious than my flesh." His tone has gone quiet, low, slow.

"Aurora told me about your pack," I whisper.

"Yes, my pack, my history, my father, right before my very eyes." The shadows over Evander's eyes darken. "And he took from me the woman I loved."

Ah, love and revenge . I give a small nod and turn back to the landscape before me. I wonder if Conri killed this woman. Or if he "took" her in other ways. Regardless, Evander has plenty of reasons—good reasons, I admit—to hate Conri.

But I need to focus on myself and Aurora foremost. Evander's motivations for hating Conri are his own, and I can use them to our advantage. They're worth considering and keeping in mind. But if there's a way to get Conri on my side, I must try. Seeing the seemingly endless expanse of Midscape has cemented that for me.

I don't know what "getting him on my side" will mean yet…but if there's a chance, I will take it. Not just for Aurora's sake, but also for my own. Perhaps all of the lykin. If I can help temper his ways, then maybe there will be a benefit for us all.