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Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

That night I decide to make a shelter for us to sleep in, one sturdy enough that it could serve Aurora and me. Evander lends his assistance at my guidance.

"I would think you would be better at this." I chuckle and take the branch from his grasp, showing him again how to weave it with the others to form a roof of saplings for the hovel we're making.

"You've seen the Lykin Plains; there aren't a lot of trees there. Ask me to set up a tent and I will have it done for you in seconds." Evander makes another attempt, with much better success than the last four.

"This is not that much different than setting up a tent."

He huffs. "A tent is vastly different. It has a precise way it comes together. There's far less of all these fiddly bits." He struggles with another branch. This time I let him and he figures it out. "How did you learn to do this, anyway?"

"My mother taught me," I say.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up something difficult for you." He tries to hide a flash of guilt in his focus as he twists the small, soft branches.

"Don't be sorry. It's all right." I flash him a smile as proof. "You said it yourself, grief can be strange. I'm fine to talk about her—and Grandma. I want to . I don't want to let grief become fear of their memories. I love them far too much for that."

He shares in my smile before returning his focus to weaving. We're making good progress and this shelter should hold not just for days or weeks, but possibly months. Though I hope it won't take me that long to escape with Aurora…

"My mother taught me how I could use the forest for protection and sustenance. So did my grandma, after. But she was older, then, and her hip was already starting to ache so she couldn't go as far or want to be out for as long," I explain. "What my mother didn't have a chance to teach me, I learned myself in the wood as I went out to collect supplies for Grandma and me. Even though I couldn't sense all the spirits—or there were no other spirits in my world to sense—I was still connected to their remnants. To the world itself."

"It wasn't magical or spirit related…but my father also taught me about how I could thrive in the forest," Evander says so softly I almost miss the words. His hands still, but I don't encourage him to continue weaving. I give him the moment and the space by focusing on my own hands and my own branches. I'm surprised when he continues, "We would go out, sometimes for a week at a time, into the woods. He never seemed like he wanted to go—he'd exhaust himself telling me how dangerous it was. How I had to be so careful. The days leading up to our trips, he would spend hours planning and fretting. Scouting ahead. But…"

Evander sighs softly and drops his hands to his sides. He tilts his head upward and stares at the darkening sky, as if offering his cheeks for the first rays of moonlight to land upon. I slow my own movements, straightening as well, my focus narrowing to him.

He truly is the sort of handsome that can lead one to believe in the gods, because, surely, a man like him had divine intervention in his crafting. Ignorantly and effortlessly, Evander wields the kind of allure that whispers dark temptations, impossible to resist even when you know there's danger lurking beneath. And yet, for all his beauty, he is equally tortured. A veil of heartache shrouds him, clinging to him like a second skin. A constant companion that I wish I couldn't recognize.

"All that stress leading up to our departure, and, yet, when we were in the forest…Father moved like he was home. All those worries, those fears, melted away. They collapsed into long hours of trekking down hidden paths that felt like nature made solely for us. He could walk and walk for hours, as if he was trying to get back to somewhere…" Evander hangs his head, shaking it, rubbing his eyes. "Somewhere that no longer existed."

"Because of Conri?" I dare to ask.

Evander's eyes meet mine and he nods. "Conri took everything from my pack, whittling us down until it was, well, only me."

"We will get our vengeance," I swear.

"I know." He shifts closer to me. "And I thank you with every breath for it."

I nod and return to working on the shelter. Light is fading. But, more than that, there's an irresistible draw to Evander in this moment. The pull is so strong that if I were to move for him now, I might stumble and fall into his arms and never be able to escape him again.

I will be there as long as you want me.

His words from earlier resonate in me. I slowly bring my eyes back to him to find him waiting, staring. As if he knew my attention would return if he merely waited.

Would it be so bad if I fell for him? Not just for the necessity of fighting off Conri's charms, or for the bodily pleasures we can give each other, but for the man himself? I try to shift the way I look at him and find it easy to consider him as a prospective partner. Perhaps it's been shifting for a few days now.

"What is it?" He chuckles. "You're looking at me like I've changed my shape into something other than a wolf." Evander steps forward and reaches out to cup my cheek.

I hadn't realized I'd actually tilted my head to look at him differently until his palm meets my skin. I'm grateful for the night to hide the dusting of blush that coats my cheeks. Though I wonder if he can feel the warmth. It almost makes me blush more.

His lips part slightly. Evander takes a small step forward, hand landing on my hip—feather light, as if, somehow, now of all times, he's afraid to touch me. His palm quivers slightly. It seems as if every time we step apart, we come back together, faster than the last. My heart hammers. The way he's looking at me now…like I am everything…

"Faelyn, there's so much I need to tell you. So much you should know," he whispers huskily.

"We'll have time for you to tell me as you're ready." I raise a hand to cover his, holding it against my warm cheek. "You're coming with me, remember?"

"As long as you want me there," he reiterates.

"There isn't any world I could imagine where I wouldn't."

"When you learn all of who I am, what I've done…"

"Things you had to," I insist to him. "To survive Conri and this harsh world you were born into."

"If only that were the extent of it." He sighs and releases me, going to move away.

I don't let him. Both hands on his face, I keep him in place, and kiss him firmly. Pulling away just enough to form words, I whisper, "Stop being so afraid."

"But—"

"You've spent so much of your life afraid. Sacrificing joy. Chasing one fleeting happiness after the last. You don't have to be afraid with me. I'm not leaving."

He groans and claims my mouth, arms tight around my waist. Evander leans forward, as if he wants to devour me whole. I lean back, but only slightly, struggling to match his sudden fervor though desperately wanting to.

Moving hands. Shifting gasps. Tugs on the hems of clothing and the chill air of night against his bare skin that prickles it to gooseflesh under my hands. Never have I wanted to help someone relax more. I want him to take me. To use me for his relief this once. The joy I would find in seeing his unburdened smile and knowing I am the cause…

Evander reaches forward, grabbing my rear and pulling me up. I move on instinct, knowing what he wants. My legs lock around his waist and my back presses into a tree.

His one hand is in my hair. The other caresses down my side, grabbing my breast on the way before gripping my hip. His thumb makes circles, closer and closer, until it hits my most sensitive spot. I moan into his mouth, suck on his tongue, and grind my hips against his.

"Woman." The word is somewhere between a gasp and a growl as he frees his lips from mine, burying his face in the crook of my neck. His teeth sink into my skin, thumb moving relentlessly, working me to a fervor. "You make me mindless. You make me hasty and hot. You make me want like I have never wanted before—like I never thought I would ever want again." He almost sounds angered by it.

"It's all right to want me," I whisper reassuringly. "Because, Evander, I want you, too."

"Damn these trousers," he growls, hand fumbling at the fastenings at my waist.

I laugh. "You should have taken them off first."

"I will rip them off with my teeth if I must." Evander steps back and loosens his grip enough that my legs unravel from around his waist and I stand on my own once more.

"I would like to see that."

He slides down my body, determined eyes locked with mine, hands on my sides and returning to my rear as he kneels before me. Evander takes the fastenings between his teeth with purpose. Immediately, my mind is filled with all manner of lewd imaginings of him with his face between my thighs. His tongue as relentless down there as I know it to be in my mouth. My hands holding his head in place until I am screaming and he surfaces with that smug grin that delights me so.

Evander pulls on the string between his teeth, slowly pulling the loop through the knot. He releases it and I feel my trousers loosen. At the same time, another sensation ripples through me.

"It's back," I gasp. Every muscle tenses. I don't move, for fear I'll lose the feeling again.

"What—" Evander doesn't have a chance to finish his question.

I'm off, running through the dark woods, trying to hastily tie up my trousers on the way. I can hear him behind me, pulling on his own pants, stumbling with a curse. He falls heavy into a tree. Another curse.

But I can't afford to pay him any mind. My focus remains on the whispers of spirit magic that are tickling my arms, like raindrops rolling down my skin. I sprint through the woods. A wolf is soon at my side, Evander no doubt gave up on attempting to get his pants properly on.

At once, the sensation changes. I stop. Sway. The magic hits me with force again, this time from a different direction. Then nothing. Then another pulse. Like a call and response. An echo? Or…

"Evander, use your nose, take us to the nearest stream or river," I command. I can't get a sense of where this spirit is, but I think I know what it is. And if I'm right, then this whole excursion will be worth it for this spirit alone.

He dips his muzzle and bolts through the trees.

I nearly trip over myself, multiple times, trying to keep up. The first time he hears my clamor of almost falling, Evander pauses, looking back. After that, he sets a slower but aggressive pace. He must've heard the desperation in my voice or seen the haste in my eyes because he doesn't slow too much.

Without warning, we break free of the trees and nearly fall into a small river. The moonlight beaming through the rippling current illuminates the smooth stones of the bed, making them shine like diamonds.

Here .

The sense of power nearly physically pushes me back, keeping me from falling in the water. Better for it, as I wouldn't want to enter a spirit's domain unbidden. I shift my stance, collecting myself, and stare in awe of this raw essence.

Right before my eyes, the current shifts. The water flows backward.

"Don't go," I say quickly.

The current slows, but does not stop.

"I am not your enemy." I take a step forward and Evander hangs back. He remains on the grass near the trees as I approach on the rocky bank. Slowly, I kneel, staring into the deepest part of the water. What I first thought were the inky outlines of two fishes seem to shift to look at me. Not unlike Folost's eyes. "If you are willing, I would like to speak with you."

I bow forward, stretching out my fingers and doubling over my knees. I bring my forehead to the backs of my hands in the deepest kneel possible. When I speak next, it is without moving from this position. The only way I know that the spirit is still present is by the sense of it.

"I am but a humble witch. I come with an open heart. But I do seek you out for my own gain."

Honesty is the heart of magic , Grandma would say. No true power is gained by hiding or smothering truth .

"There is a wicked king. I know he holds one of your primordial cousins captive." Aurora. "And I fear another might be twisted by his sway." The ancient wolf spirit in the old wood. If the wolf kings somehow managed to keep Aurora captive, who's to say that they aren't doing the same with the wolf spirit? "I am working to free any spirits he keeps unjustly, and end his reign in turn. But I cannot do this alone. So I seek your name and your bond. I seek your help when I call upon you—and your trust to know I will not do so without great care and consideration."

When I am done speaking, there is no movement. The river is nearly perfectly still. Then it begins moving again. I lift my head.

The water is normal. I've failed.

My ribs collapse in. I suck in air but can't seem to get a good breath. There's so much I never learned about meeting spirits. About dealing with them. Grandma never had a chance to teach me—there weren't enough in our world. I'm treating these ancient beings like I would the old wood. No wonder they care little to deal with me.

Sitting up, I lean back onto my heels and sigh heavily.

"I'm sorry." I can't bring myself to turn back to Evander. My failure will not only risk us both, but also Aurora. Our whole plan… "I wasn't enough."

"You are but a small witch," another soft voice says, as whispering as water against rock. Evander's eyes go wide and I follow his stare over my shoulder, back to the water and the source of the voice. "But you are more than enough."

Tiny bubbles float from between the rocks of the riverbed, foaming on the surface and rising to form a mound of water. The spirit emerges as the loose shape of the torso of a man. It's constantly shifting and changing as the water rises and falls, foam creating a strange sort of outline in the moonlight.

"Hello, spirit." I halfway bow. I should go deeper but I don't seem to be quite in control of my body. It refuses to move. I'm stuck between shock and awe of what's before me.

"Hello, Faelyn." When he speaks, water falls away from the face of the visage. It's the sound of it hitting against the surface of the river combining with the babbling current that forms cohesive words.

"You know my name?" I blink.

"Gruvun told me." Spirit of the tides. I recognize the name from when I first arrived in Midscape.

"Is Gruvun well?" I haven't seen him since the ferry ride after crossing the Fade.

"He is. Ever moving. Ever changing. He is the busy one, and I am more the still. Constant." The spirit speaks with forced, almost stilted words. Each seems difficult to make and I worry that I am unnecessarily taxing him with this conversation.

"You are the spirit of water," I whisper. As soon as I say it a feeling of rightness floods through me.

The water collapses, the spirit falling with a splash. I worry somehow I've harmed him with the outright identification, until he takes his shape once more before me.

"Yes, witch, I am Volst, the spirit of water eternal." Those two shadowy eyes bore into me. Yet, I do not feel afraid. Something about this spirit is just as familiar as Brundil. Without being aware, I've known him all my life. "You may call upon me in your cause."

With a final splash he returns to the river. The magic darts away like fish, carried on the current. I imagine him and Gruvun dancing endlessly across the world, carving mountains, circling islands, exploring the far corners of the earth.

"What did he say?" Evander asks, reminding me of his presence, and that he can't understand the spirits—save for Aurora, given her human form. Even though he has some affinity for the spirits thanks to the witch he once knew.

"His name is Volst. And he'll help us," I announce, standing. My trousers are soaked up to the knee. I didn't realize, but the water must have risen when Volst drew near. I turn to face Evander and halt. His expression has me stopping in my tracks.

Evander leans against a tree. A slight smile curls the corners of his lips. He looks at me with pride and admiration.

"I hope you know, I never doubted you for an instant."

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