Chapter 33

CHAPTER 33

Bardulf slows his pace. It's still well before dawn and we have only just crested the slope that leads up to the Lykin Plains. The forest shadows the valley beneath us. There's no sign of Evander at all. Bardulf sinks to the ground and I dismount.

"Is everything all right?" I ask when he changes back into his human form.

Bardulf places his hands on his lower back and tilts left to right, forward and back. "I'm still aching from our tussle, and you're not exactly light."

I bristle at the way he frames the remark. While I appreciate my full hips and plump rear and am not about to let him change that, it's clear he intended for the sentiment to offend.

"Perhaps you should become stronger, then." I fold my arms and look over the plains. "How long until you're ready to run again?"

"You are relentless," he grumbles, glowering at me. "You should be thanking me for freeing you from Evander. Bowing down to kiss my boots."

"That's not happening," I say flatly. I bring my attention back to him with a pointed glare. "Don't mistake my being here for any kind of fondness for you. I still find you brutish and utterly intolerable. You are only a means to get back to Conri faster." I add in the last bit, emphasizing that I am still under Conri's protection. Evander is right, I'm not safe with Bardulf, and I know it.

"I am surprised you'd want to get back to Conri. You didn't look like you felt any haste to return to him when you were straddling Evander, moaning his name." Bardulf pulls no punches. I purse my lips and feel a scarlet flush rising with anger and embarrassment. He doesn't miss it. "Yes, Faelyn, don't forget before you open that smart mouth of yours that I still hold power over you. You're either the poor victim of Evander's treachery, or a treasonous wench. It's up to you what you want me to tell Conri when we return."

I glare up at him, keeping my mouth shut until I can trust myself not to snap. When I do speak, my words are soft. "Perhaps you should focus more on regaining your strength than running your mouth. I don't think you'll enjoy finding out who Conri listens to between the two of us."

Bardulf snorts and sits where he stands, situating himself back on the grass. "First smart thing you've said. Take your own advice, bitch."

I bristle, but don't rise to the insult, instead keeping my focus. "In an hour we begin again?"

"Den is still too far." He yawns. "We'll sleep, then carry on after sunrise."

"It's not that far."

"We'll go in a few hours," he reiterates with force.

"Fine." I take a few large steps away from him and lie back as well. I keep my back toward Bardulf and rest my head on my arm. I stare at nothing, waiting for sleep to come to me. But it doesn't.

Instead, I pass the time thinking about what I'm going to do first when I reach Den. Aurora is my only priority now. Will we immediately leave? There could be an element of surprise to quickly running off. Conri wouldn't be expecting it in the slightest, and the longer we stay, the more suspicious he might become. Moreover, it sounded like Evander would have some kind of trial immediately on return. We could leverage the chaos…

The mere thought has my insides squirming. It's so heartless. Could I really leave him behind like a sacrificial lamb? He was heartless first , I remind myself. But when I do, his wounded expression returns to me. The pain in his eyes.

Was he really using me?

I bite back a sigh. The urge to get up and walk back to the woods nearly overwhelms me. I press my eyes closed, as though I could somehow get rid of the urge by shutting out the world.

But in the darkness behind my lids, a new urge creeps into my mind. It sneaks in like an ant, crawling over the edge of a picnic basket, scouting, inviting friends. A shiver rips through me, dragging stillness over my shoulders in its wake. I am as heavy as a cloud over the moon. My consciousness is as clear as twilight.

It felt good, giving in to him…it truly did. It had been so long. It could feel good giving in again… My breath hitches, catching in my throat. I can almost feel his fingers running down my shoulder and arm. Feel his breath on the back of my neck.

Give in…

The voice in my mind is no longer my own. My brow furrows. Something's wrong.

Relax. You want this.

No. I don't. I force my eyes open and the world comes crashing back around me. With it comes the awareness of a presence at my back. I sit quickly, spinning.

Bardulf looms.

"What do you want?" I snap, rubbing my arms. It helps shake the slimy feeling that's crept into me like a chill of winter. It's then that I become aware that my cape has slid off my shoulders. Or perhaps…the feeling of fingers on my arm. Did he remove it? I keep my eyes on Bardulf, looking at him with a fresh awareness of just how menacing he is, as I purposefully slip my cloak back into place.

"You looked like you were having a nightmare." He crouches down. "I was worried."

No you weren't. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You look pale." He reaches out a hand to touch my face and the feeling is back with a force so violent that it nearly knocks the wind from me. I lean away and Bardulf's face twists from a mask of worry into a far more sincere scowl.

"I said, I'm fine . Go back to where you were sleeping and leave me alone," I snap, hoping there's no room for misinterpretation.

"I said, I'm worried about you." He speaks slowly, as if I somehow had misunderstood him. "Let me comfort you."

The sensation is back. It batters against me, pressing on my shoulders as if it's trying to break my bones and sink into my marrow as entry. The swiftness of the assault almost makes it to my head. Almost has me relaxing as he reaches for me again.

Almost . I push off with my heels, propelling myself backward on the ground. His face twists back to that of hatred.

"How are you…"

"Touch me and I will hurt you," I threaten.

"Come now." He chuckles. Bardulf's demeanor changes again as effortlessly as a pendulum swing. He shifts his weight with a coy smirk. He has the air of a man trying and failing at seduction. The sight of it makes me sick. "Let's not play coy. I watched you with Evander, I know what sexual creature you are. I can fill you better than he can."

"Say another word and I'll vomit all over you." I add a gag for good measure. The mask falls from his face once more. The only consistent emotion in Bardulf right now is the hunger in his eyes. "There is no world in which I would ever, ever want you."

"But you already do want me." He speaks the words like one would a chant—a spell. Another battery of magic. It becomes perfectly clear what he's doing.

I draw my cape tighter around me and fight off the assault of his magic. He's trying to leverage the charm with all the finesse of a butcher using an axe. These are the edges of Conri's powers that he spoke of? This is the charm that the knights possess? Did Evander have some kind of greater mastery, or did he speak true and he never used it to lure me into his arms? There's no way I could've missed this.

"I will not repeat myself again." I stand tall. "I do not want you. I have never wanted you. I will never want you. Now get out of my sight."

"It's that cloak." He stands as well. "That's how you're resisting."

"Don't come near me." I hold out a hand, as if that alone will stop him. Of course, it doesn't, and he takes a step closer.

"Oh, now I have all the information, don't I?" He chuckles and takes another step. I take two steps back. "I'll tell Conri of your magic cloak and of you falling onto Evander's prick."

"I said, don't come closer." If he doesn't stop, I'm going to have to make good on my threats. My heart begins to race again. What was I thinking coming out here with Bardulf alone? I clearly wasn't thinking. I was just hurt and foolish and now I'm going to have to defend myself.

"I'll out you for what you are to the wolf king unless you give me some satisfaction, too." He smirks. It's so clear that he fully expects me to give in. The bastard.

"Never."

"Old gods! You would rut with Evander but not me? That pathetic, mewling sycophant?" Bardulf's hands ball into fists. "Let me guess, you think he's on your side because he lived in your world."

What? I don't have a chance to ask the question. Nor would I trust the answer. Bardulf starts walking faster. I can't put enough distance between us.

"Now I'm going to show you how a real man takes a woman."

"Don't touch me!"

He ignores my threat and reaches out. I stare at the offending hand. He's not going to stop. Bardulf is going to rip off my pin, and my cloak, and then…

I reach into my bag, pull out the piece of the hearth that had been Folost's home for years, hold it before me, and call, "Folost."

The spirit sparks into life, hovering over the small shard of brick. Bardulf stops short, looking at the little spark in confusion. Folost's eyes swing to meet mine as Bardulf roars with laughter.

"You think that pathetic little flame is going to stop me?" Bardulf lifts a hand, about to slap the brick from my palm.

I completely ignore him, focusing only on the spirit before me. He's not mighty or primordial, but I knew he would come no matter what.

"I need you to bring Devlan." I lower my chin and lock eyes with the spirit, making my intention known in a way that only Folost would understand—knowing that I can speak a language with him that Bardulf cannot understand. Even if I could call on one of the greater spirits outright, there would be no time to beg, to explain. I only heard the name once from Aurora—on the beach when we first arrived. I've no bond with this spirit, and I have to rely on Folost speaking for me.

Bardulf's palm slams into mine as he slaps away the brick. Folost tries to cling to the stone. Sparks. And is snuffed by the damp grasses.

"Enough games," Bardulf snarls. "Now give me what I want!"

I don't move. I stand as tall as a mighty redwood. As unyielding as a spirit before its essence. I will not cower before a creature as pathetic as him.

"Devlan," I say as Bardulf lunges for me. My words are calm. Deathly quiet. "Please, I summon you."

A spark from the scrap of brick, discarded in the grass. I feel the presence of Folost. A surge of magic. And then…

Flame.

It is a torrent of fire that billows out like a scream. The cone shoots from Folost's brick shard and consumes Bardulf whole. I stand a mere breath from its wall. The heat is staggering. Yet, no tongues of flame leap to me. They lap around me as I stare into the blinding light where Bardulf once stood.

His cries are cut short. They are accompanied by the stink of burning flesh. Then, nothing but fire and smoke. Devlan burns until his flames are as golden as sunlight. As quickly as he came, he disappears.

Before me is a charred stretch of earth. Blackened to dirt. There are not even bones left of Bardulf. It is as if he never existed at all.

I blink away the blue haze that lingers in my vision from the blinding light, breathing slowly. Turning, I take a few steps, collecting the brick that Bardulf had slapped from my hand, and return it to my pouch. My hand is shaking. Not quivering, or trembling. Shaking.

The cone of burnt earth stretches out from my feet like a tombstone. His final monument. Like an arrow pointing to me that says, She did it .

What was I supposed to do? I want to ask. I had to defend myself. He wasn't exactly a good person. I want to explain everything for my own ears to hear. But all I manage is a croak.

I will not allow myself to feel guilty. Not for that. Not for him. Not after the brutal intentions that he had made so clear.

"I will not feel guilty," I manage to say. Though every word trembles like my steps.

When I try to walk away, I stumble and fall to my knees. I dig my hands into the damp earth, trying to find purchase—something solid and real and stable. Because I am none of those things. I am going to shake apart.

I killed him.

I killed a man. I used my magic. The magic of my ancestors. The magic that Grandma taught me to use to protect and serve. A spirit that is innocent of mortal conflict. I used it to end a life.

"Evander," I rasp. Then, I scream to the heavens, "Evander!"

The tears come unbidden. It is a torrent of emotions unlike any I've known. It is somehow as consuming as the grief that I felt for Grandma, yet worse. What am I becoming? What is this world making me?

It's too much. My arms give out and I go to collapse to the earth. But my face doesn't meet the grass. Instead, I fall into a wall of muscle. Of warmth and comfort. Of familiar smells and reassurance.

"I'm here, Faelyn," Evander whispers into my ear through ragged panting. "As long as you want me, I'm here."