Chapter 33

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

M y pack doesn't argue with me much longer before they capitulate to my wishes.

There's a part of me that thinks they only let the subject go because of how tired I must look. I guess it's hard to argue with someone whose eyes are closing and who can't stop yawning.

I can't remember the last time I slept. If I count the hours since coming to the Underworld, it could be as many as thirty-six, although the passage of time here is very difficult to measure.

Halle ushers Orlan and the hellhound out with a promise to bring food, since hunting in this place seems fraught. Not to mention, wildlife seems scarce. A fact I quickly ascertain with a brief expansion of my senses.

She promises that Orlan will come back, since he will have to transport me to Mount Greylock, but it seems my pack doesn't quite trust her because the three dark elf brothers casually declare that they're going with Halle and Orlan "to help with the food."

The fire is warm and the rug beside the keeper is soft. I barely keep my eyes open while Anarchy relocates herself to sit next to Lucian on the other side of the fire, and Jonah announces that he'll find water.

An hour later, I've eaten, hydrated with as much water as I could drink, and settled down on the fur with my pack standing guard.

Five hours after that, I wake to a quiet I wasn't expecting, finding myself alone inside the longhouse.

I'm tucked in next to the keeper, a fur around both of us.

With a start, I listen for his breathing, my hand darting out beneath the fur to press against his chest.

I exhale my relief when I register his steady breathing.

Thank the dark saints.

The gash above his eye looks like it might be healing. The cut on his cheek has faded. But when I check his chest, the wounds there are still disappointingly deep, even if the blood has stopped flowing.

I make out Anarchy's quiet voice outside the longhouse, along with Lucian's and Jonah's. They're talking about a time long past. Or, rather, Anarchy and Jonah are. Lucian seems to be mostly listening.

I don't want to leave the keeper, but I force myself to rise, reaching under my coat—which I somehow slept in—to tear a strip off the hem of the gauzy dress.

I will need to protect my eyes if it's daytime on Mount Greylock. It will also help with the brightness of the snow immediately outside the longhouse.

Pausing at the door, I consider the wall of weapons that sits on the left of it.

There are blades of all kinds, each one appearing sharp and well-maintained, along with multiple bows and several quivers of arrows.

But above them all is a war hammer with a block-shaped head carved with runes.

My eyes widen at the sight of it.

Its wooden handle is broken in half, badly splintered at the break point but clinging by a single strand of wood in the middle.

I find myself reaching for it, wondering if the metal part carries magic, but even when my fingertips brush it, nothing happens.

It's ordinary metal.

Still, I'm intrigued that it rests in pride of place above the other weapons.

As if there is value in a broken thing.

I can't stop myself from turning back to the keeper. "Who are you?"

Who was he?

He has worn so many faces. It feels like they mean something, but then, some may not. To read into all of them…

I shake myself.

What matters is that I keep him alive, and keeping him alive hinges on the thread between him and me.

I have to heal his heart.

I tug the fur coat more closely around me as I step out into the snowy landscape, finding Anarchy, Lucian, and Jonah watching the wolves play.

The beasts don't flicker out of view as quickly as they did before.

"We've been watching to see whom they run to greet," Anarchy says quietly and without turning toward me, her panther senses no doubt telling her I was awake and coming her way. "But so far, the image doesn't last that long."

"Family," I say. "It has to be. He misses them."

Lucian regards me with his golden eyes. "No longer your enemy, then."

"Oh, he's my enemy." I blow out an exhale. "But enemies can be allies, too."

Lucian nods. "Like gargoyles and shadow panthers."

Anarchy gives him a dark smile. "All it takes is a little bloodshed."

I stifle a laugh that quickly fades when the door opens across the clearing, and Halle bustles back in. She's still sporting her half-dead, half-wise-woman appearance, but she's wearing sensible boots this time.

"Do not endanger yourself," she says to Orlan, who stops inside the door. "Take Veda only as close to the nest as is safe. And keep an eye out for Taiven's followers. If he's had any kind of inkling about my brother's whereabouts, he will have scouts around."

Orlan doesn't appear fazed. "To avoid them, I should take Veda closer to the furies' nest. After all, a safe distance for me is a safe distance for Taiven's followers."

Halle huffs. "Well, it depends which foe you would prefer to face: Taiven's followers or the furies."

"The furies won't tell Taiven where Veda is," Orlan points out. "His followers will."

"Curse your logic," Halle says, and I'm surprised to see that she looks genuinely worried, her hands clasped hard and a growing tension around her eyes.

It occurs to me now that maybe… just maybe… beneath her cold fa?ade and dead exterior, there's the heart of an alpha who cares about her people.

Orlan gives her a smile. "You know I'm a thinker."

"Even thinkers can die," she snaps.

I hurry toward them. "But Orlan has me. I'll keep him safe until he can transport himself out of there." My forehead puckers. "Actually, I don't expect you to stick around, Orlan, so how will I let you know when I need to come back?"

"I can give you a temporary rune," he says. "Best to put it behind your ear, where it can't immediately be seen by your adversaries. Press the rune like a call button, and I'll come back."

I don't know what a ‘call button' is, but the intent is clear enough. I'm not sure how I feel about him placing a rune on me, though.

Halle exhales heavily. "Fine. But go before I change my mind and make you both stay. You're a darn sight safer here than out there."

Orlan steps back toward the open door, his quick steps telling me that Halle really might be in danger of stopping us.

I give Anarchy a quick hug and my brother a nod. Lucian learned to distrust hugs, but my pack is working on that.

Soon enough, I exit the cold landscape and take a last look back at the place the keeper created before the door closes behind me.