Chapter 33

33

LECTURE NOTES FROM REALM RULES even the horse seemed impressed. Thessa made a couple clicking sounds, and they were off.

When she caught up to Soren, he whipped his head back. “Change of heart?” The smirk on his face was as wicked as his magic. “Camp’s a mile out, follow me.”

He’d not given her a chance to respond, only kicked Ares onward.

Camp?

The camp Soren led Thessa to was not a-few-pitched-tents type of camp site. It was an entire village. With their horses tied next to dozens of others, Thessa staggered behind Soren. She wasn’t sure why she continually followed him into dark places, however he’d promised her a safe place to rest when they left Mabelton, and that was all she wanted.

With a few hours before dawn, the entire campsite seemed to be in the midst of their evening slumber. A crackling fire in the distance drew her attention, or was it the three males who stood before it, battle ready with their daggers poised?

Thessa froze. “Where’ve you taken us?”

Soren paced past her, shouting, “Stand down.”

He was loud enough to wake the entire encampment. Without hesitation, the three men sheathed their blades. Two sat back down and the third approached .

Soren glanced over his shoulder at her. “Are you coming?”

Tiptoeing over, she asked, “You know these males?”

“We keep three on watch overnight, rotating. This campsite rotates too, the morning after every Blood Moon.”

She scanned the tented village, “How long have they lived like this?”

“Some … a very long time.”

“Sir, you’re back.”

Sir?

A pale, burly male, with a beard that reminded her of Professor Shovak’s, greeted them.

“Reginald, it’s good to see you. Will you escort us to an unoccupied tent?”

Reginald eyed Soren, then Thessa, and smirked. “ Very well then .”

Thessa stomped on Soren’s boot.

Soren cleared his throat. “This is Thessa, she’ll be needing a place to rest, is all .”

“Ah, indeed.” After a small nod, Reginald guided them through an alleyway made of canvas and cloth. A symphony of buzzing creatures hummed in her ears as she passed tent after tent.The ropes strung across them gave the illusion of a giant spider web, and Thessa was strolling into the heart of it.

Minutes passed before Reginald said, “Here’s the one.” He held a flap open, gesturing them inside.

Thessa went in first.

It was a simple set up. A stack of blankets lay in one corner and an ewer and basin in the other. The roof of the tent was untied, allowing moonlight to stream in.

Reginald added, “I’ll have a proper tent prepared at first light, of course.”

Soren stepped inside next. “Thank you.”

“And I’m very sorry to hear about what happened, sir. Your father’s in Stenmeier’s tent—twenty tents south. I’ll let him know you’ve arrived.”

Soren swallowed as if he’d been the one force-fed bark and nodded. “Tell him I’ll meet with him in the morning.”

His father is alive.

Reginald tied the tent flaps. “Of course. Sleep well, General Whitfield.”

Thessa’s eyes popped. “What did he just call you?”

Soren exhaled, facing her. “It’s only a title.”

“You mean to tell me you left out the part about you commanding this army of shadow-wielders?”

“It’s not only shadow-wielders who fight, and this is more than an army. This rebellion protects the ones who’ve lost everything because of the blood in our veins. Families live here.”

“You could’ve told me.”

“It’s not a title I wear on my sleeve, nor a position I wish to hold, but one out of necessity. The experiments were part of my father’s master plan.”

“Master plan?”

He paused, rubbing his temples. “This all began without a leader, so he created one.”

Thessa shook her head, sitting down. She supposed she was an experiment in her own right; one crafted by an overzealous goddess. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not looking for your sympathy.”

“But your father’s here Soren. He’s alive. That must mean your mother …”

His stare went cold.

“Surely if your father made it out, he’d?—”

Sighing, Soren took a seat across from her. “Remember when you fainted?”

Slightly embarrassed by the memory, she said, “Yeah. ”

“Well, my father left. He came here to review the grimoire with our council. When you and I took the horses out, my mother was still at the house … alone.” He blinked, and silver lined his black eyes. “I knew they killed her.”

It explained the terror he’d unleashed. Thessa’s heart sank. “This is all my fault. If I’d not taken you away.”

Soren exhaled. “Let it be your fight, but it’ll never be your fault.”

She groaned and began to unlace her boots. “I’m sorry, nonetheless.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry too.”

After a moment of quiet, she leaned over to pour herself a cup of water. “Do you always keep unoccupied tents stocked with blankets and ewers?”

“At every campsite.”

“Why?” she asked, taking a sip.

“For those like the McPorters, and those like you . This is our ritual—to make space for others, even those who aren't like us. As long as they accept us, we accept their allegiance. My tent will be ready in the morning, after tonight consider this one yours. That is … if you decide to stay.”

“Mine?” The offer may have sounded simple to him, but to her, it meant everything.

He nodded and stood, turning around to unbutton his tunic. When it fell, her traitorous eyes took inventory of every strip of muscle lining his spine.

Reining in her focus, she said, “Thank you for the place to rest.”

He looked over his shoulder. “To rest or stay ?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not joining your army, General Whitfield .”

He spun around to face her. “I’m not asking you to join us. ”

“Then what are you asking?” She took a big sip, officially confused.

“I’m asking you to lead them.”

Thessa's mouth burst, spitting her water across the tent.

“ Thank you , for the shower,” he said, wiping his chest dry.

With the moonlight streaming in, her eyes couldn’t miss the ripples of his abdomen, gleaming with water droplets. Or, how realistic the scales of his tattoo were.

She stood, regaining her focus. “I’m no soldier, nor a leader.”

He angled his head. “I’d beg to differ.”

“Do me a colossal favor and beg not. What makes you think your rebellion can outmatch the Elemental Army anyway? Elemental populations have always surpassed the other branches of magic. They’re the superior line of magic.”

“And why do you think that is?” he asked the question like she was back in secondary school.

“I understand there’s a fetish for fire. Inbred or not, they’re powerful.”

His dark brow rose. “And what are you, Thessa?”

“Weak.” The pain in her hips and legs returning was an unpleasant reminder of just how frail she was.

He stepped closer to her. “This is where we disagree. You’re unequivocally powerful, you don’t complain despite what you carry, and you’re the most brutal, beautiful thing I’ve ever met.”

Thessa prayed he couldn’t see the heat flushing her cheeks. “Now it’s my turn to beg to differ.”

He leaned down, and the pinpoints of his eyes sucked her in. Her instincts told her to look away, that he was a predator, but she couldn’t.

“What are you doing?” she whispered .

He lifted the underside of her chin, beckoning her lips closer. “Kiss me, Thessa.”

She swallowed, holding his stare. “After you strung your beasts around my neck?”

Soren pulled back, ran fingers through his wind-blown hair, then poured himself some water. “You’re right.”

I know.

She thought about how he’d just lost his mother, and how he mustn’t be thinking straight.

Lead his army? Kiss him?

Thessa snatched one of the blankets and moved to the opposite corner of the tent. “Let’s just get some rest.”

Wrapping herself as tight as a caterpillar in a cocoon, she went to sleep—tried to.