24. Rowan

Chapter 24

Rowan

I walk through the woods toward the sound of whimpers. It’s night and I’m barefoot. I don’t know why I left my bed in answer to a phantom pull, but I always do. The pull is familiar. It has always been familiar, even that first time. But now I know how this ends, and I shout to myself to stop. To go back. To run home. But my feet won't listen and the dream me hurries toward the woods, just like when it was real.

Sometimes, I see the scene through my own eyes, other times I’m an observer, watching from above as my sixteen year old self walks naively to the forest’s edge, and then beyond. This night’s dream is one of the former.

I’m near Mystwood, the forest separating the human lands from Lunos, the fae’s immortal realm. This outpost is my mother’s latest duty station. She’s busy, doing her best to keep Eryndor safe. Don’t go into the woods is an iron clad rule around here. But I’m going to break it tonight, just like I did then. I can’t change the dream no matter how many times I’ve tried.

I step into Mystwood. There is a full moon overhead, illuminating some of the path .

I find him where I always do. Golden eyes that sparkle in the moonlight, the scent of blood that matts his fur.

Run, the adult me shouts to my younger self. But, like always, the me in the dream doesn't answer. Why should she? There had been no one to shout back then. There had just been an irresistible pull.

I crouch beside the wolf. It's large and injured. My magic rallies the few slivers of healing magic that run in my veins. My brain shouts warning after warning at me. Even back then I knew that Mystwood was dangerous, that the wolf might be fae. But I don't listen. Not now, not back then. All I see is a wolf, hurt and scared, his fur matted with blood and little whimpers escaping his throat. I can't stand by and do nothing.

"Hey, boy," I say soothingly. I know he is male. "I'm here to help, alright? Can you let me help?"

I advance the last few steps toward him slowly, careful not to startle him. Magic tingles at my fingertips. Maybe if I can take the edge off his pain, he will let me?—

The pitiful little whimpers morph suddenly into a growl so powerful that it fills the whole forest with menace. I freeze with terror. The wolf lunges, its open maw filled with sharp teeth and glistening with dripping saliva. I’m frozen with terror. Bloody, strong paws crash into my chest and sharp teeth maul my face. I fall. Pain explodes along my chin and cheek. Pain and blood and terror. I scramble up and turn and run, run, run -

"Rowan," Kyrian's urgent voice cuts through the nightmare, yanking me back to reality. My eyes fly open and I gasp for breath, heart pounding wildly in my chest. The dark shadows of the forest dissolve, replaced by the longer ones of the stone walls that form our refuge. The small fire crackles close by, merrily unaware of the terror still coursing through me. “You are alright,” Kyrian promises, drawing me against him. “I’ve got ye. I’ve got ye.”

I bury my face against his bare chest, breathing in his comforting, crisp mountain scent. The heat of his skin and steady thrum of his heartbeat gradually slow my own racing pulse .

Pulling up my head, I look toward the forest, which can be seen on the far side of our shelter, where a chunk of the wall is missing.

A pair of glowing golden eyes blink at me.

I gasp, digging my nails into Kyrian’s muscle. “Here,” I croak in rising panic. “It’s here.”

Faster than I can follow, Kyrian is on his feet, naked and weapon in hand. Keeping his body between me and the exit he moves forward on silent feet. My breath halts as he steps outside, and doesn’t restart until he’s back a few moments later, his body relaxed.

“There’s no one there,” he says with no hint of reproach. Tossing his sword aside, he returns to our bedroll and sits beside me, carefully tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Do you want to tell me what you thought you saw?”

“A wolf. And I didn’t think I saw it, I…” I look back out toward where I know those golden eyes had blinked at me from the morning mist, but nothing is there. “It’s gone now.”

“Alright,” Kyrian agrees without argument. “It probably left when it realized we weren’t small prey. It’s not going to come inside at any rate. I promise I won’t let it.”

He sounds so sure of himself that it’s hard not to believe him, even though I’d have sounded just as certain that I’d never go into Mystwood barefoot in the middle of the night.

“Do you want to tell me?” Kyrian asks. “About the nightmare?”

“No.” I wait for him to press, but he doesn’t. As if he knows that if I start talking about it, I’ll break into a million pieces. I don’t understand how someone as powerful as Kyrian can be so careful. Why he’d even want to bother. I put my hand on his bare chest, the firelight sculpting the roped muscles of his stomach with warm flickering shadows. “I’m sorry.”

“I think I’ve faced worse trials than taking a peek outside,” Kyrian says with a small laugh.

“I’m sorry for being such a mess, I mean. I know that if not for me, you could have had this whole assignment done in half the time. Instead you are stuck?—”

“Stop.” Kyrian puts a finger to my lips, halting my rambling apology. “Aye, I could do this faster alone—but what exactly would be the point then? It would be like fighting for the sake of fighting. Protecting ye, chaos, isn’t some extra chore, it's my whole reason for being here. Don’t you see? You’re an honor, not a burden.”

“I don’t think Logan would agree with you,” I point out. “Or are we still pretending he took off because he thought scouting ahead was the responsible choice?”

“I lack the imagination to envision Logan making responsible choices. What I’m quite certain of though, is that his departure had everything to do with his own demons and not yours.”

“And that’s why Kai ran off after kissing me in the workshop too?”

Kyrian winces. “My friends are arseholes.”

“And you?” I whisper.

“Am I an arsehole?”

“Are you going to run off? Because if you are, please just tell me. I can’t go to sleep wondering if you are going to be here when I wake up in the morning… Or… or whether each time you touch me might be the last because you’ll get some epiphany and decide that there are better honors or causes out there and -”

Kyrian's large hands cup my face, his calloused thumbs stroking my cheekbones with exquisite tenderness as his azure eyes bore into mine. “Look at me, lass,” he orders softly, his song-like accent thicker than usual. “I'm right here with ye. I’m not going anywhere, not unless ye tell me to leave ye the hell alone. Maybe not even then. But I know asking ye to trust me on that isn’t something I’ve earned, so I’m not going to do that. I’ll just prove it to ye. As many times as it takes.”

One of his hands slips around to cup the back of my head, and he dips down capturing my lips with his own in a slow, tender kiss that steals the protests still lingering on my tongue.

“You… are… changing the subject,” I gasp out with the small breath I can steal.

“Aye.” Kyrian deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips, asking for entrance. I grant it, parting for him, and he delves inside, stroking and caressing as if the whole world has narrowed to nothing but this one connection. “In my defense, I don’t believe words will do much good just now,” he whispers against me.

A small moan escapes me and I press closer, tangling my fingers in his tousled hair. “Cheater.”

“Hmm.” He makes a noise with the back of his throat, and delves right back in as my body melts against his.

When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, he rests his forehead against mine, his eyes still closed and his breath mingling with my own. I slide my hand down to where I feel his need, hard and pulsing against me, but Kyrian captures my wrist with a gentle hold. “No,” he whispers. “No more games. The next time I’m inside you, I want it to be because you want me there. All of me, not just my cock. When you trust me enough to want me.”

Before I can protest, he tucks me against his broad chest and nestles us back under the covers. I can feel every hard plane and ridge of his warrior's body against my soft curves, his warmth and scent enveloping me like a cocoon as I drift back to sleep.

In the morning, the weather is infuriatingly calm, as if trying to convince us that last night's storm never happened. Kyrian walks out of the shelter only to return minutes later with a pair of rabbits.

My stomach rumbles, but I narrow my gaze at the warrior. “That was absurdly fast.”

“That’s because they were there already,” he says wearily. I can hear the unspoken message—our breakfast is Logan’s doing—but don’t press when Kyrian offers no explanation. While Kyrian cooks the meat, I dig out the powders I’d forgotten to take last night, and quickly mix my medicine.

“It helps keep my dizzy spells down,” I explain to Kyrian when he raises a questioning brow, and gladly chase the bitter brew with a slice of fatty meat that he offers, taking it into my mouth right from his finger.

“You need to eat more,” Kyrian says, holding out a whole rabbit leg. He watches to ensure I eat the whole thing, then hands me another before taking a piece for himself. I try to argue but he shakes his head at me.

“Of all battles, is this really the one you want to pick?” He asks.

“When you put it that way -”

“Good. Then eat.”

Dry, rested and fed we make good time toward the second waypoint, which requires climbing a path not even mountain goats would find amusing. The only reason I make it to dinnertime without a broken neck is because Kyrian ties me to him with a length of rope and proves able to anchor himself to sheer stone whenever I slip and dangle over one abyss or another.

“Not much farther now,” Kyrian says, pulling me onto a narrow ledge before studying the next section of the climb. We are so high, that wispy clouds that usually drift lazily overhead, are not that much overhead anymore. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to reach out and touch one sometime soon. “The first two waypoints are gimmies. We’ll have to work for the third one though.”

I stare at the back of his head wondering if he even hears himself. I’ve brushed death more times in the last two days than I have in the last two decades. And this is the easy part?

I suppose I should be grateful for Eryndor’s geography, since without it the draken would have destroyed us long ago. Between our high altitude forcing the beasts to stay in the lower, thicker air, and the perilous up and downdrafts created by the ancient forests and cliffs, we are utterly hostile to the flying creatures. And not much more hospitable to the two legged walking ones who ride them.

“Did you have any say in our waypoint assignments?” I ask Kyrian.

“Aye.” He offers me his canteen, his attention still on the mountain. Crags and crevices scar the cliff we are scaling and promise bone-shattering ends to anyone who dares disrespect them.

I make the error of looking down and instantly regret it. The sheer drop seems to pull at me, making my head spin. I press myself back against the solid stone behind me, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“You had a choice of which waypoints our squad was assigned, and the ones we now have the personal pleasure of visiting?” I clarify, trying hard to keep the tremble out of my voice and focus on the conversation.

“Aye. One of the few privileges of being in charge.”

“Then for the love of gods, did you purposely pick the ones most likely to kill us, or is this a happy coincidence?”

Kyrian turns back toward me, genuine confusion on his too beautiful face. “Of course I picked these perils on purpose,” he says as if the answer is obvious. “I do know how to read a map. Why would you think otherwise?”

“Because for a moment there I thought you were sane,” I press the back of my head against the stone rising at my back. “My mistake.”

Kyrian tisks and checks the makeshift harness he’s made for me from the rope. “I chose to pit us against nature to minimize the chances of pitting us against enraged civilians. Unless you were looking forward to killing the very people you were running a secret clinic to help?”

Oh.

I’m still mulling over Kyrian’s foresight when we crest a final ridge and emerge onto a small plateau nestled amongst the craggy peaks. And there, perched on a boulder at the far edge of the summit is the damn metal box we’ve just risked our lives to reach. I hope the thing appreciates our effort.

The rope between us pulls taut as Kyrian strides forward, his long legs eating up the distance while I stumble after him shakily, my muscles burning from the grueling climb.

“Can you wait -” my words die in my throat as I finally raise my head high enough to take in what Kyrian has already marked. It’s not just the box that’s waiting for us here, it’s also Logan and Kai.

And they look anything but at ease.