22. Aramis

Chapter 22

Aramis

T hree days go by with little change to our surroundings. The lull of conversation fades away as we venture deeper into the forest. The air grows thick with the earthy scent of damp moss and the sweet fragrance of wildflowers. Sunlight filters through the dense canopy, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor. The sound of rustling leaves and chirping birds accompanies our every step, creating a symphony of nature's melodies.

"So, how long have you been in Shadowvale?" Sybil asks Axton, breaking the silence.

"Oh, I come and go," he replies with a shrug. "I've traveled all over Craeweth, wherever odd and end jobs take me, but I always find myself coming back here."

"Were you born here?" She grabs onto the trunk of a tree for support as she steps up a small incline.

"Careful there," he says, placing a hand on her lower back to steady her.

Mine.

Jealousy burns deep inside as I glare at his hand, which lingers a moment longer than necessary on her. Ever since talking about the mating bond with Sybil, my feelings have become more erratic. The highs are incredibly high and the lows are more desolate than ever. I wish we knew more about how the bond works but alas, we have to find out one step at a time. Just as I promised her.

Sybil turns to Axton, a bright smile on her face. "Thank you."

As if sensing the growing tension, she turns her gaze back to me with a concerned expression. Lemon climbs up around her neck and peeks through her curtain of brown hair, his tiny head bobbing with each of her steps as his beady eyes stare at me expectantly.

Sybil turns back to Axton. "What would you say is the most beautiful place you've ever seen?"

"Hmm, now that is a tricky question. I've seen so many beautiful things in the world, but they all pale in comparison–"

"Why don't you elude more on this creature so that we know what we're up against," I say through clenched teeth.

"What can I say? It's a giant fire breathing beast of great proportions," Axton replies. "Thought they'd teach you basic mythical creature anatomy at Prince school. Do you want to know its color?" Axton asks mockingly, and I take a deep breath before I slam his face into the nearest tree trunk.

Marcelene speaks, her white striped feline tail whipping behind her. "Dragons do not give up their treasure lightly, and we cannot take a dragon down with just the six of us."

"Well, maybe your dragon shifter friend can sweet talk it into giving it up. You know, winged shifter to winged creature."Axton nods to Nero, who's been walking with his wings flared out the whole journey in case something attacks us.

"Draken shifters and dragons are very different," Nero says, crossing his arms. "While we possess similar qualities, we are about as similar as a unicorn is to a horse."

"Not to mention the average dragon is the size of a large mountain," Marcelene adds matter-of-factly but the dig at the draken does not go unnoticed.

"Oy, now if yer worried about size–" Nero starts, but Marcelene cuts him a sharp glance.

"We will figure out what to do with the dragon when we get there," Sybil says and continues walking in the direction Axton has been leading us. The woods' ground continues to be irregular; the melting snow has made the earth sodden and mud sucks at every step, threatening to pull our boots from our feet. Progress is slow and arduous.

"You're positive you know where you're going?" I ask Axton as I nearly trip on an exposed root.

"Who forgets their first time visiting a dragon's nest? I know where I'm going," he says, flicking invisible dust off his sleeves.

"It would be useful if you could give us more information than I know where I'm going, " Aries says as he hacks a branch from a tree in our path, sending pine needles scattering to the ground. "How many days will it take to travel? Are there any towns we can trade resources for?"

"It may have been half a century since I've been there, but the path is as fresh in my mind as though it was yesterday." Axton shrugs nonchalantly. "What would be the fun of telling you when I can show you? You'd have no need of me, then."

Marcelene tips her head up then stares around the forest. "Aries makes a valid argument. We might be far enough north to avoid the shadow beasts, but I'd rather linger as little as possible in the woods. We will need our rest soon. We've been traveling since sunrise, only taking a small break for lunch. We're going to burn ourselves out at this rate."

"This seems like as good of a place as any," I say as the trees thin out next to a small stream.

"Good enough if you want to sleep in the mud," Marcelene chides. Phoebe looks just as appalled at the idea of laying here.

"It's not a good idea to stay in this part of the forest," Axton says, looking warily around us. "There should be a small village, no more than a hundred settlements, about an hour from here if we keep moving on."

Could this be a trap?

Silence thick enough to cut with a dagger fills the air but we are short on options. Sybil glances up at the sky burdened with darkening clouds. The scent of petrichor lingers heavy in the air. "It would be nice to be under a thicker shelter than the trees should that storm hit us," she says.

"I agree," Marcelene says, sniffing the air. "It won't do us any good to get soaked to the bone this early in the spring."

"As the ladies wish." Nero bows with a wink before snatching back his pack from the ground.

We keep walking for what feels like an eternity and soon even the murmur of conversation ceases, replaced by heavy panting. Marcelene had shifted and flown in the direction Axton indicated to ensure the thief was not lying and to all our surprises, she did see an agglomeration of little wooden houses. Aris and Phoebe walked at the back of the group whilst Nero and I took the front line, following directions from Axton.

The gurgling of empty stomachs fills the silence when the tree line breaks open and down the hill is a small cluster of houses. But no smoke can be seen coming from the buildings, nor are there any other signs of life. The village is inhabited by ghosts alone.

"Do you think it's abandoned?" Sybil asks, twisting her fingers in the fabric of her skirt. Lemon stands on her shoulder and sniffs the air before glancing at me.

Nero shields his eyes from the glare of the setting sun peeking through the clouds and replies, "I can't tell from this distance. But I'd rather take my chances and find out either way."

"We have little to offer in exchange for a roof over our heads, unless they need healing." Sybil sighs, lugging her satchel higher on her shoulder. My fingers itch to carry the weight for her, but I know she's too strong headed to let me.

Axton holds up a jingling bag of what can only be coins and assures us, "Oh, don't worry. We will be able to afford a few rooms and a warm meal." He adds, "Don't ask questions you already know the answer to, unless you'd rather sleep out in the storm."

"Let's go," I say, biting my tongue. With Nero now in the lead, we all begin our descent down the steep and rugged decline into the valley.

Silence engulfs us as we cautiously approach the outskirts of the desolate town. The air is still, devoid of the usual rustle of clothes on lines and the murmur of people living their lives. Only a few of the houses still stand, and the ones that do have doors hanging askew, some torn from their frames entirely. Cracked windows, coated in a thick layer of dust, peer out like blind eyes, while wild vines snake through every crevice, reclaiming the structures with their relentless growth. The scene is one of eerie abandonment and a hasty departure.

"What do you think transpired here?" Sybil whispers.

"Tricella," Nero answers without batting an eyelid. We all turn to him and he gestures to a house with a collapsed roof. On its side run four deep gouges, the wood darker in the areas coated with dried blood. "These look exactly like the claw markings we've seen in the towns she's previously attacked, although it was rumored to have been shifters."

"I can see why someone would think that. The pattern looks exactly like claws." Sybil walks over and touches the marks, hands glowing faintly with her magic. "But there is no trace of their essence. The attacks must have been at least a decade or two ago.

I leave the group to walk to the nearest house.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" I call out, stepping onto the porch of a modest single-story abode with a robust roof. The door, burdened by neglect, protests with a mournful creak, releasing a cloud of musty particles and stale air. The rotten floorboards creak under my boots. A solitary table with six chairs rests against the wall. Its surface is encrusted with grime and petrified remnants of half-consumed meals, as if the occupants had abruptly vanished mid-feast. A shiver dances down my spine as I venture deeper into the dwelling, my path interrupted by wispy cobwebs. The remaining three bedrooms, the bathroom, and the kitchen all bear the marks of hasty abandonment. Clothes still hang in the wardrobes, the beds have remained unmade, waiting to be filled again, and toys are scattered in the childrens' rooms. A whole life left behind, like so many other shifters had to do. Did these people make it to the camp? Do they sit in Tricella's dungeons or six feet under somewhere?

"You can come in!" I shout to my companions, who enter the main room one after the other. "It appears no one has set foot here in a long time. The house seems secure for the night, save for the thick layer of dust."

"I think it's safe to say we can stay here for the night. No matter what happened in the past, it doesn't look like anything is still haunting this place now, except for potential ghosts," Aries says uneasily as he takes off his pack and tosses it to the ground.

"There are only three bedrooms–" Sybil says, glancing at the hallway and back to our group. "Marcelene, Phoebe and I can take one, and the four of you can split between the other two."

"We should still rotate with someone on guard," I say, frowning. If there's anything we have learned in the last week at the rebel camp, it's that safety is an illusion. Especially when we know Tricella is still desperately looking for Sybil. My eyes meet hers and I can see she is thinking the same thing.

A boom of thunder rattles the walls of the house and we all glance outside the open door.

"The storm is coming quickly," Nero says, leaning out of the front door. "Aramis, Aries, Axton and I will see if we can find something to cook for dinner to fill our stomachs before the storm sets in, while the three of ye start up a fire to keep the wee beasties away." He clasps me tightly on the shoulder and gives me a look. I set my pack on the ground next to my sword and untie my bow and quiver.

"Do I look like a housewife to you?" Marcelene says tartly, pointing toward us. "I can bet you I'm a better shot than either of those two you're bringing with you."

"Oh, is that so?" Nero taunts. "Do ye want to make a bet on that?"

Marcelene snorts and tosses her head before grinning. "Don't you know cats love to play with mice? Why don't you and I see if we can catch some dinner before these two do?"

"Deal," Nero says. I frown at him over Marcelene's shoulder, but he only shrugs and grins before heading out the door toward the forest.Aries rolls his eyes and follows them, too.

"Sybil–"

"I know how to start a fire, Aramis. I was living on my own for years. Do you want my cloak? It's a lot warmer than the state yours is in, and I won't need it inside the house by the fire." She stares at the remains hanging around my neck before unpinning her heavy woolen cloak and holding it out to me.

"I cannot take this," I say, but the urge to pull it to my face and inhale her rich scent overwhelms me. I am to protect and care for her, but here she is caring for me.

"Go find us some dinner, otherwise we will never hear the end of it from Nero and Marcelene," she says as she and Phoebe walk outside and around the edge of the house in search of branches and logs for the fire.

"Alright, come on, Axton." I scoop up my bow and quiver from the ground before heading in the opposite direction.

I glance back as a low whistle cuts through the air.

"Well, isn't she a sight to behold," he remarks, his eyes gleaming as he watches Sybil walk toward some of the collapsed houses. "If you don't want her, I'll gladly take her, along with anything else she might offer."

I growl in response, yanking the cloak close to me and draping it over my shoulders, feeling the lingering warmth from her body. "She is not an object, nor is she offering anything," I snap.

Axton clicks his tongue, his voice filled with a mocking tone. "Hmm, I'm not so sure about that, mate. The way her ass moved as she?—"

My fists clench as a crimson haze clouds my vision. "If I hear another breath from you about her, it'll be the last thing you'll say."

"And what are you going to do about it, Prince of Shadowvale? They may have freed you from the cell but they've taken your powers," he says.

I grab his tunic and pull him toward me but when I see his wide grin; I realize I gave him exactly what he wanted from me: a reaction.

Sybil is my mate, but I cannot afford to lose control like this, just as she cannot lose control with her magic. I let him go and the cuffs feel heavy on my wrists. I can't even remember the feeling of the wind bending to my command anymore.

After a meek dinner of roasted hares and the two last rolls Oscar had gifted us before our departures, we settled into our rooms. Phoebe insisted on taking the first turn guarding outside and after much debate, I let her.

Nero and I take one of the children's rooms and since the beds are too small to accommodate two grown men, we look through the wardrobes and chests of drawers in search of any salvageable blankets that are not moth eaten. The floorboards creak as we lay down and exhale in relief as we finally take the pressure off our legs.

"We're a long way from home, my friend," Nero whispers in the dark, and I know he too is wondering how in Craeweth we ended up with a group like this and a suicide mission.

"I'm just glad you're here for the ride," I whisper back, and we chuckle.

Sleep comes quickly and without mercy. If the last night at camp spent with Sybil in my arms had been the best sleep I had ever had, this particular night is one of the worst. Nightmares of shadow monsters make me jitter, images of Shadowvale in flames, Edmund and all my men dead in a vicious and bloody battle, and Tricella on the throne, with my father's dead body at her feet.

Aramis!

Sybil's terrified voice cuts through the despairing images my brain is conjuring. I look for her in every scenario, horrified by what I'll see, but she's not there. Aramis, please!

My eyes snap open and I sit up, holding my hand to my chest as her voice reverberates through our bond.