Page 49

Chapter

Thirty-One

TATE

My thoughts are on Ara while I’m on my way to the library. Nothing new there, but I’m worried. Ever since I caught her talking to Cassius and then handed her the letter, she’s seemed off and on edge.

It also pisses me off that she potentially spoke to Cassius about it but doesn’t say a peep to me.

Eight days on patrol also gave me too much time to think about all the possibilities. We nearly lost Zaza today, and just the thought of what might have happened if Ara had been with us makes me sick.

I have had enough of tiptoeing around. I won’t give up until she answers my fucking questions and spills whatever is bothering her.

The library is dark and quiet. I grab a lamp from the front desk, nodding at the librarian standing there, and head into the labyrinth of bookshelves, already planning how to coax information out of Ara.

The pounding of running steps is the only warning I get before someone jumps out of the shadows of a narrow pathway. I drop the lamp, swipe a dagger, and press the other person into the shelves without thinking twice.

Adrenaline floods my body, and I brace for a fight, but my opponent doesn’t struggle. The lamp went out when I dropped it, plunging us into darkness.

The other person is slender and smaller than I am, chest heaving, heart thundering against my arm. My hold on the blade is steady, ready to strike if needed.

Then I register the scent, a scent that has been haunting me for weeks now.

“Ara?”

“I’m happy to see you, too,” she answers dryly, sounding breathless, and I quickly sheath the dagger.

“Mists, did I hurt you?” I ask and start checking her over. I have been anything but careful since my mind instantly went into fight mode. My finger encounters wetness at her throat, and I curse.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you.” I lean in closer, but it’s too dark to see anything. “Here, let me fix it.”

“It’s fine, Tate. It’s barely a scratch,” Ara whispers, still breathless. Fuck, I love hearing her say my name.

“Say that again,” I demand.

“I’m fine?” She sounds confused.

“No, my name,” I growl, and her breath hitches, setting my skin on fire.

“Tate,” she whispers and rests her hands on my chest, softly, questioningly. My heart picks up speed.

This is such a bad idea.

I should step away, walk away. But… I can’t.

She fists my shirt, and I lean in, unable to fight the pull she has on me. I place one arm next to her head to steady myself, and my other hand finds her face, cupping her cheek.

She turns into my touch, her lips brushing the inside of my wrist. It’s such a small, barely there touch, but it sends fire through my veins.

Her lips touch the sensitive skin again, and then she places open-mouthed kisses right above my hammering pulse.

“Ara,” I groan, barely holding on to my restraint.

Her tongue flicks over my skin playfully, deliberately, taunting, and unravels my control quicker than a sharp knife on taut rope.

I’m not sure which of us moves first, but her hands slide up my neck while I pull her into me, her body molding to mine.

Every thought of where we are is lost as soon as our lips meet.

I drown in her scent, her taste, the way she moves. Her lips are soft and demanding against mine, not surrendering but taking.

Her tongue slides against mine in sure, playful strokes and flicks, exploring without hesitation.

She tastes sweet, like the cookies she devours while reading. I pull her closer, angling her head to give me better access, and she nips at my bottom lip.

The sting of her teeth travels straight to my groin, stoking my need for her. The kiss turns from exploring to devouring in a heartbeat.

Steps come in our direction, and I’m so lost in her that it takes a moment before the information sinks in. I jerk back.

Fuck. What am I doing?

My chest is heaving, and I clear my throat while wrestling my control back into place.

“We shouldn’t…” I croak. What was I thinking? Anyone could have seen us, and she would be in trouble, not me.

A light comes closer. Ara is silent apart from panting breaths. I can make out her form but not her expression.

I want to know her thoughts on what just happened, but a librarian comes around the corner holding a lamp.

I take another step away from Ara and turn to the grumpy old woman who eyes us suspiciously.

“The lamp slipped from my fingers,” I lie, my steady voice a complete contrast to the turmoil inside me.

“I heard the noise,” the librarian says in a way that tells us that that alone is an offense in her books.

“I hope you didn’t spill lamp oil all over the books.

” She lifts her lamp and moves to assess the damage with pursed lips.

“Seems to be your lucky day. Follow me,” she mutters, keeping the lamp she picked up, clearly not trusting us with it.

Ara doesn’t say a word on the way back and rushes off the minute we step out of the library.

What did I expect? Only four weeks until Picking and she would risk everything if we are discovered. But fuck, it still stings.

The following morning, I’m called into Deputy Commander Foley’s office.

I haven’t slept much and haven’t had breakfast yet, so to say my mood is not great to start with is putting it mildly, and it gets worse.

“Kyronos, change of plans. The eastern division will take over your patrols for the next five days, and we will send your division up Mount Albión.” He looks up from what he’s writing to glance at me.

“An increasing supply of eggs is on the black market, and I need you to put a stop to this,” he orders.

“Yes, sir.” I nod. He returns to his writing, and I’m about to head out when he adds. “Oh, and I mean the whole division. Your runners missed out on mountain camp, so it will do them good to make up for it before Picking.”

It takes everything not to outright ask him if he has lost his fucking mind. I know the man is grieving, but this is insanity.

“ Or revenge ,” Daeva throws in.

I take another look at Foley, and my stomach twists. He has a calculating gleam in his eyes, and if he seeks revenge for his son’s death, Ara is his target.

Discouraging poachers from stealing eggs by spending a few days on Mount Albión or even catching them in the act is something I support wholeheartedly, but taking the runners with us? That is not the normal procedure.

I have a bad feeling about this, and it gets worse the more I think about it on my way to the refectory.

“What crawled up your ass?” Jared asks when he sees my face. I grab the apple next to his plate and sink my teeth into it.

“Hey, get your own food,” Jared protests, but then looks at the big clock on the wall and gets up as well. It’s only five minutes until formation. He sighs and hands me half of his sandwich.

“I’m only doing this because you are unbearable otherwise,” he informs me while we leave the dining hall.

I fill him in on the way. Jared doesn’t see it as bleak as I do, but he hasn’t seen Foley’s look.

“Don’t you think it’s strange to send the runners out with us?” I raise my eyebrows in question while I step aside and hold the door open for a group of runners rushing past us.

He shrugs. “Maybe leadership does try to give them a chance to catch up?”

“By effectively sending them into combat?”

“It doesn’t have to come to that. There is no guarantee we will encounter anyone,” he argues.

I snort. “True, but if we do…” I shake my head. “Do you think fighting an enemy who has nothing left to lose is a good way to ease them into things?”

Jared gives me a knowing look.

“The life of a skyrider is deadly,” he says. “We all know that, and it’s not like we can change anything about the orders. We can only try to make the best of it.”

“That still doesn’t mean I have to like it,” I grumble.

We left the academy at first light, and the ledge we picked for our camp on Mount Albión is still cloaked in mist—or rather low-hanging clouds.

The sun will burn them away quickly as soon as it rises, but for the moment, it only barely reaches the peaks of the mountains around us, the light still more blue than golden.

Our camp is bordered by a cliff on one side with a steeply inclining path as the only way in or out and the sharp drop of the mountainside on the other. Tall pine trees surround us, keeping us out of sight.

Most runners and riders are occupied with tents while a few key players stand before me.

Ara is one of them, and by the looks she throws me, I know she wonders why she’s here since she’s the only runner.

We are in my tent, which doubles as a meeting place for now.

We are high up in the mountains, and the mist shrouding our camp might not be magical, but it still creeps into your clothes, making you clammy and miserable in no time.

“Summer, you stay back and watch the camp,” I order.

Ara lurches back like I’ve slapped her. Her eyes, still locked on me, narrow. I know that look by now—to say she isn't happy about the order is an understatement.

Well, that makes two of us who are unhappy about orders they still have to execute.

The only positive thing about this trip compared to the last is that the runners didn’t have to walk up here, and we won’t have a problem evacuating.

The negative is that we are about to face armed men, who will probably face a life in one of the arenas when caught, and the thirty-two runners with us have nearly no fighting experience.

And the thought of Ara between all of that or jumping in front of me again…I can’t stand even the thought of that. There is no way I can concentrate on fighting or making the right decisions if I worry about her.

As soon as the meeting ends, Ara marches over to me. She stops about five steps away and taps her foot, waiting for the others to clear out.

Jared sends me a pitying glance before he leaves the tent.

“I think I feel a storm brewing, ” Daeva throws in. “I can nearly feel the wind ruffling my feathers.”

Ara is especially good at ruffling feathers, and I enjoy watching her do it, but unfortunately, her ire is directed at me this time.

“Why are you keeping me here?” she whisper-shouts as soon as we’re alone.

“Sunshine, you have no idea what we face out there.” I try to reason with her. “It will be safer—” I don't get to finish that sentence and realize my mistake as soon as the word safer leaves my mouth.

“You have no right to make me wait here while everyone else risks their neck,” she hisses.

Her finger drills into my chest in a staccato rhythm, accentuating her every word.

I capture her hand before she can hurt herself.

I’m wearing armor, after all. When she resumes with the other one, I catch that as well. She glares at me.

“Actually, I have every right to make that decision.” I glance at the markings on my uniform, and she huffs.

“I’m much better with a sword than many others, so what is your…

” She stops tugging on her hands. “Is this about the kiss?” she asks, and I let her hands go.

“If you think you can lock me away in the next belltower because of one little kiss,” she seethes, “then it’s a good thing you changed your mind because—”

“Little kiss?” I raise my eyebrow mockingly. She incinerated me with that little kiss. Seeing the fire in her eyes flare at my words, I want to claim her mouth right here and now.

Keep your cool , I admonish myself.

“If that is keeping your cool…” Daeva’s unwanted comment nearly makes me snap at her, but one pissed-off female is enough. I take a deep breath and address the one in front of me, getting back on topic.

“No, this is about your tendency to act before you think. You throw yourself into danger without any thought about your safety. You don’t take the time to think it through first.”

“Well, that worked in your favor, too, if I remember correctly.” She throws up her hands like she doesn’t understand my fucking problem with that.

“You could have died,” I roar, finally running out of patience and far past fucking caring who hears me.

“Well, you could have, too. But we’re still here, aren’t we? Both of us. And that is because of the tendency you just complained about.”

“You didn’t even know me.” This time, I’m getting in her face. How can she not see my point?

“It seems like I still don’t.” She throws me a disgusted glance, turns around, and marches to the exit. I grip my hair in frustration because she drives me up the wall.

“You will guard the camp,” I order, nearly expecting her to talk back.

“Do I look like I’m stupid enough to hand you or Joel an excuse to kick me out for disobeying orders?” She scoffs. “For my own safety, of course,” she adds mockingly and flips me off before stomping out of view.

I huff out a breath. Now that went well.

“Could have been worse. You wouldn’t be bodily unharmed if you tried something like that with me,” Daeva informs me sweetly.

Great. Why do I always have to pick the bossy ones?

Daeva caws in a way that sounds suspiciously like laughter.

“You didn’t. You were chosen. Be grateful for it,” she informs me.

I bury my face in my hands.

“Charming. I love you too,” I say dryly.

“I know you do. But how would you feel if she left you behind and went out to fight?” Daeva’s voice chimes in again. I would feel like shit, but I’m not ready to admit that yet.

“That is not the same. I don’t act without thinking, and I don’t risk myself—” I’m cut off when Daeva sends me pictures of my encounter with the dragon.

“It seems to me that you are no better than her if she’s involved. That makes you a hypocrite, doesn’t it? Unfortunately, they don’t have wings.” She sounds smug.

Her amusement washes over me.

“You humans are just ridiculous. We always fly into battle next to our mate. Everything else is madness.”

“Noted.” I huff out a breath.

But I won’t go back on my decision. She will be safer here, especially since I suspect Foley is planning something.

The camp holds no eggs and therefore no reason for poachers to come this way. She has an overview of the surrounding area so no one can sneak up on her, and the small path up the mountain makes it impossible for anyone to get to her without passing us first.

So even if Ara is spitting mad at me, my decision is justified.