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Chapter Fourteen - Theo

T he following week sees Theo and Cathalan covering ground quickly. The weather is good, meaning when it is not overcast, it is storming. They rarely see the sun. Cathalan wears his cloak and head coverings just in case, and for all the frustration Theo feels when they move slowly on a sunny day, Theo can’t imagine forcing him to travel any faster, knowing that every injury Cathalan endures, Luka also feels.

Most days pass in silence. There are few late-night conversations now. There is simply nothing to say that is more important than their exhaustion. They try to take watches in turns at first, but the constant travel wears on them, leading them each to nod off on every watch they attempt to take. Theo is grateful for the lack of conversation, and for every evening he can go to bed without the conflicting thoughts about his tangential connection to Cathalan through his mate.

Instead, they watch as the snowy mountains of Kitera melt into the wilted hills of Siacchi. There is no immediate distinction when they cross into the western territory. It only becomes clear they’ve left Kitera behind when Theo encounters the first town he toppled.

“Should we get supplies?” Cathalan asks as he eyes the tiny grouping of buildings from the hillside’s peak. He slides from the horse, looking down at Theo. Theo, unwilling to change from his wolf-form, shakes his head.

Cathalan raises a confused brow, but when it becomes clear Theo won’t offer a reason, he shrugs, remounts, and nudges the horse back into a trot. Theo trails behind, watching the town.

His heart feels strange –like there is a fist wrapped around it.

Siacchi is all shades of brown and yellow grass and pale gray sky. This town, though, is little more than embers. Even from where they stand, far enough away that the citizens are reduced to ants, Theo can make out the destruction he left behind. Destruction these people have yet to recover from.

How likely is it that there, I am the same monster to someone that Cathalan once was to me?

No, that’s not the question he should be asking.

How many people am I a monster to in this town? How many am I monster to in every other town we pass?

A lump gathers in his throat, but Theo swallows past it. He falls into a run.

“You know, with our dwindling supplies, we should take things slow!” Cathalan advises at Theo’s retreating back. But Theo ignores him.

Will this be how Cesscounthe looks when they arrive? Will Theo gaze upon the city he once so desperately wanted to conquer, and will he see nothing but hollow eyes and thin faces, people tottering about on stick legs, unprepared for the winter as they were unprepared for his invasion?

Yes, a voice whispers. You ruined Luka’s home. You did this.

How can he love me?

And worse – how did Theo not see this all before? Before, when he was so desperate for conquering, for conquest. What did he think such an intangible victory would bring? Safety?

He scoffs now, though the noise emerges muffled through his wolf’s mouth, and runs a little faster.

Though he knows it’s not possible to outrun the angry truth in his mind or the errors of his past, he’ll try. He isn’t sure what he’s running to. What could he possibly want to go, now that the thirst for victory has deserted him?

It only takes another three days to arrive before Cesscounthe’s walls.

Theo cannot deny his relief at the sight of the very obstacles that once kept him from his victory. The walls are massive and carved with beasts brought to their knees by human hands–no, not just beasts. Foxes.

Theo, now changed into human form, growls softly. Cesscounthe was never kind to its hopiar , and the thought of the childhood Luka had to endure raises the fur on the back of his arms.

“You might want to be completely human for this,” Cathalan advises from where he walks beside the Kiteran horse. The poor creature shies away from Theo, its eyes widening enough to show the white. It has been trained to handle wolves as well as a prey animal can be, but Theo’s muted growls make it twitch.

Theo grunts. He scowls when he finds his mouth is bulging with inhuman teeth. “I’m out of practice. Too long in wolf form makes it hard to remember how to be completely human.” It’s mostly true; it was easier when he was younger. Easier when he didn’t struggle with the powerful anger at the thought of Luka being treated poorly because he was born hopiar and not human. Theo puts a concentrated effort into tucking away his fur.

They stand close enough to the walls that Theo can make out the twisted snarls of pain on the carved foxes’ faces, moving carefully to avoid being spotted. Dry grass crunches underfoot. The air smells faintly of smoke. They both pause before the remaining shrubbery, taking in the tall grasses that cover the land between themselves and the walls. The gurgle of a stream draws closer.

“Do they usually have people posted in the watchtowers?” Cathalan asks.

“Before? Only at the end of the siege. The Siacchians are supposed to be pacifists. It goes against their customs.” Theo squints. Obviously things have changed in the last three months. The top of the wall is lined with people; some carry torches to ward off the darkening night, and some… are those bows?

“They’re armed,” Theo says, grabbing Cathalan’s arm when he starts toward the tall grasses. “We’re better waiting for nightfall, when they can’t see us.”

“What happened to pacifism?”

Theo frowns. “I’m… not sure,” he starts to say, but then realization seizes him with brutal teeth, and his expression darkens. “They’re using hopiar .”

“How can you tell? Can you see their little furry ears and tails from here?”

Theo glares at the man. “Just as clearly as they can see your wicked fangs, I’m sure.”

Cathalan grins to bare his only-slightly-too-long human teeth.

Theo shakes his head. “It’s something Luka told me –his mother, Linne, she and their people don’t see those who can turn into beasts as… human. So there’s no need to keep their minds pure from violence, as they’ve already been corrupted.”

“Ah, so it’s a prejudice thing.” Cathalan strokes his horse. “Wonderful.”

Before Theo can glare at him, the king says, “We’ll wait another hour then, until it’s completely dark. Where is the entrance to the tunnels?”

“Near the stream.” Theo points. “You can see it from here. We’ll need to be much closer for me to be sure. I’ve only been once, and it’s been months.”

“Wonderful,” Cathalan says again, studiously ignoring Theo’s glare. “I’ll be sad to leave you behind, my darling.”

“I’ll be coming with you,” Theo says, voice dropping to a halting growl.

Cathalan laughs. “No, not you –why would I call you my darling? I was talking to my horse.”

Come nightfall, they steal across the grasses. The yellow fronds wave across Theo’s brow as they crouch, moving with the sway of the wind. Rain hangs heavily in the air as weak moonlight filters down at them, turning the world to shades of gray. Cathalan clings close behind him as they dart across the soft soil, their boots soundless.

As scouts on the watchtower look below, their distant faces highlighted in amber and gold from the torches in their hands, Theo and Cathalan pause. Though the Siacchians surely can’t make out anything in the growing night, they stop twice, just to be certain. Theo is only too grateful that they aren’t heading toward the gate, where the guards are thickest.

Theo finds himself holding his breath. If they are spotted, they will have to run very fast – or pray the Siacchians are as poor at handling weapons as they are rumored to be.

When they finally reach the wall, Cathalan is breathing heavily, despite their slow pace.

“Are you alright?” Theo says, knocking along the wall.

“Just… great,” Cathalan replies, bracing his hands on his knees while he breathes. “I spend every day running from the enemy.”

“Good.” Satisfaction and relief thrum twin harmonies in Theo’s stomach as he finds the door. He gestures Cathalan close as he heaves on the handle once, twice –

“Are you sure this is the right spot, Theodori –”

He heaves a third time, and the door groans – too loudly – as it swings open.

Darkness awaits inside. The air smells of damp. There is the distant sound of something dripping. Cathalan’s hot breaths spill across Theo’s neck as they both peer in.

“I don’t suppose your monster eyes can see in the dark,” Cathalan says. He’s so close, Theo can feel the heat emanating from his body. He tries not to think about it – or about the smell of Cathalan’s sweat and his own scent, something warm and spicy.

“Probably as well as your monster eyes can see.” Theo glances upward. “Hurry in. If they look down now, they’ll spot us.”

“If they haven’t heard us first,” Cathalan says, muffling a yelp as Theo yanks him inside. “Should have brought a torch,” he says with a grumble after stumbling into the dark.

As Theo follows the king and pulls the entrance shut, they’re encased in a tomb-like darkness. They both stand in silence, waiting for their eyes to adjust. They wait long enough that Theo almost jumps when Cathalan says, “We really should have brought a torch.”

“We can follow the wall,” Theo says. He narrows his eyes. Months have passed since he was here last – but hadn’t there been a source of light? Yes, there had been glowing blue lichen. Had he somehow found a different entrance?

Theo’s hand grazes the wall and his heart stills. Yes, there is the spot where the lichen once was, and now only loose soil remains.

Someone removed the lichen.

Someone wants those who enter the tunnels to do so in absolute darkness.

“Follow it to where? ” Cathalan says, breaking Theo from his thoughts. “Do you know where in the tunnels Xyla said the rebels would be?”

Theo bares his teeth, realizing only after the gesture is straining his cheeks that Cathalan can’t see it. “Of course she didn’t tell me that. She didn’t tell you?”

Cathalan pauses as they both make their way to the carved edges of the tunnel. Theo runs his hands along the hard-packed dirt and stone. Each step feels fumbling and uncertain, and he grinds his teeth together. He wants to race along until he finds an answer, but he forces himself to slow.

If I move faster, he’ll only fall behind , he tells himself, biting his lip.

“Why would she tell me?” Cathalan says, and even in the darkness, Theo can hear the disgustingly shy smile in the king’s voice. Theo curls his lip and walks faster.

“Did she say something about me?” Cathalan continues as they walk. He whispers, but even that feels loud in the tunnels, where everything is silent but for a distant drip drip of moisture. “Was it good?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Theo growls. “Why would she ever speak to me–”

“Hush!” Cathalan hisses. He slaps his hand forward, probably intending to hit Theo’s shoulder, but Theo is farther ahead than he likely anticipated. Cathalan’s hand lands on Theo’s lower back instead, and Theo skitters away like a nervous horse.

“What?” Theo growls, baring his teeth. Unbidden, Cathalan's proposition from days ago rises in his mind, but he pulverizes the memory

“Did you hear that?”

“Obviously not –” Theo pauses, straining his ears.

Footsteps.

Before either can react, flames play against the tunnel’s walls, casting long shadows outlined in brilliant gold. And then – muffled voices.

Theo and Cathalan freeze. Theo braces his shoulders, drawing on his beast as the speakers approach.

“No,” Cathalan whispers, laying a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not –” Theo snaps, but he quiets himself when the group rounds the tunnel’s curve.

Heading the pair is a tall, broad man with blade-like features. He bends at the neck to fit inside the low tunnels, and his dark expression grows more ominous when he catches sight of them. At his back, an old woman, already small and made even smaller in comparison, raises her wobbly chin.

“Well,” says the old woman. “As I expected. See, I told you that we’d find someone down here, Damian!”

The tall man – Damian – looks Cathalan and Theo over with a scowl. His nostrils flare and his gaze snaps back to Theo. His stare combs over Theo, taking in his travel-stained clothes and knotted blond hair, before lingering on his eyes.

“What is your name?” Damian demands, his voice little more than a growl. Siacchian. And more than that –

Theo bares his teeth, inhaling deeply. This man is a hopiar.

“Whoa, hold on a moment.” Cathalan raises his hands, stepping between them. “We came here to help you, not to fight–”

“We’re here to help you overthrow Linne Lockehart,” Theo says.

“That’s not your name.” Damian takes a threatening step toward them, standing so close to Cathalan that their noses almost brush. Cathalan must lift his chin to meet his gaze. Theo has to give it to the Balivartian king: he doesn’t waver in the face of the snarling hopiar. “What is your name?”

“Since you asked so politely –” Cathalan tries, placing a hand to his chest, but Damian isn’t looking at him. Damian’s nostrils flare. He has scented Theo – curious. A trained Siacchian hopiar.

“Theodori Hunter Wolf-Born,” Theo says.

“Theodori. Yes, that is the name Xyla told us when she explained that help was coming,” the old woman croons behind Damian, peering around his broad shoulders.

“Xyla is here?” Cathalan’s eyes widen, and he cranes his neck as if to see past them, toward wherever Xyla must be hiding.

The woman’s face, already furrowed with age, grows more lined. “Well, she was here. She left two days ago to head south. She said she hoped to get more allies there, though she didn’t explain why.”

Cathalan presses his lips together, looking impossibly pained. “That’s no good,” he whispers.

“Why?” Damian grunts.

“Because they won’t give her anything unless I’m there.” Cathalan glares at his hands. “Damnit, Xyla. Why didn’t you just wait for me?”

“Maybe you should ask his name, too,” the old woman whispers to Damian. “Because I’m a little unclear as to who he is.”

“I’m unimportant,” Cathalan says, straightening. He brushes invisible dirt from his cloak. “I’m afraid I have to leave you here, Theodori. I can’t let Xyla head to the border villages alone. They won’t – they won’t help her.” He sets his jaw.

Theo stills. He examines Cathalan’s face for a long moment. Oddly, something makes him want to ask the man to stay – but what good would Cathalan be to him? Theo’s life has always been easier when it was just him dealing with problems. Cathalan would only be a hindrance, not help. Still, Theo hesitates a moment more before nodding. There is a strange desperation in Cathalan’s eyes that – despite himself – he recognizes. He empathizes with the feeling. It mirrors the tension in his own chest whenever he thinks of the distance and danger between himself and Luka. He wonders if he should say something – good luck? You’re sure to find her? But none of it feels honest.

The old woman runs a hand through her white hair. “I don’t suppose you’ll explain more as to who you are and how you will supply us the aid Xyla promised?”

“I thought it was obvious – I’m here to help you take back Cesscounthe. And he’s…” Theo gestures to Cathalan, who shoulders his way past Theo to rush down the tunnel. “He’s going to bring us our second round of backup.”

The old woman blinks. “The second round?”

Damian presses his lips together, eyes darting from Theo to Cathalan. “How do I know he’s not rushing to warn the guards at the watchtower?”

“Because I’m one of you. Inhale deeply. Do you scent any lies?” Theo bares his teeth. “We know what horrors Linne Lockehart has wrought here. You know me – you know my name. If I found your base and wished you ill, you would be dead already.”

Perhaps not the best thing to say. Damian bares his teeth and takes another step forward.

Theo releases a hissing breath from between clenched teeth. “But that’s not why I am here.” When he breathes again, deeply, he realizes that the woman is a hopiar, too, only older, her scent more muted. “I’m here to help. Take me to your base and explain your plan.” He looks up to find Damian’s gaze, all but glowing in the flickering torchlight. “You won’t be able to take back Cesscounthe without my help.”