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Chapter Two - Theo

H ome smells like winter and of pine and salt – and the scent of his mate, some two dozen steps away – so close, and yet so impossibly far from Theo’s eager hands.

Theo’s eyes linger on Luka’s shoulders, slumped against the driving wind. He only drops his gaze when he senses the guard behind him raise her head, her curiosity like a bright candle against the darkening afternoon. Though Theo knows he shouldn’t blame her – what else is there to do when scaling a mountain if not pry into the business of others? – he resents her sharpness. Even the glances at his mate are stolen now, and it makes his beast growl in frustration.

But his wolf has other things to focus on, like the shortness of his breath and the creaking ache in his bones. His body has regained some thin, weak semblance of muscle, but after nearly a month spent wasting away in a Balivartian prison, his beast drugged into nothingness, Theo… struggles. He’s climbed this mountain thousands of times, starting from age three, but never before has it been so trying. He resists the urge to brace his hands on his knees, and instead grits his teeth.

The air hangs heavy with the promise of snow, and the sky has long since gone dark gray. Wind howls in his ears. Exertion has banished the chill from Theo’s bones – though, judging from the shake in Luka’s shoulders, not from his mate’s.

I just want to hold him. Just once.

Theo stifles the desire, startled because its source doesn’t sound like his beast, but like… like his own.

First, they must face down Cathalan. Theo will find allies in Akull –Commander Jennison will surely be there, waiting to hear the truth behind Theo’s defeat at the siege of Cesscounthe. He owes Theo a favor, and Theo fully intends to collect – assuming Luka’s childhood lover turned friend, Xyla Mobiele, hasn’t already cashed in. Once Theo has people, he will be able to conquer his long-time enemy, the Snake of the South. Then, finally, Theo will have all the time to hold Luka.

Assuming they don’t find themselves at war with the Siacchians first.

The promise Cathalan tore from Theo in exchange for Luka’s safety aches, like the words are a fist around his heart.

Theo shuts his eyes as he imagines Luka’s face when his mate learns that Theo has sworn to help overtake Siacchi for the Snake of the South – a deal that will give away Luka’s homeland – a land that is not Theo’s to give. All promised in exchange for his mate.

But if it means keeping Luka safe, Theo is more than willing to return to the battlefield.

That is where he will always belong.

The snow is falling in thick flakes by the time they make camp midway up the mountain. Theo’s cloak keeps the worst of the wet away, but the chill still seeps deep. He can hear Luka’s teeth chattering despite the distance between them, and Theo is grateful when the Kiteran guide calls for a halt.

The weather only worsens as they prepare camp. The shelter is tucked beneath the outcropping of a rock, but the wind drives hard, and Theo’s numb fingers struggle to light the fire. He uses his body to shelter the weak flames from the oncoming blizzard, assessing the pile of wood remaining in the camp’s stores. It should be just enough to get them through the night.

Darri and the other guards erect stout tents, barely wide enough for pairs to sleep in. It will be the best way to survive the cold; the thick fabric is proofed to keep the wet out and the heat in, and with two bodies tucked inside, they will be kept warm.

Luka curls around the fire, his face pale and his jaw tight.

“Here,” Theo says, careful to keep his touch brisk as he pulls the wet gloves from Luka’s hands. He examines each digit, but they are only pale, not blackened with frostbite. “You can make a fist?” When Luka does, Theo nods. “Put them in your armpits. That will warm them fastest.”

The fact that Luka doesn’t automatically protest is enough to tell Theo how tired his mate is.

“Datheo,” Darri calls, and it’s all Theo can do to not curl his lip at the sound of his false name. Though Cathalan needed Theo’s help to reach Akull, it would have been impossible to keep Theo safe from blood-thirsty Balivartians had the guards known Theo’s identity. If the guards surrounding them learned Theo was Theodori Hunter Wolf-born, a Sevell commander from Kitera, they would be eager to claim vengeance against him due to the lives lost from the decade-old border wars. But – they really couldn’t have given me a better false name?

Darri arches a brow. “We need your help over here.”

As Theo helps Darri unfurl the bedrolls, the king’s closest guard, left behind to protect Luka from harm, snares Theo’s arm.

“It makes the most sense for the two of you to share a tent this evening.” Darri doesn’t even look at Theo as he says it, his attention focused on smacking a tent to life. “I know that you will work the hardest to keep him safe.”

Theo’s nostrils flare despite knowing that Darri has to be lying. Already, his body hardens at the thought.

“Just know.” Darri casts Theo a dark look. “I’ll hear everything .”

“Maybe I like an audience,” Theo growls.

Darri raises a brow. “Something about you tells me that you don’t like to share, Theodori.”

Theo glances at Leif, the Kiteran guide, but the man is too far away for his human ears to have heard Theo’s name. Still, he pulls his fur hood tighter over his head, grateful for the way imprisonment has hollowed his face and rendered him unfamiliar.

Darri smiles. “See?” he says. “You’re already behaving.”

The guard leaves before the growl wrenches from Theo’s throat.

Dinner is a thick, meaty soup, warmed in pounded tin bowls over the fire. Theo eats so quickly he burns the roof of his mouth, spooning the steaming bites in as fast as he can chew.

Leif eats at his own smaller campfire at the base of the alcove. The storm outside has only escalated, and even the wall of low tents can’t keep the full brunt of the thrashing winds from breaking in. Darri keeps an eye on Leif, and once the man tucks into his tent for an early night, he faces the rest of the guards and Luka.

“The king will be waiting for us,” Darri says in a low voice. “He will likely have entered Kitera under an assumed identity while he waits for our arrival. Always best to play it safe with northern barbarians.” He doesn’t look at Theo as he continues, “We expect to find new allies in the North and to end our border wars with King Cathalan’s new reign. But we must operate under the assumption that something may go wrong. It will be difficult to escape this place if the Kiterans turn on us, especially with this weather. If they turn on us, Garlian and Vebri, you two are the most adept in the snowshoes; you must return to Baccarna and Selissa at the base of the mountain to report back home. Study our trail closely. You might have to make your return alone.”

The two Balivartians, faces wan, nod.

Darri addresses each of the guards in turn, giving over half of them the order to retreat. They discuss different escape routes – and Darri’s eyes flicker to Theo as he does so. The motion is nearly imperceptible, and the nod that Theo gives when he confirms or rejects the path Darri has named with a shake of his head is even more subtle.

Theo tries to ignore the way his compliance makes his stomach turn. It’s a small betrayal – the Kiterans are too noble to turn on us either way – but he still struggles to hold Darri’s gaze when the guard looks to him.

The conversation carries on for the better part of the hour before Darri has each guard repeat back their orders. Their rolling Balivartian dialect muffles the words, making their hushed voices difficult to distinguish over the roar of the storm outside. Theo is careful to note each order ( that one is the one who will defend their escape, this is the one Darri trusts with Cathalan’s life ).

At last, Darri is satisfied. “I have faith in you all,” he says in a low, slow voice. “Now rest up. We have a long day tomorrow.”

Dismissed, the guards break into chattering groups, and Theo takes his time spooning out the remains of his soup so he doesn’t immediately rush to Luka’s side. Throughout Darri’s speech, Luka’s alert gaze slowly softens, the shivers returning to his shoulders.

A hand catches Theo’s arm as he rises. Darri leans down, smelling of woodsmoke as he whispers in Theo’s ear, “Remember who you are, Datheo. You’re to keep him safe. Nothing more,” before he continues to a pair of guards, seamlessly joining their conversation.

Theo’s initial response is hot anger, but once that cools, he casts about a slow glance. Darri is right; Theo is already on thin ice. A mysterious man joining the ranks of the typically elite royal guards is suspicious enough without Theo having a close relationship with the newly crowned First Consort – be that a First Consort crowned in the name of a false marriage or no. Theo doubts Luka and Cathalan have officially wed themselves to each other. Luka will go to great lengths to assure alliances, but that would be… too far.

But when Luka yawns delicately, Theo finds logic too weak a force to keep him away. He’s on his feet and across the shelter in half a heartbeat.

“These tents are made for two, you know,” Theo says. “For warmth.”

Luka straightens, his lips curling upward. Then his gaze sharpens, as if he’s fully registering it’s Theo who spoke. He says, a little gruffly, “Good timing. I need to retire.”

Theo tries not to rush to the tent at the base of the cavern – the safest and warmest position. Before the two of them slide inside, Theo casts a furtive glance toward the other guards, but none watch them with suspicion. No, instead Darri passes a small clay bottle to a pretty woman with blonde curls, and she takes a long drink before coughing, rubbing at red cheeks. Theo briefly entertains the idea that Darri distracted the guards so he and Luka could steal this time alone before dismissing it – Darri isn’t kind enough for such things.

The interior of the tent is just wide enough for both Luka and Theo to fit so long as they press tightly together, shoulder to shoulder. Luka squeezes in first, removing his heavy, snow-caked boots.

“I’m not happy with you, you know,” Luka whispers as Theo does the same.

“What? What now?” First Theo is captured by his sworn enemy, and then Luka is married to that enemy, only to be poisoned by would-be assassins. Surely they could have a moment of peace.

Luka narrows his eyes. “What now?” he repeats. “You hid the fact that we’re mates for months, Theo. When did you learn?” His eyes narrow further. “It was back in Cesscounthe, wasn’t it?”

Theo scoots into the tent and pulls the canvas flap shut. It’s dark inside, and it takes Theo’s eyes a moment to adjust, to see the furrow between Luka’s brows.

“Well?” Luka hisses. “Tell me. This might be the last moment we get time alone together.”

Exactly! Theo wants to cry. So let’s savor it while we can.

But Luka has a point.

Theo crawls into their shared sleeping sack, settling beneath the heavy furs and fabrics. They stink of unclean animals, but they’re impossibly warm. He takes another long moment to consider his answer. The truth sours on his tongue.

He finally says, “Yes. I realized back in Cesscounthe, but I didn’t say anything because I was… I was afraid.”

Luka’s eyes widen. “What?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Theo grumbles.

“Afraid? But you’re – you’re not afraid of anything.” There’s an odd breathlessness to Luka’s words.

Theo chuckles, low and bitter. “That was before I met you.” That was before I had something I needed to be afraid of losing. His gaze follows the nervous dance of Luka’s fingers. He traces the pale, blue-veined underside of Luka’s long arms. Delicate. His mate is terribly delicate.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Luka whispers.

Theo closes his eyes as he casts his thoughts back to that moment, at the seat of his failure in Cesscounthe, just betrayed by his lover and having learned that his infuriating prisoner of war was actually his mate. The anger he felt then hadn’t been anger at all, but warped fear – fear of what would come next.

“Luka,” he says. “In Kitera, do you know what they do to mated pairs?”

Luka slowly nods, “Didn’t you tell me that… in wartime, they’re kept separate? One will be sent to the battlefield. And the other will be kept in the capital? In Akull?”

“Yes,” Theo says. “If the hopiar in battle decides they wish to flee – if they betray their superiors – their mate is killed.” Theo touches his throat unconsciously at the thought. Though his bond to Luka has yet to be fully sealed, he struggles to fathom Luka – dying . “The pain… it renders the hopiar in battle nearly insane. The mating bond means you can feel as your mate feels. Their happiness. Their pleasure. Their – pain. Most perish alongside their mates.”

Horror dawns on Luka’s face. “If your people discover that we’re mates…”

“Yes. They will force us to complete the mating bond and then separate us. You will remain in the capital and, assuming they don’t punish me for whatever lies Octavian has surely fed them, I will return to the battlefield – to wherever they wish for me to be.”

Luka lies back onto the furs at Theo’s side, his eyes tracing the tent’s ceiling. He’s so close to Theo, their arms brush. The sensation tightens Theo’s throat in a delicious way, and he scolds himself – this is not the time to be acting like a teenager.

But that’s what Luka does to him; the Siacchian renders Theo stupid in the worst (and best) of ways.

“I still want you to apologize,” Luka mutters. “For hiding it from me.”

“I’m sorry,” Theo says immediately. “It was stupid. I just – I never felt this way about someone before –”

“And you think I have?” Luka’s words rise to a hissing fervor. “I didn’t understand myself, Theo. All my life, I’ve been told that only idiots and fools let their emotions control their actions, and I’ve been doing nothing but that around you.” He throws himself onto his side, dark curls falling across his face as he glares at Theo, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. He looks so beautiful.

“Idiots and fools?” Theo smiles.

“Yes! The logical thing would have been to abandon you so, so long ago, but instead I found myself coming up with the most ridiculous plans to try and save you from Cathalan’s prison – which, by the way, you haven’t thanked me for either.”

“Why would I thank you? I was seconds from saving myself.”

Luka snorts. “More like seconds away from starving yourself to death.”

“If you had waited another day – and not married that demon prince – I would have escaped, and I could have saved the both of us.”

Luka’s eyes dart from Theo’s stare to Theo’s lips. His blue gaze draws a line of fire across Theo’s face, so heavy it might as well have been a touch.

“I think,” Luka says, voice dropping to a low, husky whisper. “That you’re full of –”

But Theo can’t contain himself any longer. The warmth of Luka’s body, pressed against his side, the heat of the man’s every exhale – it’s all torture. Terrible, terrible torture. And that flick of Luka’s tongue, pink and wet, across his lips before he speaks, the flush rising in his cheeks –

Theo wraps his arms around Luka. He draws Luka close, breathing in the heady scent of him. His beloved mate, in his arms at last.

And then he kisses Luka.

Their mouths collide with an audible click. The kiss is half teeth, half lips. Luka’s whisper seamlessly shifts from angry hissing to a soft, breathy exhale that Theo captures with his mouth. Luka tastes of salt and home, and Theo can’t get enough.

“Theo,” Luka whispers, the word stuttering across Theo’s lips. Luka’s tongue is hot in Theo’s mouth.

Hands scrabble at Theo’s waist, eagerly peeling back furs. Theo cannot contain a muffled gasp when Luka’s fingers, cold but soft, meet the naked skin of his chest.

Theo kisses down the length of Luka’s neck, biting and sucking while Luka’s hands explore his body. Chilled fingers skirt over Theo’s chest, caressing his nipples before curling to meet his waist. Luka pulls Theo closer – closer – like he hates the idea of even the smallest space between them.

Theo’s tongue finds the hollow of Luka’s throat where he can feel Luka’s pounding pulse. He traces the tendons bulging there, and a loud moan breaks from Luka’s lips.

Theo slaps his hand over Luka’s mouth, shooting Luka a look. They both pause, straining to hear the Balivartians.

The conversation around the campfire quiets.

Luka’s throat bobs against Theo’s lips, his fingers dancing around the curve of Theo’s back. They remain frozen for three very long seconds before one of the Balivartians says something and the group bursts into laughter. Luka’s smile presses against Theo’s fingers, the gleam in his eyes wicked as his hands trail lower –

Theo runs fingers through Luka’s hair, pulling at the knots in his curls, keeping his other hand clapped over his mate’s mouth. Luka pauses again, the groan bursting from his lips barely muffled by Theo’s hand.

“You like that?” Theo rasps. “You like it when I’m rough with you?”

Images of Luka splayed before him, lips wet and red – on his knees begging for Theo’s cock, bent over while Theo nudges his cheeks and presses against his tight –

“I don’t let people manhandle me,” Luka growls through Theo’s fingers, eyes sparking.

Theo pulls Luka’s hair again, and Luka’s eyes roll back. “Are you sure about that?”

Luka’s fingers slip beneath Theo’s trousers and find his cock. The world jerks to a halt when Luka palms him, and Theo’s hips stutter, shoving closer, closer – oh, yes –

Luka peels Theo’s hand away from his lips and whispers in Theo’s ear, so close his teeth graze Theo’s lobe, “Are you sure you aren’t the one looking for some manhandling?”

“When it comes to you,” Theo whispers. “I’ll let you handle anything.”

Luka grips Theo’s cock and strokes down the length. Stars burst behind Theo’s eyes. The sensation is… unimaginable. The pleasure consumes him, and the world shrinks to the growing heat of Luka’s hand –

Theo seizes Luka’s hips and rolls him so he faces away from Theo. He yanks Luka toward him so he can press his cock against Luka’s ass. Luka muffles his moan with his arm.

“Oh, you look so beautiful,” Theo murmurs as he slides his hands beneath Luka’s trousers to grip his hips. “You’re going to look so beautiful when you take my cock, Luka. Oh, I wish I could hear you scream for me –”

“Theo,” Luka gasps, hips bucking.

Yes, this is where I’ve always wanted him. Begging me, calling my name – finally, finally , I can claim him, we can be fully mated –

Reality slams into him, sharp and painful.

“Luka,” Theo rasps. Luka shoves his ass against Theo’s cock. He’s soft and warm and pliant, and Theo wants nothing more than to bury himself inside –

No.

“Luka.” Theo clears his throat. “Luka, we can’t. Not now.”

Luka blinks, eyes hazy. He stares at Theo, his gaze trapped on Theo’s lips as he leans in.

With a force of will he didn’t know he had, Theo places a hand on Luka’s chest to hold him back. “If we – if we do anything tonight, I won’t be able to stop myself, and I – I can’t seal our bond, Luka. Not now. Not when we’ll be in Akull in two days. If the Elders discover us…”

Luka shakes his head. “You don’t need to worry about that, Theo,” he says. His right hand curls into a fist, obscuring the strange, circular scar on his palm. Theo asked about it before, but each time the question left his lips, Luka shook his head and refused to explain. “I’ll – I’ll be safe.”

Tenderness warms Theo’s heart, contesting the painful ache in his loins. He rests a hand on Luka’s cheek. Luka leans into the touch. “I would never do anything to put you in harm’s path, Luka. As much as I want to be inside you now –”

Luka groans softly at the thought, and Theo’s hips automatically buck at the sound.

“– I can’t do this. Not if it means the Elders have something else to hold over me. To hold over you.” Theo leans close, so their noses brush. Luka’s pants bloom on his lips. “Besides, I’ll have plenty of time to torture you later.” He nips at Luka’s ear.

“Bold of you to assume you’ll be the one administering the torture,” Luka rasps. His pupils are so wide, Theo wonders if he’ll fall into them. “Don’t you know I was always the one giving in my past relationships?”

Theo raises a brow. “Past relationships?”

Luka muffles his snort of laughter in Theo’s shoulder. “What? Did you think I’d never lain with anyone before?”

“Well – I – I mean –”

“I know without a doubt that you have. Or did you think I could somehow forget Octavian?”

Theo’s lip curls at the mention of his lieutenant turned traitor. “He’s not easily forgotten.”

Luka chuckles again, and Theo places a finger under his chin, lifting his face. “If we mate now – we seal this bond between us. You understand what that means now, yes?”

A faint red flush spreads across Luka’s pale cheeks. He blinks, throat bobbing with a swallow before he replies, “We – we’ll be mated until we die.”

“We feel each other’s emotions. If you’re sad, I’ll be sad.”

“And if you’re…” Luka trails off, looking down at Theo’s bulging erection.

“Yes, yes.” Theo laughs, but then swats Luka’s hand away when it drifts toward his crotch. “I’m serious, Luka. I’ve wanted you for so long, but it’s too dangerous. It’s one of the reasons why I never let myself… care about someone like this before.”

Luka shifts closer to Theo, pressing his head against Theo’s chest. He’s so much smaller than Theo, and so warm. Kitera’s howling winter falls away in Luka’s arms. Everything falls away. The aches and weakness in Theo’s tired body, the fears of what will come when they arrive in Akull – it’s all so much smaller here, where he’s safe.

Theo closes his eyes.

“I never let myself care about anyone either,” Luka whispers as sleep hovers above them both. “But I’m… I’m glad I have.”

“Me too, Luka. Me too.”

The next day and a half passes in a blur. Theo isn’t sure how well he hides his bliss the following morning, but it isn’t until they’re near the tip of the mountain that he realizes no one will notice. Unlike Luka and Theo, the Balivartians and Leif emerged from their tents looking worse for wear, heavy bags under their eyes. No one makes an effort at conversation over a meager breakfast beyond a quiet complaint about returning to the snow. Theo doesn’t care. Even now, as his thighs burn from walking and his ankles chafe in his boots, he’s practically floating.

When they break for lunch beneath an overhang the Kiterans built centuries before, the already gray sky grows darker. Leif mutters something about needing to hurry into Akull before the bad blizzards hit, and Theo takes a moment to steal time with Luka.

“Do you see them?” Theo whispers over his mouthful of dried jerky and steaming tea. He is all but leaping with excitement. He spotted them only moments before, thank the Mother for his luck.

Luka’s lips are pale, nearly blue. He’s curled his entire body around his mug of tea. “See what?”

Theo resists the urge to press his warmth into Luka’s body and instead attempts to breathe more life into their small fire pit. The wood rests in the hole, sheltered from the wind, but sputters stubbornly against the damp, releasing spouts of smoke.

“Over there, behind that bend.” Theo extends his mittened hand over Luka’s shoulder. He directs Luka’s attention to the opposite peak, barely visible through the darkening clouds. Movement flickers over the snow, distance rendering it the size of Theo’s thumbnail, when he knows in reality, it’s nearly twice as large as his human form. But he knows them – knows them better than his own hands.

“What is it?”

“Egarara.”

“What?” Luka blinks.

“And there, right next to her, that’s probably Leiro. He was always a smarmy bastard, but I’m glad to see he’s still well. I can’t tell about the others, not from this distance.”

“Are you… are you making a joke?” Luka uncurls, gaping at Theo over his tea.

Heat spreads up Theo’s neck. “No. Well, those are the names I gave them as a child,” he says, softly. His excitement wilts. “That’s – they’re – you can see them, right?”

“I mean –” Luka squints in the direction of Theo’s finger. “Barely. They’re – they’re wolves, right?”

Theo nods. “You know my full name, don’t you?”

“Theodori Hunter Wolf-Born,” Luka recites so quickly, he immediately flushes after the name leaves his mouth. “Yes. I’m aware,” he mutters afterwards, as if trying to recover his dignity.

“Wolf-Born is literal. I wasn’t born human.”

“Your poor mother.” Luka says the words dryly, but his eyes are wide – almost scandalized. Had they been anywhere else, Theo might have laughed.

“Yes – had she been human, she would have died. But hopiar sometimes have such births. It’s a sign that I have a very powerful wolf.”

“But Egarara and Leiro aren’t… they aren’t your parents, are they?”

Again, regret strikes Theo like a stone. He looks out across the Balivartians, wondering if they’ll be leaving soon. He was so eager to share his old life with Luka, so stupid to think that painful questions wouldn’t emerge.

But the group is stuck in quiet conversation, sipping their tea with care as they eye the weather. Only Leif and Darri watch Luka and Theo; Leif’s eyes are cast in mild curiosity, while Darri’s gaze is darker.

Theo looks out at the wolves again. They’ve vanished into the wintery cliffsides now, and the distance between them makes it impossible for Theo to catch their scent. He wonders if they saw him, too. If they remember him.

There are few left to miss him at home. Fewer still that will welcome his return. The thought tears at him with jagged teeth – but does any of that matter now, with Luka here? Now that he has the person who will always be at his side, who will care for him no matter what they must face together.

Theo can’t let their arrival at Akull break them apart.

“My parents are dead,” Theo says. “Being Wolf-Born meant that my parents gave me to the wild to be raised by Egarara’s pack. Wolves like Egarara are descended directly from the Wolf Mother. They live until She calls them to death, and they are blessed with human intellect.”

“Oh,” Luka says, face unreadable.

“Being Wolf-Born means respect – if you survive. It was… it was difficult, but it made me stronger. It was how I earned a position under Commander Jennison at such a young age.” Theo closes his eyes. Those early memories of his life are punctuated by long stretches of hunger and cold, with the occasional hot, salty taste of blood filling his mouth.

“Theo,” Luka says, voice soft. Theo looks at his mate, and is shocked to see how gentle Luka’s face is. “That’s not a childhood.”

When Theo only stares at Luka, Luka’s cheeks redden. “How – Theo, how did you maintain human speech? Or how did those wolves keep you from getting sick?”

“I was brought back to my parents once a month and would turn human then. And illness? What are you talking about? It’s not as if I were eating rotting corpses. Egarara’s pack took care of me. It made me strong, Luka. My parents did it so I could have a future as a brilliant Sevell – a Vell, even . They knew if I lived, I would become a renowned military commander.” Theo’s aware that his voice is rising above their conspiratorial whisper, that his cheeks are growing hot with protest, though he’s not sure why.

Luka’s hand rises, moving as if to touch Theo’s knee, before awkwardly halting, as if remembering they aren’t alone.

“I’ll introduce you to them – to them all,” Theo promises after a long silence. “My pack. Commander Jennison. I want them to meet you.”

Luka’s eyes crinkle with joy. “I would be happy to,” he says. “I’m glad some good can come of all this.” Despite the smile on his lips, his thumb worries the scar on his palm.

Though Theo wants to ask, he doesn’t. Instead he grins back. There will be plenty of time for Luka to explain, after all.

And then, suddenly, they’re outside Akull’s walls.

Returning is a punch to the face. Memories rush in like blows too rapid to block while Theo cranes his neck back, staring at the carved ice walls. Though typically mobile, after winter grips Kitera, Akull firmly anchors itself in the northern heart of the country. Inside, it will be bustling.

Beyond them, the icy pines sway. Snow falls thickly, coating Theo’s eyelashes. The gray sky looms, promising worse storms yet to arrive.

Their group made good time; Leif is good at his job. He guided them down the mountain with little hesitation, half an eye turned to the weather and half an ear turned toward the snow leopard stalking them. Though neither threat came to fruition, Theo appreciates his skill.

Last night, the final night before arriving at the capital, Darri again ran his group through the plan. Standing outside the carved gates of Akull, staring at the brutally shaped snarling wolves chiseled into the ice walls, Theo can smell the Balivartian's’ fear. Their anticipation.

“Greetings!” Leif calls from below, pulling his hood back to reveal his face despite the wind whipping blond hair from his braid. “I come bearing Balivartian guards and the Balivartian king’s First Consort. They seek an audience with the Elders.”

Tension creeps into Theo’s shoulders as the guard stationed in the watchtower calls a quiet response, heavy with the Kiteran dialect. Leif’s tone changes as he replies, his words lost to the screech of the wind. Luka shoots Theo a nervous glance.

Two guards part the gates and halt their group before they can enter. Leif leans down to speak to a short hopiar woman covered head to toe in furs. “Keep them calm,” she murmurs.

Darri raises his chin, wetting his lips, but before he can speak, the woman turns to them.

“We have the noble you sent,” she says to Darri in a low, smokey voice. “Leave your guards here, bastard, and we’ll leave your people unharmed.” She has filed deep grooves into her front teeth, sharpening them to look like fangs. There is something familiar about her face. She says the words so calmly, it takes Theo half a heartbeat to register that it’s not a statement – it’s a threat.

Darri’s eyes flash, and Luka takes a step back.

“Run, and your people will meet their end, and we will kill your noble,” the woman continues. She’s armed only with a small axe, and her hand rests on the wooden hilt as she speaks, though the motion looks more habitual than it does threatening.

Darri raises his hands and speaks slowly, “I was under the impression that this was a peaceful gathering.” Though he does not glance back at Theo as he speaks, his shoulders shift slightly.

The woman’s eyes flicker to Theo. Recognition flares. “This is him?” she says to Leif.

Leif nods.

Shock pummels Theo.

You idiot.

Malnutrition and time hadn’t faded his appearance as much as he hoped. How long has Leif known who Theo is?

Did he see me with Luka?

Does he know?

Half a second ticks by in a slow, viscous drip. Theo’s eyes dart from the guards, still frozen in shock – there are two dozen of them and only three Kiterans, but this is the capital, they will be murdered quickly and easily –

But why have they taken Cathalan captive?

Kiterans aren’t known for diplomacy – but they are known for their honor. And they aren’t fools.

Theo tucks his arms behind his back as his hands curl into fists. It won’t be long before the Kiterans turn their attention to Luka – what better way to keep the Balivartian King under their thumb than to threaten his First Consort? It doesn’t matter that Cathalan arrived under the guise of a noble to keep him safer. Luka is in danger. But if they lay a single claw on Luka’s head –

Theo steps forward, curling his lips into a snarl. “If you knew who I was, you could have said as much,” he growls to Leif before addressing the woman. “ Sevell Theodori Hunter Wolf-Born, returning from the field. As you know, I’ve secured an alliance with the South, and it seems you are rapidly digging yourself into a war we can’t afford by keeping their newly crowned First Consort captive – ”

The Balivartian guards draw back in horror as Theo speaks. At least half of them are old enough to have fought in the horrible border wars between the North and the South, so they’re undoubtedly familiar with his moniker, Wolf-Born. Their hands stray toward knives as their lips curl, but when the Kiteran woman fixes them with a cold gaze, they freeze.

“Don’t be foolish,” the woman says, and it is then, hearing the knife’s edge of her voice, that Theo recognizes her; Vittoria Healer Wolf-Born. She had been assigned as a medic during his siege. Not once has he seen her fight.

Judging by her artificial fangs, things have changed since Theo’s defeat. Or perhaps this was her true identity, and her role under Theo was a guise so she might act as a spy for the untrusting Elders.

Vittoria looks Theo over with a scowl. Despite her small size, Theo knows better than to underestimate her. Her exposed cheeks and nose redden as the snow starts to fall in thick clumps. “Theodori.” She says his name like it carries a foul taste. “You didn’t return with us when Cesscounthe fell. We were told…” She pauses, her nostrils flaring.

Theo resists the urge to close his eyes at his own foolishness. Too long he has been away from his own people. Too long – and he has grown so, so soft.

Vittoria’s eyes dart from the Balivartian soldiers to land on Luka. She inhales deeply. Though Luka’s fear clouds the air, much the same as the other Balivartians, he does not look away from Vittoria’s stare.

“Get the chains,” Vittoria says to the soldiers beyond her. “Execute any who protest – we don’t need more mouths to feed.” Her eyes linger on Luka in a way that boils Theo’s blood. His beast stirs in his chest with a rumble that echoes in his ribcage.

“This one,” Vittoria says, gaze flickering from ice-blue to a brown so deep it looks almost black as she looks at Luka. “Put this one with the noble. It will be a good message to their king. We don’t treat spies kindly here.”

She smiles as she says this, finally glancing back toward Theo as she says, “Welcome home, Theodori. We’ve been waiting for you.”