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Chapter Five - Luka

I t has been nearly four months since Luka last saw the woman he once thought he would spend the rest of his life with, but time has been unkind to Xyla Mobiele. Her hair is roughly shorn around her ears and springs from her head in red tufts. Her cheeks are hollowed and lines bracket her mouth. Despite her thinness, her eyes spark with life as she raises her head, taking in Luka and Darri.

“Your king’s First Consort is Luka Lockehart?” Xyla says, still staring at Luka. It takes him a moment to realize she’s speaking to Cathalan.

Cathalan shrugs carelessly. He’s thinner, too, though his body is still lined with lean muscle. A constellation of fingerprint-like splotches of mud mar his cheek. “I was so distracted by your beauty, Xyla- hessa , it must have simply slipped my mind. You never did mention his name, did you?”

She glares at him. “I did. I mentioned it twice . You repeated it back to me.”

“Your beauty is so ravishing. I likely forgot your old lover’s name as soon as it left your lips.”

Luka gapes at them both. Xyla is here – with Cathalan? The joy of seeing Xyla safe is muffled by his own confusion. And they’re – are they flirting ?

Xyla and Cathalan pause in their bickering as above them the Kiteran guards push their cell’s circular cover into place. Their hole is plunged into darkness. The holding cell is a glorified pit approximately twenty feet deep, and the ground is made of hard-packed dirt. Beyond the four of them, their prison is completely bare.

For a while, they stand in silence. Slowly, Luka’s eyes adjust. Darri still looks at the floor, but Cathalan and Xyla both meet his gaze. Cathalan’s stare gleams with an inhuman sheen that makes Luka shudder. His hand automatically moves to his throat – and he looks at Xyla’s neck as he does so.

“Do you really have so little faith in me, Luka?” Cathalan sighs when he sees the gesture. “I just met her. I wouldn’t do something so… intimate.”

“Why are you speaking nonsense again, idiot noble?” Xyla says.

“I love it when you use pet names with me.”

“You cannot hurt her,” Luka says to the Balivartian king. “If you hurt her, I don’t care about this bond between us. I will kill us both.”

Cathalan raises a brow, his grin shrinking by a hair. When his voice emerges, there is a slight undercurrent of hurt. “You really think I’m such a monster, Luka?”

“I don’t know what you are–”

“Cath,” Darri says again, his voice dropping to a deep, angry timber. “How did this happen?”

Cathalan finally looks at his guard. The bravado falls from his face, and he wets his lips. “Darri, I… I’m sorry.”

Luka blinks. Cathalan looks almost ashamed.

Cathalan continues in that same soft, abashed voice, “Was everyone alright?”

“No,” Darri says. “Elvara is dead.”

Cathalan closes his eyes. “May the Lady lay her down softly.”

“She didn’t have to die, Cath. What did you do?” Darri moves toward Cathalan, his teeth gritted so tightly, the muscles in his jaw strain. “I never should have let you go ahead without me – this is all my faul –”

“No.” Xyla steps forward. “It’s my fault. Blame me.”

They all stare at her.

Xyla stands shorter than Luka by half a head. Darri easily towers over her as he approaches, nostrils flaring, but Xyla doesn’t back down. She tucks her chin, saying, “Your name is Darri? I assume you’re Cathalan’s br – guard.”

“Who are you?” Darri’s voice is so tight, so carefully measured, he sounds barely human. His hands shake in poorly contained fists. “And why have you told her so much?” The last angry question is launched at Cathalan, who, glibness returned, offers only a shrug.

Xyla places a hand on her chest. “My name is Xyla Mobiele. I’m Siacchian. I escaped the siege of Cesscounthe and came to the Kiterans for aid since they were betrayed in the battle. Luka and I were… we were–”

“They were lovers,” Cathalan supplies, brows wiggling.

Xyla glares at him so fiercely, Luka is surprised Cathalan doesn’t melt.

“That doesn’t matter,” Xyla says. “I thought my cover was solid upon arriving in Akull. Plenty of soldiers had been scattered during border wars, and I smell of hopiar – of impyassus. ”

Darri’s nostrils flare. “Ah,” he says. “You’re one of the beasts.”

Xyla’s eyes gleam an otherworldly golden amber. “Yes, I am one of the beasts .” She blinks, and her eyes return to a warm human brown. “Things were going well. I was always better with my Kiteran dialect than Luka. But then Octavian showed up out of the blue – just before this idiot noble was supposed to arrive – and the second Octavian saw me, he declared me a spy.”

“ Octavian is here?” Luka says.

Xyla nods. “I didn’t think he would have the balls to return, but against him, the second to a well-known Sevell , my word was… useless.”

Anger flares in Luka’s chest, so hot and bright, it’s almost blinding. “Thought curse that man,” he growls as he kicks at the dirt floor.

Xyla blinks in surprise at his reaction. “That’s more emotion I think I’ve seen you express than in all of our time together,” she says. She continues, ignoring how Luka stares at her in alarm: “Octavian arrived just before the idiot noble, and he convinced their Elders that I was Cathalan’s Balivartian spy. That the West and South formed an alliance and were trying to turn against the North.” Xyla shakes her head, biting her lip. “And I played so perfectly into his story.”

For a brief instant, Luka wonders what it must be like to play a game of Cesse against Octavian. He quashes the thought.

“That’s where they took the Wolf Prince,” Darri says to Cathalan. “To report to their Elders. I’m sure of it.”

“Wolf Prince?” Xyla repeats.

“Theo,” Luka says.

Xyla presses her hands against her face to muffle a groan of dismay. “You’re telling me the best person we have to argue our case is that idiot?”

“He’s – he’s not an idiot,” Luka says.

“He is whenever you’re involved,” Xyla says.

Cathalan and Darri nod. “It’s true,” Cathalan says. “Never have I seen such a skilled strategist crumble faster than when I threatened your life.”

Darri abruptly sits in the dirt, his fall raising a cloud of dust. “So, the one testifying to our innocence is the Wolf Prince – your sworn enemy.” He looks at Cathalan. “And it’s his word against the man who overtook Cesscounthe.”

“Theo will get us out,” Luka says automatically, though the words ring hollow.

“No,” Darri says. He runs his fingers through the dirt. “We need to think of a plan. We can’t count on that fool. How often do they give you water and food? They must be feeding you, or else you’d be much weaker –”

Cathalan holds up a hand. “None of that, Darri.”

“Cathalan, we don’t have time for your antics. This is serious . They have nineteen of our people. Nineteen lives . We need to handle this with care –”

Cathalan crouches by Darri’s side. His eyes are almost luminescent in the dark. He smiles.

“Oh, Darri, do you think I’ve forgotten about our cardinal rule? You can never trust a Kiteran.” He looks over Darri’s shoulder at Luka. His smile widens into a toothy grin. “I –”

“He already has a plan,” Xyla cuts in. “And neither of you are going to like it.”

Ten hours – and some change , Cathalan promises after he explains. We’re going to get out of here. We just need to be patient.

Luka spends most of those hours ignoring Cathalan’s attempts to tell him there’s nothing useful buried in the dirt. He presses against the walls. He tries to summon his beast, wondering if he could claw his way to the top, but when he reaches for his monster, he finds the bond shockingly weak.

“Lovelace,” Xyla says when she sees his surprised look. “Or wolfsbane, as they call it here. I think they buried it in the walls. There’s just enough in the air that it weakens us. I’ve tried to climb to the top.”

“Yes, she has lovely calves,” Cathalan says. He sits on the ground to conserve his energy . Darri perches at his side, looking ready to spring to his feet, his gaze fixed on the metal door.

Luka’s head snaps to Xyla. He raises his brows in a look he knows she will easily read. Is this guy bothering you?

Xyla blinks at him, surprised, and then her cheeks color. She doesn’t shake her head, but instead looks at Cathalan and Darri, and then away again. He wonders how much she has learned from Cathalan since they’ve been thrown into this pit. Does she know Cathalan is the Balivartian king?

Unlikely. For all that Cathalan seems to have told her everything else, that is the one thing he kept from her. The name Cathalan is not unheard of in the south. Xyla wouldn’t be acting so… playfully with a man she thought was the King of Balivartia, no matter the situation.

“I’m fine, Luka,” Xyla says aloud after the silence drags on for too long. Her cheeks are bright red. Cathalan and Darri at least have the decency to pretend not to notice.

An hour into their stay in the pit, food, water, and a bucket – “For peeing!” Cathalan says with far too much cheer – is lowered down. They have to eat and drink quickly, for just as soon as the supplies are offered, they are pulled away. The group is left in darkness and silence once more.

It takes another five hours before the cover at the top of the cell finally creaks away, and blinding fire torch light pours in again.

They squint as a face peers down at them. It’s a different Kiteran soldier than before – this is an older man with a heavy beard.

“Luka Lockehart,” he says, his eyes landing on Luka’s face. “You’re to come with me.”

Luka resists the urge to stare at Cathalan. He’s sure the king is smiling knowingly.

Just as Cathalan said would happen.

Luka stands, and it’s far too easy for him to pretend to stagger to the side, as if weakened.

The guard lowers a ladder, and as Luka moves toward it, Cathalan rises.

“Where are you taking him?” Cathalan says. His voice is the perfectly pitched amount of royal indignation and tightly reined fear.

“None of your concern.”

“You’re wrong,” Cathalan says. “He is my concern.” He raises his palm, revealing a pale white scar that resembles a blazing sun. “That is my consort you are speaking to, as I am Cathalan, third of my name, King of Balivartia, and you have been treating us rather poorly.”

Cathalan and Luka are led in chains by the bearded guard, who cannot disguise the worried way he tugs at his mustache as he glances back at them.

His thoughts are plain on his face. He doesn’t believe Cathalan – but none of that matters. He believes them enough to doubt his Elders’ commands to keep the prisoners in the pit.

“Look none of them in the eyes,” the Kiteran guard orders as he leads them through the streets. Three other guards trail behind, their hands on their blades. No chance to escape, just as Luka predicted – but that doesn’t matter. Now is not the moment they are waiting for.

Night has fallen over the winter capital of the North. The streets gleam with fresh snow, already left in dirtied, scuffed piles, disturbed by the hurrying soldiers’ boots. The blizzard left the world carpeted in white powder, and the moon glares down while Luka’s shuddering exhales cloud the air. He presses his hands into the borrowed Kiteran furs draped over his shoulders, dragging his feet. Buying time by leaning into his inability to catch his breath isn’t part of the plan, but it does give him a moment to breathe, to calm his racing heartbeat.

Cathalan looks at Luka out of the corner of his eye. Just follow my lead, Cathalan's bold gaze says, but Luka raises his brows.

How am I supposed to trust you after your betrayal? Luka presses his thumb against the circular scar on his palm, the mark of his bond to Cathalan. How am I supposed to trust you when I still don’t fully understand what you are? Or when you still haven’t told me how to break this bond between us?

Either Cathalan doesn’t understand Luka’s intense gaze or he is feigning ignorance as he looks away. A strange noise fills the air – a distant… hammering?

But Luka is far too lost in his own thoughts to care –in his desire to seize Cathalan by the shoulders and to shake him.

Unfortunately, now is not the time to pepper Cathalan with questions. Luka didn’t want to press him in front of Xyla – keeping her in the dark felt safer for her, for now at least. Luka doubted that Darri would want Luka sharing any of Cathalan’s secrets, and he wasn’t sure how far Darri would go to keep Cathalan safe.

“What is that?” Cathalan says. The question pierces the silence, loud enough to make Luka flinch at his flippant tone. He recalls all too vividly their path down to the pit and the female Balivartian killed because Darri spoke out of turn.

Cathalan jerks his chin toward a strange platform and the three Kiterans tending to it with fresh wooden planks, replacing old boards with new.

“Execution platform,” replies one of the guards. He adds after a long pause with the slightest of inclines of his head, “Balivartian king.”

Cathalan raises a brow, clearly still confused.

The guard continues, “Sometimes it decays over the winter, but the Elders ordered us to make sure it’s ready to go. It’s needed now that we’re sorting out who exactly is telling the truth –and who is lying.”

“... Ah,” Cathalan says, and even he isn’t able to disguise a flash of alarm.

“No more questions,” orders the man leading the group.

The rest of the walk is made in tense silence.

The guards around them pull to a stop before an enormous building with wooden doors bearing carvings of snarling wolves. The Kiteran female heaves the entrance open, ordering Cathalan and Luka to enter.

Inside, torches flicker from carved columns. Snow pools from their clothing, leaving a damp trail on the stone floor. At the head of the room, half a dozen wizened figures droop in their chairs. The night has been long – judging from the height of the moon outside, it is likely an hour or two past midnight –which explains the burning in Luka’s eyes and the heaviness in his bones.

Focus .

Luka exhales again. Of the six Elders, one woman stands out to him. She has bright eyes and a straight posture, and she sits at the center of the others. It’s at the command of the impossibly subtle flick of her fingers that the guards push Luka and Cathalan closer.

Luka steps forward awkwardly in his too-big boots, slipping in something on the floor –

Theo’s smell hits him first as Luka looks down.

Theo’s smell – and blood.

Terror sinks its teeth into him so quickly, Luka’s vision whites out. He stares at the dark liquid on the stone floor, unseeing.

They hurt Theo.

Where is he?

WHERE IS HE?

The beast howls inside Luka as fur ripples down his arms. Fangs tear from his mouth –

“–are bonded, you see,” Cathalan is saying. “It is the relationship between all First Consorts and their king. I understand if you wish to punish Theodori for his failures, and you think that harming Luka Lockehart will achieve this, but the two of them are not bonded together –not like Luka and I are.”

A narrow faced woman raises her brow. “And you decided to hide your identity from us because…?”

Cathalan laughs. “Obviously I came without my guards and had good reason not to trust you…”

Rage makes Cathalan’s words fall away. It makes it hard for Luka to gloat that Cathalan’s plan is working . Just as they predicted upon learning that Octavian beat them here, the Elders probably already realized Luka is Theo’s mate –which is why their soldiers came to summon Luka.

But none of this registers. None of it can penetrate the rage consuming him. Anger oozes a red haze over the world, and Luka blinks, trying to listen past the roaring in his ears –

“Is he –he’s –the Siacchian is changing! ” one of the Elders shouts, panicked, and the world flies sideways as someone tackles Luka to the ground.

Cathalan grunts as pain explodes in Luka’s ribs. Someone is on top of him –someone is pinning Luka to the stone floor. He snarls, the noise inhuman and terrifying, as fangs close around his neck.

“Stop!” Cathalan shouts. “When you injure him, you injure me, King of Balivartia! Stop – now .”

Somehow, Cathalan’s voice cuts through Luka’s rage –or maybe the thing that cuts through his anger is the burst of pain against his throat. Two paws brace against Luka’s shoulders –a wolf, smaller than Theo, and dark gray.

“See?” Cathalan says. Beyond the thick scent of Luka’s fresh blood and Theo’s old, the stench of the red fluid seeping from Cathalan’s throat fills the air. “I speak the truth.”

“He could have injured himself while we were subduing the Siacchian hopiar ,” mutters one of the male Elders.

“That's easy enough to test, Hessifer,” says the woman in the middle. “Jordiar, bite the Siacchian on his right shoulder.”

As soon as the command leaves her lips, a terrible pain pierces Luka’s arm. He muffles his cry with the floor beneath him –but Cathalan can’t quiet his own pained grunt.

“Proof enough for you?” Cathalan asks. From where the gray wolf stands on Luka’s back, Luka can make out the king raising a bloodied hand from his right shoulder. Cathalan’s face has gone gray from the pain, and red liquid smears his throat and worn robes.

“Balivartian witchcraft,” says the man named Hessifer.

While the Elders hiss at each other in alarm, Cathalan shoots Luka a look of both reprimand and concern. Luka must close his eyes for a moment to bask in his own stupidity. All he had to do was stay silent and demonstrate their bond, but he lost control .

Theo always makes me do such stupid things.

Swiftly, Luka lays out the steps for his brain to sort through; the execution platform they saw upon their entrance, still incomplete. Theo, a man who used to be of high standing in their society, would not be put to death like a common dog.

He is injured, but he still lives.

I can still save him.

But first – the plan.

“Let me up,” Luka says, though the word emerges little more than a rasp only Cathalan can surely hear.

Cathalan relays the request to the Elders, who, scowling, gesture for the Kiteran to release Luka. Luka manages to stand, pressing a hand against the wound in his shoulder to staunch the blood – though it will heal soon enough.

“Fascinating,” says the woman at the center.

“Gilianna,” warns the man to her right. “We cannot injure –”

“No matter,” says the woman at the center, the one named Gilianna. She purses her lips. “Luka Lockhart, we have heard much about you.”

Luka tries to hide the cool shiver of fear that snakes down his back.

“Would you care to explain your loss of control?”

Luka presses his lips together. He meets Gilianna’s gaze only for a second before looking away. The iciness of her stare reminds him so much of Linne Lockehart. It makes his answer catch in his throat –though only for a moment.

“I was afraid,” Luka speaks honestly. “You have taken us prisoner. As a Siacchian, I was never taught to control my beast. In moments of severe emotions, I can… lose control.”

“Yes, that make sense,” says the male Elder –Hessifer. He exchanges looks with the man next to him.

Gilianna spares them both an exasperated glance. Her eyes flicker to the blood at Luka’s feet, and understanding seizes him.

She had been waiting for such a reaction. That is why Theo’s blood is still here, even though, judging from the dried edges of the liquid, it has been hours since Theo was present. Luka failed Gilianna’s first test. He cannot afford to fail another.

Gilianna continues to speak after a beat, her lips curling at the edges, “Ordinarily, we would ask for your truth now, but I feel it is best that we tell you first why we have brought you before us.” She holds each of their gazes for two heartbeats before continuing. “We know there is a spy in our midst. There is someone leaking information to the enemy –how else could the Siacchian rebels avoid our forces so well? Pacifists with weakened hopiar to shield them can only fend us off for so long. We have their capital. The country should have fallen weeks ago.

“No, we know there is a spy. Now, it is a matter of determining who leaked our secrets.”

“Spies are an unfortunate byproduct of an empire,” Cathalan says carefully. “Such is the nature of running a kingdom that has secrets worth stealing.”

Gilianna wets her lips as she leans forward, folding her hands in her lap. “Balivartian King, if that is who you really are, if you are claiming innocence, your arrival is either extremely unlucky, or coincidental, seeing as how we identified the spy so soon after you came.”

Cathalan offers a charming smile that does little to melt the ice of Gilianna’s stare. He opens his mouth, and Luka knows he’s about to declare Octavian the spy, just as they planned. That they would support whatever story Theo told, because Theo undoubtedly told as close to the truth as he possibly could, but Luka has visualized their positions on the Cesse board in his mind. He has looked through the upcoming moves.

And Cathalan’s next words will not help them win.

“Y-you’re right!” Luka shouts. His words awkwardly bounce through the enormous hall.

The entire room turns to look at him. Cathalan glares, his thoughts clear: What are you doing, Luka?

Luka narrows his eyes. Trust me.

Oh, I hope you can trust me.

Luka says, “You’ve already communicated to the townspeople that there is a spy in your midst?”

Gilianna dips her head.

It was a mistake on their part, unless they want to incite fear in their people – unless they want their people to crave bloodshed.

Luka continues, “They will need to see someone dead on that executioner’s platform come morning, then?”

Morning.

That gives us less than six hours.

Again, Gilianna nods.

Luka closes his eyes, as if considering his next actions, as if he is weighing the words on his tongue and deciding if he has the strength to speak them. Gilianna watches him intently.

“I’ve suspected for some time,” Luka finally begins, before pausing again for one, two, three carefully measured seconds. When he is certain the entire room is leaning forward in anticipation, he continues in a low voice, “I’ve suspected for some time that Theodori does not return the same feelings for me that I carry for him.”

Gilianna’s eyes narrow.

“He thought I was his mate – but things never seemed right between us. He never… cared for me as he should. It was only when we arrived here, when I saw Xyla Mobiele again, that I realized his love was not for me, but for the other scent I carried on my skin. Before Theo, I was with another impyassus – another hopiar . And it was her scent that he fell in love with. It was for her that he pledged himself to protect her life and to protect Siacchi. After Octavian discovered this, Theodori sent her north in an attempt to keep her safe. He… he knew people here. He thought they would shelter her. And that woman is the woman you have in captivity – Xyla Mobiele.”

Luka closes his eyes as if these words pain him, but really he does it so he can stop staring at the naked shock on Cathalan’s face.

“You have not one spy, Elders, but two. Xyla Mobiele has been sent here to gather secrets to send back to the Siacchians, and Theo – er, Theodori –is pledged to protect her. The woman herself has told me as much, thinking she could put her trust in me, her childhood friend and lover.” Now, Luka pauses, bracing himself for what he must say next. He opens his eyes, staring directly into Gilianna’s intent gaze.

Luka says, “You must execute them both to prove to your people that Akull’s walls are free of spies –and then you must free myself, and Cathalan, and our people. I was unaware of Theodori’s duplicity –I thought he wanted to protect me and keep me safe, but this whole time, he was playing me. He thought he could gather allies in the south, but after he was captured, he knew he had to rely on me to return to his l-love.”

Luka pauses, afraid if he speaks more, that his shaking voice will betray him. He forces himself to not look at Cathalan, who surely will be gazing at him in shock. But that shock will only feed into the story – why should the King of Balivartia know of such things, after all?

“Interesting,” Gilianna says. Her gaze flickers to Cathalan. “And I suppose you were just played for a fool? Why else would you marry a man who was already in love with another?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Luka watches Cathalan straighten his shoulders. He doesn’t plaster that sly grin on his face, but instead his cheeks flush faint red. He’s… embarrassed? Either that, or a very good actor.

“Things are a bit different in Balivartia,” Cathalan says as he avoids Gilianna’s gaze. “Having multiple lovers isn’t… unheard of.”

“Even for your First Consort? The person who you are apparently… bonded with?” Gilianna’s eyes hone in on the circular scars on Luka’s and Cathalan’s palms.

“Yes,” Cathalan lies. “Even then.”

“And how would you explain this, Luka Lockehart,” Gilianna continues. She looks at her fellow Elders, whose faces are pictures of different stages of shock. Their surprised whispers scattered like birds throughout Luka’s story, and now they sit in silence, trading wide-eyed glances. “That when Theodori was brought here and your name was mentioned–”

“No, when his life was threatened,” cuts in Hessifer.

Gilianna inclines her chin. “When your life was threatened, Luka Lockehart, Theodori lost control of his wolf?”

Luka cannot control his surely audible swallow.

It’s Cathalan who speaks for him. “Xyla Mobiele and Luka shared close feelings,” he says. “The pain of seeing your mate suffer the violent death of their close friend – the pain of losing an old lover – Theodori surely wanted to spare… Xyla… that suffering.”

Cathalan speaks Xyla’s name strangely – as if it is something secret that he wishes to keep from the Elders.

“Do you agree, Luka Lockehart?” Gilianna says.

Luka forces himself to nod.

“I see,” Gilianna looks at her Elders. The fine lines of her face catch the flickering torchlight. “I see.”

After they are led away into the night, still dark, still freezing, Cathalan presses his lips to Luka’s ear, his whisper hot down Luka’s neck. “Sweet Mother, I always forget how clever you are, Luka Lockehart.”

Luka only says, voice cast so low the guards around them can’t hear, “The rest of this plan had better work.”