Page 9

Chapter Eight - Theo

E garara leads the pack with the trio of Theo’s littermates. Theo is grateful to her for acting as their savior and guide – he only dreads what she will want in return. Egarara was never known for her boundless generosity before, and he doubts that she has changed in the past twenty or so years. They move at a rapid clip, and Theo is careful, ensuring Luka doesn’t fall behind. The pace is too quick for conversation, and an hour in, a gray snow clouds the sky.

Cathalan breathes a sigh of relief, and Luka rubs at his too-pink temples. Theo glares at the both of them, hating Cathalan for the pain he has somehow caused Luka, and hating Luka for the secrets he still keeps from Theo–for Luka’s handiwork in Commander Jennison’s execution. The thought of his mentor twists Theo’s stomach like a rag. Even before all of this, Theo suspected Luka was hiding secrets, but he could never have guessed it was something like this. Whatever this – sharing pain with the enemy – is.

Midway, they pause. Theo passes around the wineskin he always keeps attached to his hip. Egarara’s wolves pant as they lap at the snow.

“I’m so sorry, Theo,” Luka whispers as he runs his tongue across dry lips. He presses a hand to his stomach. He managed to return to his human flesh an hour into the run, and his stretched jacket and robes hang from his shoulders, revealing scattered bits of gooseflesh.

“What, in the name of the Mother, was that plan?” Theo grinds out. Luka’s cool blue eyes seek his, but Theo can’t stand to look at his mate. Whenever he does, he finds Commander Jennison’s sad face staring back, always patient, but disappointed in death.

“We thought they needed to come for Xyla,” Luka says. “That’s why we lied and said she was your mate –we were certain we’d have more time to break you out. We figured they’d… they’d execute the two of you together. Xyla said that’s how they kill mated pairs turned traitor. We never thought that someone might take your place.”

Theo presses his lips together, glaring at the sky. Snowflakes melt from his lashes.

“Commander Jennison – was your… mentor?” Luka’s hand alights on Theo’s arm, butterfly-light.

My mentor.

The last man alive who might have thought of me as their child.

A father.

But no, none of these were quite true. Not anymore.

This wasn’t Luka’s fault. This wasn’t even Theo’s fault, for all that it was easiest for Theo to point the finger at himself. Yes, Commander Jennison took the punishment meant for the traitor Theo feared he might be, but that had been Jennison’s decision. Jennison… who was already dying. Jennison had made the choice so that Theo might live. So that Theo might be – happy.

Theo’s lips knotted. A knot grew in his throat. Luka was still waiting for his answer. Who was Jennison?

He was –

“No one,” Theo said, his voice emerging guttural, as if ground through rocks. “He was no one.”

He was our savior.

“Well.” Cathalan claps twice, making Luka flinch. “If he was no one, you should be able to recover quickly enough. You’ve plenty of lives bloodying your hands, after all.”

Their group is silent for a long while. A pup attempts to play with Egarara, but she cows him with her teeth. Luka take the wineskin and empties the contents with a long swallow before finally saying, “What are we going to do? Akull was our last hope for allies against my mo –against Cesscounthe.”

“Octavian turned Akull against us – we can still win back the Elders,” Theo says.

Cathalan laughs. “You can never trust a Kiteran.”

“ I’m Kiteran,” Theo growls.

“Exactly.” Cathalan smiles, bitter. “Never know when you might kill someone’s sister.”

“Enough,” Xyla says. She wipes the back of her mouth with her hand. “We can’t make a plan now – not when the idiot noble himself could burn to death if the sun so much as winks at us. We need to get to shelter.”

“And what – you think these wolves will be able to just lead the way?” Cathalan says.

“Those clearly aren’t ordinary wolves.” Xyla waves a gloved hand at the pack who have all turned to watch them. Egarara narrows her eyes when Xyla gestures in their direction. Xyla slowly lowers her hand.

“They are said to be descended from the first shape changer,” Theo says. “They live longer than humans, and they are very intelligent. And don’t point at her again. It’s rude.”

“Rude,” Cathalan repeats, scoffing.

Theo scowls. “We don’t have time for this. Xyla Mobiele is right. Akull might have sent foot soldiers or sleds after us, so we’d do good to put more space between us. The snow should help cover our tracks some, but not completely. We follow Egarara. I trust her. She is taking us – to safety. There we can discuss our plan.”

And so, with that left completely unsettled, they keep moving – and Theo, despite himself, keeps dragging himself down into the icy waters of memory with every landmark they pass.

Under the blanket of winter, the Kiteran countryside should appear as an unchanging sea of white. But to Theo’s clever eyes, familiar landmarks start to emerge. I didn’t think we would arrive so soon.

There is the snowfall where he made a full return to his human life, after he made his homecoming as one of the few who survived a Wolf-Born childhood. There is the flat hilltop where his mother handed him his first sword, awkward and fumbling in his small human hands.

There is the overlook, the place where he stood after returning from the Balivartian border wars, only to find that his home – so small it is left unnamed, even now – had been burned to the ground.

It isn’t until they’re halfway up the hillside to the overlook that Theo realizes his teeth are chattering. He’s not cold – no, his muscles are warm and slick with sweat. He shrugged off his cloak to wrap around Luka miles back, ignoring his mate’s grateful glance. Ahead of him, Egarara and his packmates, fur now long and thick with adulthood, flicker, as if their forms are caught in a fog of heat.

“Theo?” Luka’s voice is raspy with exhaustion. Theo looks back.

Theo can’t be sure what it is that Luka sees in his face, but he only knows that Luka instantly closes the gap between them. His heart hammers, his feet too heavy to lift. What is happening to him?

“Theo?” Luka says again. “What is it? Talk to me, please.”

Luka lays a hand on Theo’s shoulder. He wears Theo’s gloves. He smells good, like salt and the evergreens in winter and home, and Theo desperately wants to bury his head into the crook of Luka’s neck. He wants to collapse in Luka’s arms, to turn back, to beg him that they go anywhere but there.

Anywhere but here.

Because just over the hillside, Theo knows what will be awaiting them; buildings burned to ash, bones left to freeze in the snow, skulls locked in eerie post-mortem smiles. The crows and vultures will be gone now, flown south years ago, but then – then, when crispy flesh flaked from white femurs and forearms, the birds were thick. The ground was so covered in black feathers, it looked like an old bloody stain on the earth.

Theo almost tells Luka this. He can feel it building in his mouth, rolling like a snowball as memories pack together into a massive numbness that melts on his tongue.

But Theo can’t take solace in his mate’s arms. Not yet. So instead he bites his lip.

Don’t be a coward, hisses a voice in the back of his mind. The voice that drove Theo to lay siege to Cesscounthe all those months before. You can handle this alone.

A louder voice, a gentler voice, whispers, You have nowhere else to go.

You need to face this eventually.

And as Luka wraps his gloved fingers around Theo’s, Theo realizes that there will never be the right moment to go home.

“I’m fine,” he manages to say, and is shocked at how even his voice sounds. He repeats himself, and it’s like the words come to him from far away. “I’m fine. Let’s keep moving. We can’t stay in the open.”

Cathalan and Xyla hover behind Luka; the Siacchian woman all but glares at him with fierce, pine-sap eyes. The Snake of the South looks exhausted, his skin peeling from wounds he has yet to explain.

Wounds that echo on Luka’s own worried face.

Keep moving. You can shake answers out of him once we’re in hiding.

Luka laces his mittened hand into Theo’s (ahead, Leiro yips in amusement and Theo resolutely ignores him), and they continue.

Ten years later, Theo is returning home.

And there it is. Theo’s birthplace. The place he returned to after nearly a decade in the wild. Yes, Egarara was the one to raise him, but she was the mother to his wolf form.

It was here that Theo learned to be human.

And it was here that Cathalan took everything that mattered from him.

Tucked between the rolling hills is a deep-set valley. In the spring, when the snows start to thaw, Theo knows streams will bleed through long, yellow grasses. Spring onions will burst through melting grounds, and once, his people would come here after months in Akull, herding their sheep and goats and horses. They would have dusted off the remaining frost and prepared for the quick but warm summer.

The houses here, near the border, would have been stout and small and made mostly of wood. Easy to build.

Easy to burn.

Not much is left now; though the ashes are impossible to make out through the dense covering of snow, Theo can easily imagine them hidden beneath the drift, seeping through like a bloody handprint –the land itself refusing to let those who return to forget the lives lost. Theo’s house has vanished beneath the snow. There used to be seven other structures – seven other families – next to his parents’ home. Only two houses remain; and only one has a fully functional roof. The fences that kept livestock at bay jut from the land like fingers bursting from a grave.

Theo almost laughs at himself; there isn’t anything left here to grieve over. Not anymore.

He considers glancing at Cathalan, wondering if he’ll see recognition on the man’s face. But he stops himself before he does. He isn’t sure what he’ll do if he sees either ignorance or understanding in the man’s eyes, but he does know he won’t be able to control his rage at either reaction.

Luka’s hand tightens around Theo’s. There is no warmth conveyed, not through the thick wool of his mittens, only pressure.

Theo glances at his mate, and he’s startled to see tears sparkling in Luka’s eyes.

“What is it?” Theo asks.

Luka shakes his head. “I’m not –it’s not me –” He casts a sidelong glance at Cathalan, but pauses when his eyes skate over Theo. “What’s this?” He rests his hand on Theo’s cheek.

Theo does the same, and is even more shocked to find his face damp. The tears freeze around his eyelashes, making blinking difficult.

Self-disgust coils in him like a snake, but he seizes it by the neck before it manages to strike. Quietly, Theo says, “I’ll tell you tonight.” He squeezes Luka’s hand in return.

As they stumble down the hillside, Xyla turns to Cathalan.

“Why do you look like you’ve just eaten a lemon?” Xyla says. The gray afternoon light catches on the new sharpness of her cheekbones.

Cathalan doesn’t break his stride, but his face contorts. Xyla’s statement is accurate: he looks stricken.

Theo immediately looks away as Luka’s grip on his hand tightens.

Theo’s first steps on the ground of the town that used to be his home are faltering. He only continues into the heart of the town – erased now by time and snow – because of Luka’s steady presence at his side.

Egarara pauses at what used to be the village square. She lifts her head as she surveys the land. Theo wonders if she can see past the ruins to what his home used to look like. She looks at Theo’s childhood packmates, and jerks her head.

Leiro yips and circles back to Theo. He lunges, mockingly, and then butts his furred head against Theo’s side. Theo braces himself just in time, managing to keep the enormous wolf from knocking him to the ground.

Elliara and Meelo circle him, eyes twinkling with merriment. Theo can’t help a smile at the sight of them, even with his old tears still dried to his cheeks.

“Thank you for your help,” Theo says as Egarara comes to stand before him. “I’m glad we had one last chance to meet, Egarara, Leiro, Elliara, Meelo.”

“Do they understand all you say?” Luka whispers from his side.

“They understand the meaning loosely.” Theo gently lowers Luka’s head. “Just don’t look her directly in the eyes. You smell like a hopiar. You’re expected to follow our rules.”

Egarara rumbles her approval, and an unexpected flash of warmth toward her fills Theo. He guides Luka by his hand toward her.

“You have undoubtedly saved our lives, Egarara,” Theo says. “And I am grateful I have the chance to introduce you all to my mate – to Luka Lockehart.”

Luka awkwardly averts his gaze to keep himself from looking the enormous black wolf in the eye. In turn, Egarara – the foster mother of Theo’s youth – looks Luka over. Her lips pull upwards in a mockery of a human smile, though she reveals no teeth. Her exhale gusts over Luka’s face while she breathes him in.

It’s in that moment that the realization that Theo has come home hits – home, here to the place of his greatest defeat, the place where he wasn’t able to keep his loved ones safe – with the most precious thing in his life. And now he is introducing that precious thing – precious person – to the last living being that resembles a parent.

Wolf-Mother, Theo curses as his eyes again sting with tears. He blinks them away furiously as Luka, oblivious to Theo’s sappiness, attempts to introduce himself to Egarara. Luka awkwardly raises his hand and offers shaking fingers to her flared nostrils.

Behind Egarara, Leiro and Elliara jostle each other, wide, toothy wolf-grins bared on their faces. Expressions that would inspire terror in any other.

“We’re in your debt,” Xyla says after the exchange drags on in silence. Theo and Luka both jump. It was as if Xyla and Cathalan disappeared from their periphery. Now they return in sharp clarity: Cathalan, pressed against Xyla’s side, expression frozen in an awkward place between amusement and fear, and Xyla practically vibrating with impatience.

Egarara glances at Xyla out of the corner of her eye, and her lips curl again – it’s a shockingly human expression of humor. She lowers her head in a single, slow nod, before she looks at Theo’s packmates. She doesn’t bother with a farewell; they will either see each other again or they won’t.

“I’ll tell you, Wolf-Prince, so long as you promise to keep it secret from everyone else,” Cathalan stage whispers after the wolves have cleared the steep, snowy hillside. “Those wolves scare the shit out of me.”

“Why didn’t you use them in the war against the south?” Xyla asks.

Theo’s attention snaps to her. Xyla’s voice is even and she doesn’t flinch beneath Theo’s sudden attention.

Theo says, “Because they always ask for something in return, and those asks are never humble.”

“Ah,” Luka whispers. “So, I guess we’ll have to pay up.”

“One day,” Theo says. “One of us will have to, yes, but that moment isn’t now. Come. I’ll check the stores for food while you three prepare the shelter.”

The storage shed is, surprisingly, not completely empty. Buried beneath the earth are old root vegetables, and Theo is surprised to find them fresh enough to eat; someone lived here last summer. Hopefully that means the shelter will be strong enough to keep out the winter storms that are sure to come.

Being a day and a half farther south means the knife of winter has been dulled, but only slightly. Now that they’re no longer moving at speed, Theo shivers as he leaves the storage shed, arms heaped with vegetables and sacks of dried beans. They only have a few hours of daylight left.

He somehow manages to walk past the shelter that once was his home. Manages not to look at the shape of it; buried beneath the snow like that, he wonders if it would look like the splayed limbs of a lifeless body – or if it would be simply a mound, like a grave.

He can’t keep himself from glancing up the hillside, opposite of where they entered. Though the snow has wiped away all memory of the place where he laid the ruins of his parents’ bodies to rest, his hands recall the stinging pain of clawing through frozen earth. He clenches his fists and forces himself to move.

Inside the last remaining structure, Xyla has patched the wall with a moth-eaten cloak and found some only slightly moldy clothes. Luka and Cathalan gather close around the fire. They struggle to light it the entire time Theo is gone – judging by the sounds of their bickering – until Xyla takes on the task herself and completes it in minutes.

“I found a pot we can use,” Xyla says when Theo enters with the food.

“Thank the Lady,” Cathalan says. “It would be so wonderful to have something warm.”

“Will we be safe here?” Xyla asks. She looks at Theo when she speaks. “Is this a place that your people can easily find?”

“Our tracks will be covered by the recent snow,” Luka says, warming his hands over the fire. “And this village looks like it hasn’t been occupied in…” He trails off, his eyes suddenly bright with understanding that makes Theo shift uncomfortably.

Theo waits until after they prepared the food and water – until they’ve settled in a tight circle around the fire, huddling close as the final rays of daylight fade, before he says, “Now tell me what the fuck is going on.”

He hates the look exchanged between Luka and Cathalan. A kind of knowing glance – a question clearly shared by their gaze alone.

“No,” Theo all but spits. “None of that. Don’t you look at my mate like that any more, whatever you are.” He glares at Cathalan. The man holds his gaze evenly, though the sharp lines of his jaw tighten. “Tell me what’s going on. Now .”

Xyla chews through a half-cooked carrot, her bites punctuating the silence like fists. She looks between the three of them before shoving a steaming onion into her face. “I would like to know as well, King of Balivartia ,” she says, and, to Theo’s surprise, Cathalan flinches.

“I don’t understand why you’re so irritated about having not realized I am a king –” Cathalan started, smoothly, only for Xyla to snap, “You knew full well you were keeping me in the dark! The name Cathalan is common enough. And the Kiteran is right. You haven’t only hidden who you are, but what you are.”

Cathalan presses his lips together. “You must know we’re called demon princes for a reason.” When none react favorably to his offered grin, he adds in a more serious voice, “In Balivartia, in Alimaris, that is, we are called hushilings .” The word rolls off his tongue in his wide southern dialect.

“And how in the name of the Wolf Mother’s sweet tits have you, a hushiling, managed to bind yourself to Luka?” Theo says, his thoughts sprinting. Hushiling – have I heard that word before?

But no, even with all of Theo’s research about how to defeat the Balivartians, he is certain he never came across the term.

“A shadow creature.” Cathalan stirs the vegetables in the pot, not looking at any of them. “Similar to a hopiar –”

Theo snarls, “ Do not make that comparison –”

Xyla shoots him a look. “Luka,” she says around her food. “Quiet your man. And you, idiot noble – or I suppose I should call you idiot king? – stop antagonizing him. We are allies. Get through this quickly now. I have planning to get to after this, and we don’t have all night.”

All three men stare at her as she resumes her chewing. Luka places a hand on Theo’s thigh. The touch is warm –distracting –comforting in a way Theo almost wants to push away, because now is a time for focus.

Cathalan offers a long-suffering sigh, though his shoulders are too tight to make the noise anything but theater. “ Hushilings –we are stronger and faster than a human. We wear human flesh, but we cannot stand sunlight. Exposed for too long…” He gestures to his skin.

“Yes, yes.” Theo waves his hand. “I’ve figured as much –”

“He also drinks blood,” Luka says.

Theo’s nostrils flare.

“That, too,” Cathalan says. “Though we don’t need it as often. I can survive on… this.” He scowls at the food in the pot before chewing through a parsnip with such blatant misery, Theo can’t help but grin –though he smothers the expression swiftly.

“That doesn’t explain why Luka is also suffering from your malady,” Theo says.

“Well, Luka,” Cathalan says. “Sweetling,” he adds the endearment, looking at Theo as if to wield the word like a weapon. “I think this would be best if it came from you.”

“Our marriage is real. I had to do it to keep him safe,” Luka blurts, color draining from his face. He presses so hard against the circular scar on his palm, Theo almost moves to steady him. “I knew that we needed… leverage. With Cathalan, I could save you –I could save… Cassian.” He whispers his brother’s name like a prayer, and guilt needles Theo. He let himself forget what else was on the line for Luka –more than just their lives are at stake.

Marry him , echoes through his thoughts, and he considers, for the first time, what it must have entailed to seal the bond of First Consort. This title was not created through some simple ruse. It was real. Legally binding. Magically binding. And how was such a thing sealed?

Images of Luka, naked but for silk sheets, splayed on Cathalan’s surely grand and kingly bed while Theo’s greatest enemy enjoys his mate’s skin flash through his thoughts. Equal parts rage – and, oddly, lust – tighten Theo’s trousers.

Luka wets his lips. He stares at Theo like they are the only two in this little hut, crouched in the remains of Theo’s home. His left arm is so close to Theo’s that his skin brushes against him with each inhale. Stale fear and fresh woodsmoke cling to the ashy rafters of the building as quiet hail plinks against the thick cover of snow overhead.

“Stop that,” Xyla says. “You know we’re here too, right?”

Luka shakes his head, breaking the spell between them. “There is… apparently… a marriage bond between the First Consort and the King of Balivartia.” Luka holds out his palm. Theo cannot contain a growl at the sight of the wound – especially now that he is all too aware that the source of it, the source of Luka’s current pain, is sitting directly across from him.

Luka says, “Please, stay quiet, Theo. This is hard.” He looks at Xyla and Cathalan out of the corner of his eye as if to imply things would be easier without their eavesdropping, but he says nothing and the two remain.

“The bond means that whatever pain Cathalan experiences, I experience. Whatever suffering I undergo,” at this, Luka presses his cooking knife against the white skin of his wrist, drawing beads of blood to the surface despite Theo’s warning grunt, “Cathalan undergoes it as well.”

Theatrically, Cathalan waits until all eyes are on him before he draws back his cloak to reveal the same wound on his own arm.

Both cuts heal quickly.

“And you were unaware this would happen?” Theo barely recognizes his own voice, so booming and rough.

Luka’s shoulders tense. He slowly nods.

“Cathalan,” Theo rasps. “How do I reverse this?”

“What? So you can strangle me with your own hands?” Cathalan shakes his head. Despite the lightness in his voice, his face is wiped clean of amusement. “It can be undone, but I will not share that information with you.”

When Theo’s head snaps toward Luka, Cathalan adds, “Nor does Luka know how to undo it, so there’s no point in glaring at him like that.”

“Why did you not tell me sooner?” Theo snaps at Luka.

Luka spreads his hands. “When did we have the time to do that? And it’s not like you don’t keep things from me, Theo!”

Theo’s face warms. Though he’s almost certain Luka is referring to how Theo hid their mate bond, he can’t help but to glance at Cathalan. He can’t help but to wonder if in Luka and Cathalan’s brief imprisonment together, if Cathalan told Luka how Theo promised he would help Cathalan take Cesscounthe in return for Luka’s safety.

Damn that snake. He had played Luka and Theo like a game of Ravage.

But Cathalan isn’t looking at Theo; he’s watching Luka. “We all do what we must to survive, Theodori,” Cathalan whispers as he takes a long drink from the wineskin filled with now-melted snow. “I knew I could never hold you to your word. And now, your promises have weight.”

Chills erupt on Theo’s arms at the cold intent in the Balivartian king’s words.

“Are you all finished?” Xyla asks, running a hand through her red curls. “Because we don’t have time for you to have petty disputes all night –we need to plan our next move.”

Luka’s eyes linger on Theo as if he wants to say more, but Xyla is already speaking. She locks her shaking fingers together. “I’ve been working with the Toula and her people to help impyassi children escape Cesscounthe. Linne Lockhart has used her new position as the head of the Council to put impyassi to death if they fail the Bombani Exam – and she is trying to do the same to those who have failed the pre-tests.”

Luka gasps. Theo can’t contain his flinch. Cathalan watches Xyla through the fire with an unblinking gaze.

“We’ve smuggled dozens of children to the outskirts of Siacchi, but this can’t go on. Linne is planning something after the upcoming Bombani Exam this spring –in two months time. Impyassi in Cesscounthe won’t be the only at risk; Linne has been spreading poisonous propaganda. There have been some that attempted to cross the northern border, fleeing her spewed hatred, but…” She presses her lips together. “All were killed by the Kiterans. They were thought to be spies.”

Luka’s face drains of color. “How did you manage to stay hidden for so long, Xyla?”

“Other impyassi don’t wear their furs as proudly as I do. And all those sessions practicing the Kiteran dialect together –they paid off. I might have been able to stay hidden until you arrived if it wasn’t for this idiot noble over here.” She meets Cathalan’s gaze through the flames, and it might have been the red from the fire, but her face looks to flush. “Well, that –that and Octavian.”

Cathalan shrugs helplessly. “How was I supposed to know not to draw attention to you? Everyone deserved to know of your resounding beauty. I just thought it would be better to… announce it.”

“And that’s why you’re the idiot noble.”

“And here I thought you were just calling that because you like me, my sweet melody.”

“Like you? I could never –”

“Have you heard anything about Cassian, Xyla?” Luka cuts in, voice urgent.

“This isn’t just about Cassian, Luka,” Xyla says. “ Our people are dying. Cassian will be at risk, but imagine how many other brothers, sisters –children, parents – will suffer at your mother’s hand.”

Luka’s face reddens. “I know that –”

“But do you? Have you really thought about the damage your mother will cause?” Xyla presses. “You know how cruel she can be, especially toward impyassi . She doesn’t seem satisfied as a Council Member –she wants more –more power . To return the Lockehart name to what it once was.”

Luka’s face goes pale. “The Lockehart name,” he repeats the words like a curse.

“Yes, and she will step on whomever gets in her way –or whatever , as she would say. She doesn’t see us as people , Luka. Animals are treated better in Cesscounthe now than impyassi .”

“But Cassian hasn’t taken the Bombani Exam yet, has he? He hasn’t… he hasn’t shown any signs?”

Xyla closes her eyes. She’s silent for a long time –so long, Cathalan nudges her leg with his own. She doesn’t look at any of them when she speaks, her words cold, “Luka, I know you’re scared, but see past Cassian –we can save him, too –but everyone in Cesscounthe is suffering because of Linne. This cannot last .”

“So, you are with the rebels my spies have been telling me so much about,” Cathalan says after a long silence.

“Rebels?” Luka echoes.

Cathalan waves his hand. “Of course there are rebels. There are plenty who want to resist Linne’s new rule. Look at this one –she left before they fully established themselves, but she’s still proud to call herself a rebel, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Xyla says impatiently, before a strange understanding dawns on her face. “But that doesn’t mean –”

Cathalan grins. “I believe that means you owe me a –”

“I owe you nothing , idiot noble.” Xyla shoves his knee away, which only sends her closer to Luka, who pushes in tighter to Theo. Theo has no problem with any of this.

“If you refuse to help me, Luka,” Xyla says. “I will return to Cesscounthe alone. If we can’t save the capitol, I will at least try to save the people.”

“What do you think I can do?” Luka gapes at her.

Xyla looks at Theo under hooded eyes. “I think you have powerful connections.”

“We were just run out of Akull!” Luka cries. “You think we can just go crawling back and ask for the same thing we got thrown into prison for?”

“We were caught unaware the first time,” Xyla says. “We didn’t expect Octavian – and Octavian was ready for the idiot noble’s arrival. He had a plan. They won’t expect us to return –”

“Because we’d have to be idiots to go back,” Theo says.

Xyla throws her hands in the air. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes shine too bright in the firelight. “Fine!” she says, climbing to her feet. She levels a shaking finger at Luka. “I don’t need your help.” The finger jerks to Cathalan. “And I certainly don’t need yours. I’ll go back myself. I was able to get into Akull and find those who might be sympathetic to my cause, I’m sure I can get back into Cesscounthe –”

“You’d go alone?” Cathalan says. He watches Xyla carefully, no trace of mirth on his face.

“I don’t care if I have to go naked –”

“–you’d go without letting me pay my dues?” Cathalan says.

“Dues?” Luka looks between them, only to be ignored.

Xyla glares at Cathalan, her eyes sparking with the amber fury of her beast. “Now is not the time –”

“Balivartian kings do not allow their debts to go unpaid, no matter how small.” Cathalan stands as well. He’s far taller than Xyla, and she has to crane her head up to look at him –or at least she would, if the stooping roof didn’t force the king to slouch. As it is, their noses are so close, they nearly brush.

Theo feels oddly embarrassed for them, watching this showdown, though he quickly forgets the sensation when Luka nuzzles closer to his chest, likely seeking warmth.

“No,” Cathalan continues. “We protect our debtors –where would a kingdom be, if we made promises we never intended to uphold? You promised to keep me safe, Xyla- hessa . Let me return the favor.”

Xyla looks about ready to rip out his throat when Cathalan says, “You can have my legion –and any of my soldiers Luka and Theo free from Akull. Several of my riders wait at the base of the mountain to the south. They will carry word to the border to seek reinforcements.”

Hail plinks against the roof. It is the only noise in the abrupt silence.

“What?” Luka squeaks.

“Are you serious?” Xyla says, the rage vanished from her face.

“Unfortunately.” Cathalan holds her gaze. “Once a king has offered his word, it cannot be retracted.”

“But – but –” Xyla stammers.

Cathalan says, looking at Luka and Theo, “So long as those two return to Akull to free Darri and my men, yes, Xyla Mobiele, I will lend you my soldiers to free Cesscounthe from this tyrant.” Cathalan catches Theo’s eye, and Theo’s stomach lurches.

You sly snake.

What better way to take the capitol of Cesscounthe than under the guise of dethroning a rotten ruler?

“I still don’t like the idea of returning to Akull,” Luka says.

But Cathalan isn’t looking at Luka. He’s looking at Theo, and his gaze clearly conveys his thoughts, Remember your promise.

Luka, in exchange for Cesscounthe.

As Xyla manages a hushed thank you to Cathalan, Theo says, his arms tightening around Luka, “Tomorrow we must discuss our strategy to return to Akull, Luka. It seems the best course of action for now,” and though guilt twists in Theo’s stomach and his mate glances at him in confusion, no protests emerge.

As they curl into sleep that night, Luka pressed against Theo, so warm and so soft, it’s all Theo can do to keep his hands at his sides, the truth weighs on Theo.

It would be as simple as breaking his promise to Cathalan –but how could he? They are married , Theo thinks, looking between the Snake of the South and the person more dear than his heart. How am I to protect my worst enemy and my lover, as their lives are intertwined?

No. Theo cannot worry about this. He has to go along with this plan.

For now.