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Chapter Thirty-Nine

T horne

The old general, her face weathered with age and too many battles to count, walks along the line, inspecting each one of us in turn.

She reaches me at the end and nods.

“You did good today, real good. Now go back, get cleaned up and heal yourselves. We’ll be back out here again for night exercises. And then I think it’s about time we got you back to the academy. You’ll be starting the journey back the day after tomorrow.” She salutes. “Dismissed.”

I lift my bare hand to my forehead and salute in return, just like all the other shadow weavers from the academy lined up alongside me.

It’s only with this movement, I feel the slight tremble in my arm .

Adrenaline, anger and fear pulsate through my body, my shadow magic roars in my ears and I’m dizzy and sick.

As the general walks away, I lower my arm and stare down at my hand, flexing and curling my fingers. Around me the others are talking excitedly about the prospect of returning to the academy.

I spit on the ground, then pull my gloves from my belt and slip them back over my hands.

At once that feeling of suffocation, of imprisonment, encases me. I close my eyes.

“Fuck me, we did more than good today, boys.” I open my eyes to find Dray slapping the shoulder of my other bond brother. They are both waiting for me, standing a couple of meters away.

“Thorne, you were awesome,” Dray continues, “the way you sliced the head off that demon’s shoulders. Oh man, it was fucking incredible.”

He may be impressed, smiling at me even, but he makes no attempt to move closer. He does not slap me on the shoulder. He’s been more wary of me since the full moon. Keeping his distance, careful not to come too close.

And suddenly an intense weariness overtakes me.

It’s nothing but destruction. Pain, violence, death.

No softness, no affection, no touch.

What I would give for one squeeze of my shoulder, one slap on my back, one hug.

It is so exhausting.

So lonely.

Is it worth it, this existence?

“What’s wrong?” Beaufort says and I wonder if for once, I’ve betrayed my emotions on my face.

“Nothing,” I say, “just tired.”

I start trudging in the direction of the barracks. The other two follow after me. I can hear Dray garbling on behind me, his excitable words carrying across the distance.

“Three days and we’re back at the academy. Never thought I’d be in a hurry to return to that shithole, but fuck me, I can’t wait to get my hands on that little thrall. I miss her scent, and her soaking wet pussy.”

I pick up my pace. I don’t need to hear this. I don’t need to be reminded of all the things I’m missing. Of all the things I want and can’t have.

Fate is cruel and twisted and sick.

Why give me the thing I want most? The thing I can never have? Why tease me with it?

I glower down at my hands – my damn hands, balling them into fists. The hem of my gloves ride up my wrists as I do and I spy it.

I halt dead in my tracks.

Behind me, my bond brothers stop too.

“What now, man?” Dray asks, bouncing on his toes.

“My wrists,” I say, staring at them in disbelief. Am I imagining this? There’s blood and mud splattered across my face. I can taste it. Black spots dance in front of my eyes. Are these the aftereffects of battle? Am I hallucinating?

I rub my gloved fingers over my wrists to see if the faint marks will rub away. They don’t, although they fade a little as I pull the skin taut.

“Are you hurt?” Beaufort asks.

I drag my gaze from my wrist and to my two bond brothers, staring at them open-mouthed. Then I thrust my hands forward.

Dray leaps behind Beaufort. Then, seeing I’m not about to attack him, shakes his body out.

“Shit, man. ”

Beaufort studies my face and then my wrists. His silver eyes widen with wonderment.

“I was fucking right,” he says, yanking back his own sleeves, examining the skin, rubbing his fingers against his flesh aggressively. “Nothing,” he hisses. “What the fuck?”

“Dray?” I ask.

He rolls up his sleeve. “Nothing,” he says with obvious disappointment. “In the vision,” he asks Beaufort, “did we all have–”

“Yes,” he snarls. “It was all of us. She belongs to us all.”

I gaze down at my wrist. Then why me? Why would I be the first one to show the fated mate sign? The one fated mate who can not touch her.

I drop my hand back down to my side and trudge back to the barracks.

Dray is rambling on again.

“This means you were right.”

“Of course, I’m fucking right,” Beaufort says. “The visions have never been wrong. And I know what I saw. Did you actually doubt me?”

Dray chuckles. “Of course, I fucking doubted you, Beau. She’s from Slate. She has no powers, no influence, no money and no friends. She isn’t the girl I imagined would be our mate.”

“ It is not for us to question the designs of fate ,” Beaufort says, quoting the old saying.

“Yeah, and anyway, the first time I fucking caught her scent, I knew you were right.” I can hear him bouncing on his toes. “Maybe all fate wants for us is to make a hell of a lot of babies with her. Fuck,” he shakes out his body again, “I want to pump her full of my seed.”

“Seriously, this shit again?” Beaufort says. “The full moon was three and a half weeks ago. ”

“You don’t find that hot?”

“What, diapers and screaming and sleepless nights? No, that is not fucking hot. Not at all.”

Dray’s silent after that and we’re all lost in our thoughts.

I’m with Beaufort. Why would I want a kid I couldn’t even hold in my arms?

Fate has other plans for us, I’m certain of that. The stone, the dragon, the girl. They must mean something.

Then again maybe fate is a fickle bitch who wants to make our lives as difficult as possible.

Because I can’t imagine either Dray or Beaufort’s families will welcome our mate with open arms.

Especially Beaufort’s.