Page 12 of The King’s Man (The Kingdom of the Krow #3)

~ JANN ~

Either I was growing old, or something about the damp cold of the mists stole more of my energy and strength than the normal chill air.

When we didn’t break out of the fog, before sunset, I chose to push on, assuming we had to be close. But my body complained.

Not about the wriggling, warm woman in my arms. But about the cold and damp everywhere else.

I was weary, and losing hope—perhaps the Shadows of Shade were far more magical than we’d thought. Perhaps they had swallowed Gall and Istral somehow. Perhaps they had turned my head and would keep me hidden endlessly until my wings gave out, and we plummeted from the sky.

The thought sent a jolt of nerves through me that invigorated my efforts.

It had grown dark, only the moon’s glow lighting the fog above and around us, so I had no warning until suddenly we broke through the mists and a tall, rugged mountain peak loomed ahead of us.

“Oh shit!” Diadre cursed as I wheeled right—then left again, because going right would have taken us straight back into the curling fog.

Shit was right. “Where are we?” I asked her grimly, afraid to hear the answer. Fucking cursed Shadows and fucking Fetch magik!

“It’s not so bad—this is the Shade Wall, the mountains that border the Shadows of Shade. It means we turned north while we were flying. But… we’ll have a much shorter trip tomorrow. You can cut virtually due west from here to get to the Palace.”

“Half a day’s ride?”

“Yes.”

I groaned, but reluctantly looked for a place to land. I’d hoped I wouldn’t need to fly tomorrow—my shoulders and spine were going to ache. I was frustrated by the weakness, but didn’t want her to see it.

By the time I found a relatively flat area on which to land, and where we could safely sleep under trees at the edge of the hollow, I was ready to be done with this day.

Once again, I made the fire while Diadre disappeared to find food and I found I was grateful to be out of the mists, just in case she decided to abandon me. But of course, she only showed up a few minutes later with another limp creature in her fist.

As the creature cooked, I was weary and pissed off—and I didn’t even know why. It was easy to misjudge trajectory in the Shadows. I wouldn’t have held that against any Neph. But I was frustrated and tired.

We barely spoke as we ate, and Diadre looked as weary as I felt. Without speaking of it, we both readied for bed as soon as the meal was cleaned up.

It was gratifying that there was no hesitation this time. She laid her bedroll within arm’s reach of mine, though the chances of some Neph stumbling on us up here was negligible.

I groaned with relief when I finally laid down—then caught myself about to reach out for her and pull her close.

Holy, shit. Where had that come from?

But I knew where it came from: I’d spent the day with her in my arms, and now… my chest felt cold. My arms empty.

Hollow.

And that brought back all those fucking questions about what, exactly, existed between us. I plumped my bag that I was using as a pillow, muttering about the cold as I tried to distract myself and find a comfortable way to sleep.

But my mind would not stop.

The mild panic that fluttered in my chest when Jhonas wanted to keep her in camp.

The ease I’d felt holding her for all those hours.

That crackle when she touched my chest, right over my heart.

No.

I couldn’t have a mate. I couldn’t have offspring.

I would die within a few short years—and my mate would either follow me because the bond held her too tightly, or she’d be taken by another Nephilim whether she wanted him or not.

A life of sexual slavery ending in a painful death when the next babe was just too big…

Gah. It didn’t even bear thinking about. My skin itched and I curled my hands under my fur to stop myself reaching for her.

Closing my eyes, I focused on the task at hand, but that only raised thoughts of Melek and Yilan and those looks they exchanged. That yearning connection they shared…

Something deep inside me yawned open.

Woman are more fucking trouble than they’re worth, I thought as I rolled over and turned my back on her.

Thank God I was so exhausted that the sound of her breathing lulled me into sleep. Thank God.

That is, if he was even listening.

Did God listen to the thoughts of a cursed, irredeemable man?

I doubted it.