Page 17

Chapter

Seventeen

The sky is growing bright with brilliant orange and yellow hues as I step back into camp.

Now the fire’s glowing embers have died, and the sun casts long shadows that stretch between the ruined pillars.

My boots barely make a sound as I cross the stone, careful not to disturb dirt and pebbles along the way.

Harek stirs before I even reach my bedroll. His breathing is too shallow for sleep, but he doesn’t open his eyes.

As I slip quietly beneath my blanket, his attention wraps around me like a tether. I pull the blanket up to my chin. My heart still beats faster than it should from the memory of Lys’s voice, his closeness, his certainty. The things he said burrow beneath my skin.

Though I close my eyes, I don’t sleep.

After a few minutes, Harek’s voice breaks the silence. “Where did you go?”

I don’t open my eyes. “I needed air.”

The silence between us says everything our words don’t, and it feels heavier than if we did speak. I try to think of something to say to diffuse the tension, but instead I succumb to overdue sleep.

When I wake, it’s already midday. The air inside the ruined courtyard feels thin, stretched tight like a drum. Harek is nowhere in sight.

Einar stands across from me, his stance steady, his expression unreadable. The cracked stone beneath our feet glints where the old mosaic peeks through layers of dirt. “Time to train.”

“Here?” I rub my eyes and sit up.

“Yes. We can’t have you losing the skills you’ve built.”

“But I haven’t eaten yet.”

My father’s brows knit together. “You didn’t have anything last night?”

Does everyone know I shifted and went for a run?

“Fine.” I get up, stretch, then grab my sword and shield. “Let’s do this.”

We go at it, and he pushes me harder than ever before.

When I stop to rest, he lunges for me. “Again. No stopping.”

Gasping, I launch forward, my blade slicing the air between us. He counters easily, knocking my sword aside with the flat of his own. My muscles burn from something coiled tight beneath my skin.

The wolf. It’s closer to the surface today.

My vision sharpens unnaturally, every fleck of dust suspended midair, every heartbeat echoing louder than it should. My hearing homes in on distant creaks in the stone, the quiet flick of my father’s breath before each strike.

I can smell the shift. Anticipate the weakness. I force the thoughts back, but they keep slipping in—primal, instinctive.

“Your footwork’s aggressive today.” Einar circles me. “You’re leading with force, not precision.”

“I’m adapting.”

“Or reacting.”

I strike again, harder this time. Our blades spark where they clash, and for a moment I want to push harder, to overpower, to win.

The wolf wants dominance. My pulse hammers in my throat.

Einar’s eyes narrow slightly. “You feel it.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re trying to cage it again.” He strikes.

I move out of the way. “What choice do I have?”

He steps back, lowering his sword. His gaze sharpens. “You need control, not denial. The more you suppress it, the more power it steals from you.”

I clench my jaw, fighting the frustrated heat rising in my chest. “Have you been talking to Lys?”

That gets his attention. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t deflect.”

I groan.

“What makes you think I’ve been talking to him?”

“Never mind.”

Einar leans his sword into the dirt and studies me. “Did you talk to him?”

Harek appears at the edge of my vision and watches from a distance, seated on a low stone wall. He’s been there the entire time—observing, analyzing. I feel his stare as much as Einar’s words.

They’re both afraid for me.

I exhale through my teeth, lowering my blade also. “We’re done for today.”

Einar doesn’t argue, but he doesn’t move either. “You can’t keep secrets if you want me to be able to help you.”

“I’m the Secret Keeper! What else do you expect?”

He draws a deep breath. “We’re on the same team, Eira. You’ve been at this for only a few months, where I’ve spent most of my 150 years as the hunter. Before I came into my powers, I learned from my father when he was the hunter. Trust me, pulling back won’t do you any good.”

“You said something that Lys did. That’s all.”

“If there’s more, you can tell me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Neither he nor Harek looks away as I stride toward the far edge of the courtyard, my breath still too fast, my body humming like a live wire under my skin.

Night falls too quickly, probably because I slept so late. The ruins feel smaller and more dangerous in the dark. Fog curls low against the ground like fingers reaching for my boots, and the air hums again with the same unnatural vibration that’s followed me since we entered Courtsview.

I sit near the dying fire, trying to steady my breathing, but it’s not working. Heartbeat too fast, breaths too shallow. Every sound too sharp.

Harek and Einar stand nearby, discussing strategy and next steps, but their words blur. My mind is hyper-focused on the rhythm of my own pulse.

The wolf stirs again, and not gently. Pushing. My skin itches, my muscles tense. A sharp pang flares along my shoulder blades, and I clench my jaw as the tremor spreads down my spine.

No. Not now.

I press my hands flat to the cold stone, trying to anchor myself. The world narrows. Sounds layer over each other—shuffling boots, crackling ward-stones in the walls, distant creaks of ruined towers groaning in the wind.

Too much, too close, too loud. A growl rumbles low in my throat before I can stop it. My fingers curl, nails lengthening slightly. The edges of my vision darken and sharpen all at once. Colors twist. Scents bloom sharper and richer than they should.

“Eira?” Harek’s voice slices through the haze. He’s closer now, moving toward me carefully like he would toward a wounded animal.

“Stay back,” I whisper, though my voice comes out too rough.

His steps slowly but doesn’t stop.

“It’s all right. You’re safe.”

“No,” I grit, trembling. “I’m losing it.”

The wolf pushes harder against my skin, desperate to take control. To run, fight, and feel free.

Harek’s voice stays even. “You’re not lost. You’re here with me.”

I shake my head violently, heat building in my chest, my jaw, my bones…

Warm, calloused hands close gently around my wrists. His touch is grounding. His hands are warm, firm but gentle, as they wrap around my wrists. His thumbs press lightly against my pulse points—steady, rhythmic. “Breathe with me. You’ve got this.”

I should pull away, but my body listens to him before my mind can resist. It’s like his wolf is connecting with mine. Maybe it is. I draw in a ragged breath, matching his. In, out. Repeat.

“You’re stronger than the wolf, Eira.”

The edges of my vision pulsate, the sharpness slowly dulling as the world begins to soften again, and the growl in my throat fades. My nails retract, aching beneath the skin as they shrink back. The heat simmering inside me cools, slowly releasing its grip.

My shoulders sag forward. My forehead almost touches his chest before I catch myself. I freeze, realizing how close we are.

Harek doesn’t move. His hands stay, not restraining, but holding. “You don’t have to fight this alone. You never did.”

His words settle into my chest like a weight—not heavy, but undeniable. For a moment, I want nothing more than to let myself sink into that safety. Into him.

But then the guilt rises. The memory of Lys’s voice. His offer given with certainty. And my own weakness in wanting to hear more.

I stiffen, straighten. The distance between Harek and me returns in a breath. I pull my hands free. “I’m fine now.”

Harek watches me for a moment—his eyes still full of concern, but also hurt and frustration. “Stop saying that.”

I don’t respond. Instead, I turn away, needing space I can’t explain. Needing distance from him, from myself, and from everything.

Harek mumbles something I can’t make out.

Part of me wants to turn and make everything better. But I can’t do that. Not with so much on the line. If he follows me on this path I have to take, he could get hurt.

Or worse.

I can’t risk anything happening to the one person who means more to me than anyone else.

So I walk away from the firelight, slipping between the half-broken pillars. The ruins seem to sigh around me, heavy with ancient weight.

I don’t look back but feel his eyes on me. Not angry or blaming. Just waiting, like he always does.

That’s what terrifies me most.

Because I don’t know how long I can keep asking him to wait while I drift further into something I can’t see. Something I may not be able to stop.

Behind me, Harek exhales. He doesn’t follow.

And I hate how much that relieves me.