Page 32 of The Princesses of Ruin (The Princesses of Ruin #5)

Chapter thirty

Adrik

P ride swells in my chest as I wake with Emillia in my arms. We smell of pine smoke and leather, a scent that will always remind me of the time she was mine.

All mine.

I understand now why they crave their women so fiercely.

I can sense the need in the pit of my stomach to provide for her, protect her—in my own way—and be everything she needs.

To fill in all the gaps of her experience with my own and make us mesh together like a perfect potion.

We’re just the right ingredients merging to make something essential.

She groans, rocking her hips against my leg in her sleep.

I want to hold her tighter, but I fear waking her. I want to stay suspended in this moment for as long as I can.

Another few breaths and I can feel her rousing.

“Adrik,” she murmurs as she blinks up at me. “How long have you been awake?”

I place a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Not long.”

She chuckles. “Did you know I can see when you lie? The color of your voice changes.”

Emillia has never described her magus ability in detail, but the way she’s talked about sounds as if they were physical things, it makes sense that she can actually see them.

“What color?” I ask.

“You’re normally pure silvery white, but when you lie, it turns a bit gray.”

I don’t particularly like that I can never lie to her.

“What’s that face?” she asks.

I’m frowning, apparently. “Nothing.”

She sits up, holding my hand down against the bedroll. “That was very dark gray, sir.”

Better I just get it out then. “I don’t want you to know when I’m being deceitful. There are some things I would like to keep a secret from you.”

Her eyes narrow and her posture stiffens. “Like?”

I roll my eyes. “Like, does this dress look good on me, Adrik? What if it doesn’t! I can’t tell you that, and I can’t lie either…it would be a mess.”

Her face cracks into a huge smile and she laughs from the pit of her stomach.

I cross one of my arms since the other is pinned to the bed. “Oh, I’m so glad you can laugh at my future misfortune…”

She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye and calms. “Adrik…you’re too sweet.”

“Not sweet enough to escape the repercussions of such a truth,” I say.

“So sweet you’re going to rot my teeth right out.” She leans down for a kiss and then smiles broadly, showing me all her teeth. “Have any of them started to go yet, or is that just my morning breath? ”

I can’t stop the laugh from bubbling up. “They’re all very beautiful and in want of a good brushing with my special chammomint paste.”

“It’ll have to wait.” She pecks the tip of my nose and then sets about getting dressed. “We’ve got pups to collect from.”

The pups…

“I’ve been thinking,” I say, dressing too.

“What’s that big brain been thinking about?”

“What if we could bring them with us?”

She stops what she’s doing, looking at me curiously. “Why?”

I shrug a shoulder. “Well, if I mess up the concoction, we’ll have them to take more from. The pups’ hair will grow and regenerate.”

She squints again. “You’re not telling the whole story.”

Gods damn her magus ability.

“It, or they, will die without their mother.”

“And that will be sad, but it is the way of life.” She resumes her morning routine. “Given that a recently pregnant mother was hunting, I doubt her pups would’ve made it long anyway.”

I huff and roll up our mattress.

“What is it?” she says in a knowing tone.

“I’ve always wanted a dog,” I admit with another shrug.

We’re quiet as we finish packing up our camp. When everything is rolled and put away, she asks, “How would you keep them from incinerating in the warmth?”

She had drifted off easily last night, leaving me alone with all my thoughts. I had time to plan everything.

“I would make a collar from one of our belts and inscribe it with Vosi and Mu. Like Alastair’s warmth ring, this would allow me to create a shield of temperature around them I could moderate. With Kazimir’s help, I could create more elegant solutions when we get back to Fynren.”

She smiles, the corners of her scarf turning up over her mouth. “You’re adorable. Let’s see if there are any living pups left to rescue.”

Giddiness surges through me and I beam at her.

We retrace our steps to the dead mother and Emillia takes a moment to says a Wolish prayer over her body. Then we follow her footprints. Emillia stops every so often to listen to something on the wind and then change direction slightly.

She tells me when we’re getting close, and anticipation blossoms in my chest like a flower in the sun.

At the foot of a towering, white-capped mountain is a den opening just large enough for a massive dire wolf. We push aside the brush and make our way in. It’s warmer here, but still cold enough that the puppies wouldn’t be in danger.

Even through my scarf I can smell the stale scent of a recently expired corpse. My heart plummets through my gut, and Emillia grabs my hand.

“Have a light?” she asks.

I dredge a magus crystal from my bag, and she infuses it with her pinkish magic, lighting up the space. There before us is a huge, scrawny male.

“Starved,” Emillia says as she circles him. “I can hear heartbeats.”

She crouches at the male’s belly and begins ruffling through his fur. I step to the creature and begin my duty, snipping several different samples that I line up in sterile tubes.

Then there’s a tiny yip .

I gasp, looking to Emillia’s arms. Cradled against her bosom are two stark-white pups, their eyes opened. One is a brilliant blue, and the other a shimmering gold. They’re healthy, their bellies full. The mother must’ve fed them before she left.

“Adrik,” she says, her gaze locked on me. “Are you sure?”

I nod. “I will care for them.”

She heaves a sigh and looks down at the pups, each about the size of a one-year-old baby. “If they piss in the tent, I will be very cross.”

I laugh and drop to my knees beside her. “I will clean it.”

“And if they bite?”

“I will heal it.”

One of them yawns bigly and my heart melts. My little wolf.

“Did you get enough fur from the male?” she asks.

I show her my full pouch, then remove my belt.

“We may as well camp here tonight. I’ll get some wood for a fire once you’ve got the pups in their harnesses.”

“Good, good,” I say absently as I get to work cutting my belt into the appropriate sizes.

I work late into the day, realizing only when Emillia returns with a pot full of sloshing white liquid that she’s been gone a long time.

“I warmed up the mother and milked her. I think the cold kept the milk preserved, safe for the babes,” she says, looking down at the yowling young. I hadn’t even realized how vocal they’d become.

“We’ll have to ration it,” I say, praying the pups will be able to eat solid food when we run out.

She sets the pot down next to the pups. They rouse, gaining their feet and shuffling toward the scent of their mother’s milk. If they can walk already, they may be close to weaning.

“How are the collars coming? I’m freezing my tits off.”

“I’m nearly done,” I say, returning my attention to the delicate work of burning the runes into the leather without setting the whole thing on fire. Just two more to go. Phi is next, the long sweeps graceful and smooth. I pull it off despite my shaking hand. I’m cold too, I realize.

Eng to create the shield of cold around them, at sixty degrees so it may be controlled from the outside. I hold up my work when it’s finished and inspect it.

I move to the blue-eyed pup and measure her neck, then punch holes in her belt for the latch.

“What are you going to call them?” Emillia asks.

“I’m not certain yet…We’ll have to come up with names together,” I say.

“Together,” she murmurs with a smile.

I get the collars fitted and attached, then test them with temperatures well within the pups’ tolerance.

They hold.

They work.

I have puppies!