Page 22 of Traitor Wolf (Bonded by Fate Duet #1)

Chapter Sixteen

“ W ell, I'd better head to the factory for the night shift,” Elia told the children. She’d barely just returned from my mother’s day shift, made dinner, and was off again. She truly was a blessing.

They chorused their displeasure, clearly liking having her around.

“No, I’ll go if you keep an eye on Brynn,” Kaelric said, standing up.

Elia raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to work all night at the sewing factory? You?”

She gave him a knowing grin as if it were an inside joke. He reached out and flicked her ear, causing her to recoil and laugh.

“Yes, I will,” he told her. “I can figure out some stupid machine.”

“He said stupid !” Sable announced to the whole room.

I grinned when Kaelric winced.

I looked down at my mother, who was already back asleep on the couch, and stood. She’d had a nice dinner and seemed better. “I’ll go. I know how to do that job. I’ve filled in for my mother many times.”

Kaelric shook his head. “We start training for the next trial bright and early. You need rest and time with your family.” He looked at his cousin. “Protect her.”

She nodded once, and I rolled my eyes.

I could protect myself. Or at least Valkaryn could. I wanted to argue, but he was already out the door.

Elia stepped into the kitchen and ladled me some soup before walking it over to me.

“Still hungry?” She handed me the steaming hot bowl.

My stomach growled as if giving her the answer, but we never took seconds, so I paused, peering around the room at my siblings.

“The children are full, and this will just go to waste. Training will make you hungrier as you build muscle. That’s normal.”

I nodded and took the stew from her. “Thank you.”

This stew was different from breakfast. It had huge chunks of purple potatoes, carrots, and large cubes of chicken in a creamy broth.

“This is really good,” I told her for the second time as she gently instructed Renna on how to clean the pot while Mira fought over wanting to be Elia’s helper.

Where had she gotten chicken? It must have cost a fortune.

“I wish they fought over chores all the time.” I drank the rest of the stew and handed Renna my bowl.

Elia smiled. “They’ve been getting rewarded for chores.”

Oh . Rewarded for chores, I had never heard of such a thing. You did a chore around here, or you got an earful and a possible smack to the bottom.

“I finished my stew! Can we hear the story?” Little Finn asked.

The story?

Elia caught my eye. “The reward.” She winked.

She glanced around the kitchen, seemingly making sure everything was tidy, and nodded.

Once Renna was done with the dishes and Mira had laid them on the drying rack, they all piled into one of the two bedrooms we had, slipping into bunk beds, two of them in each, so that they could all hear the story.

Elia sat in the middle of the room, cross-legged on the floor. “So where did we leave off?” She rubbed her chin as if she didn’t remember.

“The great warrior fell in love with the wolf king!” Finn cried out .

Elia smiled. “Oh yes. So this warrior was the most beautiful woman that the wolfkin had ever laid eyes on. Every man wanted to marry her, but she only had eyes for one. For the king of the wolves. The alpha. Her leader.”

Isla gasped, scooching closer to the edge of the bed, and I smiled, taking a seat on the floor to listen. We didn’t do story time much around here. We had one book of fables, and it was torn to bits, and the children knew them all by heart.

“Did they get married and have babies?” Mira asked as if inwardly swooning.

Elia’s gaze flicked to mine as if there was more to the story. “They did. And they lived happily for many years… until the Betrayal.”

The children hushed. Even Finn, who was normally full of questions, sat upright and wide-eyed.

“One of the king’s closest warriors, a wolfkin man he’d trusted with his life, plotted in secret. He wanted the crown, the throne, and the wolf army. He struck in the dead of night and killed the true king with poison that he dripped into his open sleeping mouth.”

Mira gasped, clutching her blanket.

Elia lowered her voice: “The great warrior rose in the middle of the night and tried to avenge her husband, but she was struck down, too.”

A collective aww went around the room .

“But her soul… it didn’t pass on like most,” Elia told them. “They say her fury was so strong it shook the heavens, pleading with the Creator. The Creator took pity on her and infused her soul into the greatest weapon known to man. A blade unlike any other.”

My fingers curled instinctively around Valkaryn’s hilt as shock rumbled through me. Elia met my eyes, something unspoken passing between us. This was Valkaryn’s story, the one that Kaelric had told me, but with more detail.

“And what happened to the bad guy?” Renna whispered.

Elia gave a tight smile. “He crowned himself alpha king. But no matter how many years pass, no matter how many lies he tells, the wolves remember the truth. One day, the real heir will return, and the blade will sing again.”

Tobben leapt off the top bunk, wielding a small stick he must have found outside and had been carrying all day. “I want a blade like that!”

“Me too!” cried the other children.

“I want to be a king!” Cyrus admitted.

“I want to be the great magicless warrior woman,” Mira said.

I could barely hear them. Because I think Elia just told the story of Valkaryn, and it broke my heart .

She pulsed at my hip as if in agreement, but said nothing.

When the children went to sleep, I checked on my mother and gently moved her to her bed, a formerly large closet off the second bedroom.

Her breathing was better, shallower, and less ragged.

I tucked the blankets around her thin frame, brushing a few damp strands of hair off her forehead.

She murmured something unintelligible and rolled to her side.

Once she was settled, I stepped back into the main living room to find Elia wiping down the kitchen table, her sleeves rolled up, dark braid slung over one shoulder. She moved efficiently, silently, like she’d been in this home for years instead of days.

“I can do that,” I offered, stepping forward.

She didn’t look up, just held out a hand to stop me. “You need rest for the next trial.”

I leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “What do you care how I do in the next trial?”

Her gaze flicked up, unreadable, before briefly landing on the sword at my hip. “Considering my beloved cousin is protecting you with his life,” she said coolly, “I am naturally invested in your success. ”

I snorted. “I don’t believe that for a second. You want me to win so Kaelric can have the sword. Why?”

She straightened, cloth still in hand, and studied me for a long moment before answering. “Because it would mean something,” she said, voice quiet but firm.

I arched a brow. “To who?”

She hesitated, then looked slowly around our tiny living space.

Her eyes settled on the frayed patchwork carpet, the chipped teacup on the stove, the faint water stain spreading across the papered ceiling.

“I don’t know much about life here,” she said finally.

“But it seems your people struggle to make ends meet. To keep their bellies full. To stay warm.”

My mouth parted in offense, but she raised her hand before I could speak.

“And so do mine, but we struggle in a different way. Back home, we’re just trying to keep our children alive.

Our elders safe. Our lands from falling further into ruin.

Winning Valkaryn would give Kaelric power to make things better for us.

For all of us. Whatever you are going through for your people, Kaelric is doing the same for ours. ”

Her voice caught slightly just at the end, and I noticed the faint tremble in her hand where it still clutched the rag. Not weakness, but resolve.

I had never considered in all my time with Kaelric that he, too, might be fighting for people he loved, fighting to bring them up out of hard times.

I let my shoulders fall, the anger slipping away.

Maybe Kaelric and I were more alike than I thought.

After that, Elia made her bed on the couch quietly, her presence calm and unobtrusive.

Within minutes, her breathing deepened, and I could tell she’d fallen asleep.

I slipped into bed with my mother, curling into the familiar shape of the mattress, the huge divot where my father used to sleep.

It had never quite sprung back. Just like us.

I watched the rise and fall of her chest, each inhale steady, soft.

Every hour, I reached out to press the back of my hand to her forehead.

My fingers trembled with each touch. I braced for the worst. But sometime near dawn the heat broke.

Her skin turned damp, and she stirred on her own, eyes fluttering open.

“I feel so much better,” she whispered, sitting up, color blooming in her cheeks like spring after a long winter.

Relief washed over me, too big to hold. I nodded and blinked hard, forcing the tears back down.

“I was so worried.” I hugged her gently before I slid off the bed. I needed to get her some water, something so I could feel useful again, not just standing helpless at her bedside .

When I stepped into the kitchen, the smell hit me first, warm, buttery, rich.

“Eggs?” I asked in shock, watching Elia crack another one into a hot pan. “Where did you get those?”

She turned her head slightly and pressed a finger to her lips. Her eyes flicked to the couch.

I followed her gaze.

Kaelric was curled awkwardly across the small frame, his legs dangling off one side, one arm slung over his stomach. His chest rose and fell in deep, even breaths, and a shaft of morning sunlight stretched across his bare collarbone, golden and soft.

I stared at him for too long. Something in my chest twisted, warm and panicky.