It was unusually warm for the season, the leaves of the trees still a crisp green and showing no signs of fading to their jewel toned colors despite the rapid descent into autumn. Perhaps it was just an odd fall, likely to resolve itself in a few weeks' time when winter encapsulated the Steppes in its deadly grasp.
Cenric, however, was content to enjoy the mild temperatures in place of the bitter biting cold he'd become accustomed to. Especially as he ventured out into the cool morning air to stalk game through the dense wood, his bow strung loosely across his back and arrows in their quiver.
He'd been tracking this particular buck for several miles, the creature fattened on the summer grasses and promising an adequate supply of food for himself and Valka in the coming weeks, perhaps longer if they could smoke some of it.
Sneaking out of the cave at the light of dawn, he'd left Valka twisted in the blanket of her bed roll sound asleep, dark tendrils of hair peeking out from beneath the blanket. Watching her, he'd nearly scooped her from the floor and dumped her on his bed that he'd winnowed into the cave weeks before. Having watched her sleep on the ground while he slept on a plush mattress had left him feeling guilty.
Not that he hadn't attempted, numerous times, to trade spots with her, content to sleep on the ground so that she'd be comfortable.
She'd refused every effort he'd made, rolling her eyes and telling him it was best he slept on it to "keep his princely tush" from being injured. He'd known better, had seen the look of discomfort on her face when she'd sat on the mattress the first time at his insistence and looked as though it might swallow her whole.
A life spent sleeping on the ground and cots didn't translate well to using some of what he had once considered the most basic amenities. He'd heard enough stories about his uncle to have known he'd reacted the same the first time he'd been presented with something other than a threadbare blanket.
The sheer abuse and disregard the Illyrian males had shown her made cinders spark in his blood - he was almost sorry that her brothers weren't still alive, if only to pin them so that Valka could have put the arrows through their chests herself. Not that she needed the help.
On the contrary, the female was made of tempered steel, unyielding, and sharpened to the deadliest edge. It didn't stop him from noticing shadows that would flicker in her eyes when she thought he wasn't looking, the care she put into ensuring that no person or thing saw her as she entered and exited their camp.
She still hadn't told him who or what exactly she was hiding from.
Mounting the hill, he tugged an arrow from his quiver and knelt on the edge as the buck meandered to one of the large ancient pines. He'd wear her down eventually. She at least hadn't kicked him out thus far which was a miracle in itself; easing her into accepting help would be his next step.
If she didn't stab him first.
He wasn't entirely certain why that sent a pulse of excitement through him.
Pulling the bow taut, Cenric aimed toward the far side of the field where the deer worked the remaining velvet from his antlers. Releasing a slow breath, he prepared to release the arrow when a presence materialized behind him making him fumble, sending his arrow flying wildly off into the distance, along with the buck.
"You missed."
Cenric scowled, glaring up at the barely discernible smirk on his uncle's face, the shadows that normally engulfed him somehow lighter. "No thanks to you." He rose with a grumble, bow hanging loosely in his hands. "What are you doing out here, Azriel?"
The stone-faced male lifted a single brow.
Cenric nearly tossed his bow at him.
"Well?" he groused, vexed that he'd have to track more game, "I swear, if you're here to deliver another message from my mother—"
"We haven't heard from you in three months." Cenric stopped at that, the days and weeks he'd spent with Valka cumulating in his mind. Oh. "Your father was growing concerned."
"It's not like he couldn't have come and looked for me himself." Had he really been out here that long?
"He has." There was amusement in Az's voice as he nodded over Cenric's shoulder at the far end of the field where the buck had vanished. "Though with how loud you were being I'm surprised he's missed you."
Humor, that was humor in his uncle's voice, the likes of which he hadn't heard in what felt like an age. He straightened himself, reeling in the volley of protests he'd prepared to throw at him. Looking at Azriel he realized that his shadows really did seem lighter, his whole being seemed lighter, like a dark veil discarded from his features.
"Well, you've found me, you can report back that I haven't become food for were-beasts."
"Yet." Oh, his uncle was certainly in a chipper mood, his usually reserved wit making itself prominent. "What have you been doing out here, Cenric?"
And being snoopy. His thoughts immediately flicked to Valka as lies bloomed on his lips.
"I was hunting, until I was so rudely interrupted." He was glad he'd purged her lingering scent from his clothes before leaving the cave, a habit he'd taken to ensure that her location remained concealed.
Azriel cocked his head, his intense gaze heavy upon him. Cenric schooled his features into neutrality. He hadn't perfected the art of lying to the shadowsinger for nothing.
"Just surviving," he huffed, drawing up his annoyance as he thought of his mother, hoping it would drench his scent and send his thoughts away from the pretty female he'd been staying with. "Look, I'm not coming back if that's what you're here to tell me."
"It's not."
"Well then, why are you here?"
Azriel nodded. "There's business to discuss."
"Business?"
A small, tentative smile. "Elain requests that you return to Velaris to be fitted for your jacket."
Right, Cenric thought, the wedding. He'd nearly forgotten about the occasion, having fled in such a fury that he'd disregarded nearly everything except for his own anger. Had sworn he wouldn't return to his home under any circumstance, even for his aunt and uncles nuptials.
Velaris was his home no longer.
"Well, send her my apologies. I have no intentions of going back." He strung his bow across his back once more, preparing to set off again to track the buck that had vanished into the trees. "She'll have to find someone to fill my place at the wedding."
"Cenric." That tone nearly made him flinch but he held his resolve.
"I've already made my decision; I have no desire to step foot in that city or anywhere near it. It's nothing against you or Elain, as you well know."
"Cenric."
The hair on his neck prickled. His uncle wasn't going to budge on this from the look on his face, icy resolve in his golden hazel eyes.
Cenric sighed. "Az, please don't force—"
"Do it for Elain."
His resolve weakened. The thought of his lovely aunt who'd always cared for him crumbling the stubbornness that he desperately clung to, if he didn't go he'd only be hurting her—
Damn Azriel and his guilt trip.
"Fine," he looked down at himself, clothed in a barely clean linen shirt and his Illyrian leathers, his now long hair pulled away from his face with a leather band. He'd truly lost all track of time. "But I will not be speaking to my mother. When does she need me?"
For Elain he'd venture back to the City of Starlight, so long as he didn't have to see his mother.
"If it fits your . . . schedule, we can go now." Azriel gestured behind him. "Leave your things at camp."
Going back to camp meant leading Azriel straight to Valka. Cenric slipped his bow over a shoulder.
"That's not necessary, I can go like this." Even though he couldn't see it he sensed the intrigue from his uncle - how unlike him it was to hide where he was staying. He easily added "It's a ways from here and I'd like to be back as soon as possible," He nodded towards the barely rising sun. "I do have to hunt for my dinner after all."
He hoped to be back before Valka came looking for him. And as for hunting . . . maybe he'd purchase something Velaris to bring back. Something that wasn't salted to hell and had some spice. He wondered if Valka had ever had a fruit pastry.
His uncle only offered him a curt nod before offering out a hand. Gripping his Azriel's wrist, Cenric followed him into shadow and was whisked away to the City of Starlight.
"You heard the matron." The crack of the whip made her heart splutter in her chest, her feet freezing beneath her as the warrior closed in on her, narrowing his dark eyes, his dark hair a curtain over his broad shoulders. An underling, thrice her height and ten times her weight. "Stealing extra portions of bread is against the rules, bastard, you know the punishment. You think just because they've decided to pity you you're exempt? Bullshit."
Idrius chuckled darkly as he watched from the edge of the circle; Icarius, his twin, remained impassive behind him, quiet and watchful. Both unwilling to help her, more amused to observe as her punishment was dished out.
The icy ground beneath her stole the warmth from her body as she stumbled back, quaking. Anything but the whip, she would take the fists, even the wooden staffs, but the whip—
Practice. She was their practice.
It'd been damned Idrius who'd ripped into her mind as he so often did, who'd made her take the extra servings that were not her own.
The ones she was to be denied as a female and a bastard, regardless of whose line she represented, who she served.
"Get her up," the warrior barked, nodding to two other males who strode towards her, easily peeling her seven-year-old body from the frigid earth. "Five lashing across the wings." He nodded towards the cliff face nearest them. "Take her there."
Willing movement to her limbs, she tried to kick their grips loose, to pry their monstrous hands from her thin wrists—if only she were a little bigger, a little stronger, a little faster-
Mother, not her wings, anything but her wings-
"What are you doing?" a deep voice drawled from behind them, the warriors pausing at the tone, fear saturating their scents.
The warriors exchanged looks as the one with the whip snorted, turning to face the male behind them.
"You know the rules as well as anyone, King, there can be no exceptions, not even for your rabble."
Valka's heart fluttered in her chest at the pulse of warning power that echoed around her, a killing power that no siphon could contain, raw, undiluted magic that could crumble the mountain beneath them. She wept as her fear quelled.
"Release her," she heard as he shifted his feet, distributing his weight more evenly-dangerous, he was so dangerous- "I will not ask again."
The warriors behind her paused, the pressure releasing as they loosened their grips. To be given a direct order from their king meant they had no choice but to obey, or else.
"You will do no such thing," the one with the whip snarled, the grasp on her wrists instantly increasing again, their allegiance uncertain. "You think just because you carry that title now you're free to do as you please here, beast? There are rules for a reason,
Silbah—"
"You will address him properly," that was Idrius, his voice filled with cool amusement, "or you will pay the price."
These games they played. She could have ripped her nails across his face, the lying, deceitful bastard.
"And who's going to make me pay it?" the male spat, "Will you, King? Will you shift into that harrowed form that we've never seen and take it for yourself? Or are you too scared to do it? To show us?"
Another pulse, this one enough to make the earth quake beneath them, the camp falling into uneasy silence behind them. He was growing tired of it, she could tell, even as he gave them one more chance to obey. She could hear the murmurs in the distance, the warriors moving quickly to grab the children and females.
Idrius laughed again, eager for what was to follow. Icarius remained silent.
"Put her down."
"No."
The whip cracked a moment before the pain spliced through her shoulders, narrowly missing her wings, the sting so severe the breath rushed from her in a gasp.
A mistake.
The pain grew in intensity as unfathomable magic cracked beside her, the warriors holding her screaming as they lost their grip on her and dropped to the ground, blood pooling. She went tumbling into the ice face first, the bitter cold tearing at her skin.
It took her a moment to see he'd ripped their arms to literal shreds, the skin peeled back to reveal steaming muscle as they scrambled away. A mere warning, she realized, the sound of Idrius's crazed cackle echoing eerily above the sound of the cracking whip.
The whip her brother now wielded.
He wasn't going to kill them, only show them that he was not to be trifled with.
It was almost more appropriate.
Pushing herself upright, another crack sounded as Silbah brought the whip down upon the first warrior, who screamed as it tore into his chest. He must have taken it from him, forcibly if the odd angle of the warriors shoulder was any indication. She could barely move, the searing in her back so severe. It was pure agony, but at least her wings had been spared—
She felt warm tears of relief race down her cheeks.
Icarius stepped up beside her, making no attempts to help her but serving as a barrier of sorts as his deep voice murmured, "Don't look away."
She didn't dare. She took in every detail.
Silbah bloodied the male, red droplets spraying into the snow as he brutally brought the whip down again and again, the stench of iron saturating the air. He was going to tear all the skin from the warrior, to show the dominance he bore as the chosen. He didn't need his beast form for it, nor did he need his magic. His sheer strength alone was more than enough.
He could have ended their lives so easily. Yet he did not.
She watched as her brother continued until the male moved no longer, Idrius' cackling finally quieting as he finished. Dropping the whip unceremoniously next to the unconscious warrior her brother turned to face her, his beautiful face impassive, blood splattered across his high cheeks.
His gaze was flat, fury burning in its depths.
"Bring her here, Icarius." His tone held no room for disobedience. It never did.
Icarius's face soured but he complied, lifting her into his arms as he carried her to the male who took her with ease, mindful of the wounds on her back. "Get water and bandages." A swift and direct order, one that Icarius and Idrius quickly followed, muttering their acknowledgement before disappearing.
Always eager to appease their youngest brother and king, even if it meant helping the orphaned bastard he'd claimed as his own. She was his own.
He had come for her.
"I . . . I'm sorry my lord," she managed to mutter, her vision growing blotchy as the adrenaline drained from her and was replaced with throbbing pain. She'd be surprised if she remained conscious much longer. The wound would scar, no doubt, but it hadn't been her wings.
"Quiet, Valka." The words, while harsh, held no bite to them, though an outsider would likely not catch the difference. "Speak later." She felt the subtle squeeze as he pulled her close, his arms a protective barrier around her.
With him she would never face harm, he would always come for her, even in the darkest of nights. And for him she would do anything, no feat too impossible.
"Of course, my king."
Valka woke to the sound of rustling, the crinkling of paper and the rich smell of a spice she'd never scented before. Her stomach gave a low growl.
It seemed the little lord had found his way back from his impromptu visit to Velaris, then.
She'd been watching from the high tops of the trees early that morning, keen on remaining out of sight, having woken shortly after his departure from the cave. A part of her had been curious to see just how long she could follow him without his notice, and she had been about to jump down to mock him for his lack of awareness when she'd sensed the shadowsinger and had fallen back, wary of his presence.
She had no desire to be discovered, by anyone.
Uncertainty had held her as Cenric spoke to the male, cursing her own foolishness for letting him remain with her. If he were to reveal her location he would compromise all the efforts she had made to disappear - even just a whisper of her location and she'd be found.
To her disbelief he'd kept her location a secret, going so far as to refrain from going back to camp to ensure Azriel would not see her.
It had left her . . . pleasantly surprised.
So she had wandered back to the cave, pondering whether or not the little lord would be returning at all after visiting his beautiful city. He would certainly come back to retrieve his belongings at least, she had reasoned, deciding that perhaps she should finish the book he'd given her after learning she'd never had the opportunity to read a novel, before he reclaimed it and whisked it away.
Despite herself, she had to admit she was the tiniest bit curious to know if the little warrior in the story managed to escape the monstrous trolls who'd captured him and his companions.
She'd even ventured to sit on the bed while reading, her curiosity getting the better of her when there were no watching eyes. And somehow she had fallen asleep on the cursed plush monstrosity he'd insisted on dragging to the cave, the novel opened on her chest.
The knowing smile as she made eye contact with him made her want to throw a blade at his face.
"You're awake."
"How very astute of you," she grumbled, sitting upright and closing the volume. Cenric summoned two plates from nothingness and began to pour food from the container he held. His insistence on not utilizing his power was rapidly diminishing it seemed, unless he'd finally chosen to end his foolish little escapade. "I assumed you wouldn't be coming back, or with," she gave a tentative sniff, the smells enticing, "whatever that is."
Cenric gave her a confused look, cobalt eyes sparking in the lantern light.
She shrugged.
"I assumed when you left with the shadowsinger this morning you had finally pulled your head from your ass and were heading home for good." She ran a hand through her disheveled hair. "I'm surprised to see you actually came back."
"Of course I came back," a flush rushed up his cheeks, "I was . . . persuaded to return for a jacket fitting for Azriel and Elain's wedding in the spring."
Valka blinked.
She'd nearly forgotten the terrifying male who had nearly discovered her so many times was engaged, to Nesta's younger sister no less. The flower maiden. Hadn't they postponed the event indefinitely?
"I'm sorry I didn't say anything when I left." Cenric sheepishly offered a plate out to her, the smell enticing enough that she didn't bother refusing. "I would have told you but I was trying to keep Azriel away from you since, you know, you don't want to be found." He paused for a moment, considering. "How did you know I left with Azriel?"
"I heard you leave this morning and was going to join you on the hunt." Valka picked up the fork and speared one of the chunks of the seasoned meat on her plate, eyeballing the piece of chicken with interest. "I scented the shadowsinger and decided to stay out of sight."
"Ah."
She bit into the meat and nearly moaned. What in the Mother's name was this? She had never tasted something so rich and divine. Lacking the subtly she usually wore, she stabbed another piece and shoved it into her mouth, chewing with vigor.
"Do you like it?" Cenric eased onto the bed next to her, beginning to pick at his own plate. "It's from one of the restaurants near the Sidra - the owner has known my family for years and always prepares the best food. We used to eat there often."
"You make it sound as though you can't do that anymore." She shoved another large bite into her mouth, this time accompanied by a toasted potato slathered in butter, as she watched him from the corner of her eye. "It's not like they're not going to welcome you back if you chose to go. Quite the contrary, they'd probably throw a fucking parade for you, sobbing all the while as they tuck you safely back in their arms."
Cenric expression soured as he lowered his fork from his lips.
"That's exactly why. It's the principle of the matter."
Valka rolled her eyes.
"Oh yes, what hardship, a family that loves you and a home you can call your own without having to take it out of someone's hide every damn day just to keep some semblance of peace." She placed a hand over her heart, rolling her eyes as she speared another potato. "I feel for you, truly."
"At least your mother doesn't coddle you," he muttered beneath his breath, "though she does seem to care deeply for you."
Valka coughed at the thought, nearly spitting out her food. Dark laughter built in her throat at even the thought of something so preposterous-was he truly that fucking stupid? If she didn't fear so deeply for her life she might have told him as much.
"You're a damned fool if you think that." She shook her head, scraping the last of the food from the plate and shoving it into her mouth. "You haven't the slightest inkling of how things operate here."
He looked truly perplexed. By the Mother, he was that stupid.
"You really don't get it, do you?"
"Perhaps not." He fiddled with his fork, pushing his food around his plate. "I know very little of your family other than that your brothers were tyrants and were keen on seeing to it that my father and uncles were wiped out. I had always assumed your mother-"
She flinched at the mention of her , nearly jumping across the bed to cease his talk regarding her. The less energy directed at that . . . female, the better. "Rule number one of survival, Cenric: never assume anything."
"I see . . ." He contemplated his chicken for a moment before looking at her, something snapping into place in his eyes. "She's the one you're hiding from, isn't she?"
Electricity sparked through Valka at the thought, her heart thundering in her chest as she locked gazes with him, the truth nearly spooling from her lips. "It would be wise to leave some stones unturned, little lord." She set aside her plate and rose quickly from the bed, her book discarded.
She needed to patrol, to ensure that nothing had tracked her, that no one had caught wind of her presence. Bound, she was bound this place with no means of escape-
Valka didn't quite suppress the flinch as she felt his hand latch onto her wrist and pull her back, his calloused fingers gentle. To her own surprise, she didn't pull away.
If only she could speak freely, if only she could make him understand what exactly she was up against, what they were all up against—
"Valka . . ." The way he said her name unraveled something in her, unraveled a means of survival that had driven away anyone who had dared come near her. "Talk to me. Tell me the truth."
She nearly did.
She was a fool for ever allowing him this close to her.
You know the truth, she thought bitterly, If only you would see. She turned towards him watching the lantern light flicker across the steep planes of his face, his too perfect chin. He needed to leave, soon. Needed to return to his fortress of a city where the things that lurked in the darkness could not claim him.
"Valka—"
"No more, pretty boy." She shook out of his hold, lucidity rushing back to her as she stepped away from him and sat on the edge of the bed, willing her mind to calm. "Just . . . talk about anything else that doesn't involve my business." She rested her head in her hands. "Tell me a story about that dead sister of yours."
She almost felt bad for the faint ember of pain that blossomed on his face. Almost. He remained passive for a moment before he looked up at her, his eyes clear despite the topic she'd asked about.
"What story do you want to hear?"
"Tell me how she died."