Page 36 of Power of Draken

Ellie nods.

“Kyrian!” I shout to summon the male, then hold my palm out to Ellie. “Give me your map. I trust Chambers to have come up with a plan that protects anything but his own ass about as much as I trust Grayson to be polite.”

“I worked out my own route,” Ellie says, but hands over her map as instructed. She’s proud, not stupid.

“Our route will be better,” Kyrian says, catching on as he approaches. Kyrian is quick like that. And helpful to a fault. It’s still a mystery how someone like him bonded with the likes of Kai and me.

“Really? Why is that?” Ellie puts her hands on her hips, and it’s all I can do not to laugh. Explaining that Kyrian has over a hundred years of experience on her, or that between the three of us and our draken we have most of the in play territory scouted, isn’t an option though.

“Because I’m very good at this,” Kyrian says with no hint of bragging. “And I’m motivated to keep you alive, seeing as Rowan here would be upset if you died. Which is why you are going to head this way.” Kyrian traces a high ground path with his finger, giving Ellie pointers as he spells out each segment, making her repeat the instructions back to him before releasing her to Collin and the rest of her impatient squad.

Squads continue to leave the courtyard over the next hour, their boots crunching on the gravel as they set off on their assigned routes. We are one of the last groups to depart, doing so in the pairs and trios Kyrian assigned. To the surprise of absolutely no one, Rowan is with me and him. Kai plans to catch up to us later, after he ensures everyone is on their way—and then takes a small detour toward the alchemy workshop to see if he can’t spoil whatever alloy materials he can get his hands on.

The hike out is an easy one, even with the tangled undergrowth that keeps trying to snag our ankles. The pulse of the forest around me, enhanced by the promise that I can hold on to it for two whole weeks, is a balm to my nerves. The deeper we get, the louder the forest’s presence echoes in my blood. Which is as it should be. I am a wolf at my core. I was never meant to be held in cages of brick and mortar.

“We can stop here for the night,” Kyrian calls out five hours into the hike, as we approach a well-concealed high ground alcove a few hundred paces off the main trail.

“Thank fuck,” Rowan mutters under her breath, the relief in her voice so heartfelt that I chuckle.

Neither Kyrian nor I are remotely tired, but Rowan is at her limit. She’d not have made it half the distance at the start of the year though, and I’m absurdly proud of her. That the totality of my job for the next two weeks is to keep her safe feels like a privilege.

Breathing in the forest’s freshness, I open myself up fully to its sounds. Even with Eryndor’s wards damping my magic, I can hear the distinct rustle of leaves as nocturnal creatures start to emerge for the night while others seek shelter from the approaching darkness. There’s a distant hoot of an owl in the east and a low, almost inaudible growl, followed by the snap of a twig to the other side. Then the soft padding of paws on the forest floor.

Wolves. Not shifters, but real, wild wolves sorting through the natural bickering of the pack.

Crunchy, Nyx says into my mind, along with the sensation of an empty belly.

Don’t eat the wolves.

Hungry.

Do NOT eat the wolves.

Nyx doesn’t reply. He won’t eat the wolves though. Not from any consideration of my request, but because the draken is picky with his meat and prefers fattier dinners. I sling my pack off my shoulder, swallowing a grimace at the twinge of fiery pain that pierces the nagging ache, which has been getting steadily worse throughout the hike. The weather is about to turn for the worst then. Probably by tomorrow.

Stopping a few paces away, Rowan drops to the ground without bothering to take off her pack. She is sweat-soaked despite the chill and looks like a bedraggled kitten, complete with perked ears made from tousled chestnut tufts of hair. It’s adorable. Not that I’m dumb enough to say that aloud. Or maybe I am. Teasing Rowan may be my new favorite hobby.

“Wake me up tomorrow,” she says. “Or better yet… don’t.”

“Come on, rabbit.” Stepping behind her, I pull off Rowan’s pack.

“I’m not a rabbit.”

I press my thumbs into two tension points just below her shoulders.

“Fine, I’ll be a rabbit if you do that again,” she says quickly and I oblige.

The resulting moan of pleasure sounds so much like a release of a different sort that Kyrian stumbles over a root. Knowing that this sound is genuine and not just an act to torment Kai makes my head swim a bit.

I press into Rowan’s back again, rolling my thumb over the knot. “Good thing you don’t sound like that in the training ring.”

“You mean when I’m rolling on the sand with a cramped calf and don’t know whether it, or your helpful intervention, hurts more?” she says over her shoulder.

“Exactly.” I grin. An indignant Rowan is much better than a terrified Rowan. I continue moving my hands along her back and feel her pressing into my touch despite the verbal melee. It’s probably just her exhaustion, but I still hope it means she is starting to trust me more. “You sound more like a screeching banshee in the ring.”

“Was wondering what that was all about,” Kyrian says. He is starting to set up camp and pretending not to be envious of the banter between Rowan and me. I feel a twinge of guilt. Of the three of us, Kyrian is the social one. He needs people, where Kai and I merely tolerate them. Or not.

I wonder what he wouldn’t give to have his fingers exploring Rowan’s muscles right now. To be talking with her like friends. Flirting even.

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