Page 37 of The Onyx Covenant

“That’s helpfully vague,” Lyra mutters.

Melian’s lips curve. “The ritual doesn’t reward those who need everything explained. Last year, three pairs never returned.”

“What happened to them?” I ask, though I suspect I know the answer.

“They weren’t worthy of the Covenant.” She ties the blindfold around my eyes, plunging me into darkness, then presumably does the same for Lyra. “May the moons guide you.”

She takes our bound hands and guides us several steps, then turns us.

“You’re now facing the woods. Go north and stay true on that path until you scent the mountain moss. Follow it to the heart tree, which will offer you a token. Find yourself on a pebbly stone floor, and you have veered in the wrong direction. Coming back, you must remain blindfolded. And remember, trust is also in being honest in the test without cheating… you will be watched.” She releases us, and her receding footsteps soften.

I breathe in the scent of damp earth and pine trees.

“Well,” Lyra says after a moment. “This should be interesting.”

I feel her shift, the rope pulling slightly against my wrist.

“North,” I say, and I tilt my head back, orienting myself by the warmth of the sun on my face and the sounds of the forest.

“Slightly to your right,” Lyra says just as the words are about to leave my lips. Clever girl.

I take a step, then pause when she doesn’t move with me. “You need to?—”

“I know how to walk, Theron,” she says tartly. “Contrary to what you might think, I didn’t spend the last year sitting around weeping over you.”

I laugh it off. “Good to know the claws are still sharp.”

She’s finally moving forward with me.

We take the first steps together, awkwardly at first, then find a tentative rhythm. I take hold of her hand, and the sudden contact with her skin sends electricity up my arm.

“What are you doing?” she demands.

“Making it easier to walk,” I say innocently. “Worried you might like being so close to me?”

“In your dreams.”

“Every night,” I admit, the truth slipping out.

Her breath catches, and we both fall silent.

Then the air changes—cooler, damper. We’ve reached the deep forest’s edge.

“Woods will be denser, bigger, more broken branches on the ground and shrubbery,” Lyra says, her shoulder brushing mine, sending another current of awareness through me.

“So now we trust each other,” I say, surprising myself with how easily the words come.

We move forward when my foot hits a root jutting across the path. I stumble, regaining my balance before I fall over.

“Step up,” I warn, reaching back with my free hand to guide her. “Root across the path.”

Her fingers brush against my arm as she navigates the obstacle. “Yep, got that from you lurching.”

We continue, my arm stretching outward as my navigation to ensure I don’t walk into anything. I assume she’s doing the same, as I feel her swaying as if reaching around her. Her scent fills my nostrils—night-blooming jasmine and fresh rain—stronger than I remember, more intoxicating. My inner wolf stirs, restless and hungry in a way that has nothing to do with food.

“You still smell the same,” I murmur.

“And you’re still inappropriate,” she snaps, but her quickening pulse betrays her. “Focus on the task.”

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