Page 43 of Blood of Wolves

Náli let out a slow breath through his nostrils.

“But, if she’s amenable, and I think she will be, you can ride Kat.”

Náli stared at him a long moment, breathing through an open mouth, body drawn up tight – poised on the edge of a decision. “Why me?”

Oliver answered honestly. “Because I don’t think anyone else could. And, because, when we get to Aeres, I need the drakes battle ready.”

Náli’s brows lifted. “I thought you were just taking word of the approaching Úlfheðnar forces.”

“So does Erik. But if I’m riding a weapon, I expect to use it when I get there.”

Slowly, a smile touched Náli’s mouth. “How devious, your lordship.”

“Not devious. Practical. Are you in, or not?”

Náli sat up straight. “I’ll need saddle, harness, and bridle. And, of course, a formal introduction to the lady in question.”

Oliver smirked. “Not a problem.”

9

Mattias was angry, but that was to be expected.

What Náli hadn’t anticipated was thedegreeof his anger. His fury, in fact.

He’d never seen him like this: bristling, quivering with suppressed rage as he stood before the fireplace, hands clenched to white-knuckled fists, and leveled Náli with a glare that felt like hatred. His clenched jaw threw shadows down his throat, and his gazeburned.

Never ever had Náli known the urge to look away from him, to walk away from him – but he did now, and it left him shaking.

He’d relayed what Oliver had told him – the crux of it, at least. He left out the part about Oliver insisting that Mattias had…feelings, for him, and the way those words left Náli reeling.

“But that’s insanity,” Mattias said. “Of course you won’t go.”

“No. I will.”

Hence the fury.

He held Náli’s gaze another long, fraught moment – Náli refused to look away, on principle; he was the lord here, the one in charge – and then turned toward the hearth, and gripped the mantelpiece in both hands, leather bracers creaking as his wrists flexed within them. Firelight bathed a face gone harsh and unfamiliar. It was easy, always, to overlay memories of a sweet-natured, laughing boy onto the man Mattias had become – one who, in this instant, resembled nothing so much as a terrifying opponent. Náli had the errant, but sure, thought that, skilled though he was with a sword, if he challenged Mattias to a match right now, he’d be beaten. Handily.

How had they come to this? And in so short a time?

In truth, he’d always known that things with Mattias would come to a head at some point. But that had always been a distant thought, dim and out of focus. Now, though, after having been kidnapped, after pushing his magic farther than he ever had – the head had come. Ugly, tender, ready to rupture.

Because he’d always been graceless when it came to his emotions, Náli said, “Since you seem to have developed a new habit of insubordination, go on. Shout at me. Tell me how stupid I am.”

The bracers creaked again, and Mattias said nothing. At first. Finally, voice a mere scrape of sound, he said, “I live to serve the Corpse Lord of the Fault Lands. His life, his legacy, his wishes are my only concerns.” His head turned the barest fraction, gaze bright and pained as it slid toward him. “I will shout at him if that’s what he wishes. But my opinion means nothing to him.”

The words struck like a slap across the face. Cold, impersonal. As if Náli was only his master, and nothing more.

Maybe he never had been.

Your opinion means everything. More than anyone’s.But if he said that, his voice would break, and his façade would shatter, and Mattias would see…everything. Every ugly, stuffed-down sentiment he wasn’t supposed to have. So he drew himself upright to his full height – which still only put him even with Mattias’s shoulder, damn it – and said, “Aside from this past week, when have Ieverdismissed your advice out of hand?”

Mattias stiffened, and then his head turned the rest of the way, face smoothing with surprise.

And only after he’d said it did Náli realize the absolute truth of the question. His whole life, he’d sought Mattias’s wisdom, his approval. From his fighting stance, to the weight and balance of his dagger, to the thickness of cloak he would need on any given journey. Mattias had always been an easy, willing, kind teacher; careful to point things out with a quiet aside and a subtle gesture in front of others, so that the lords of Aeretoll might think Náli a young savant, rather than a coached, unready heir.

A recent memory filled his mind: just before his party had left Naus Keep for the Yuletide Festival, his mother had hosted a dinner party. All the guests in attendance – lords and ladies heaped in furs and diamonds – had been the parents of daughters. Eligible daughters – daughters they’d brought along, and presented one by one, with much pomp and puffery to Náli.

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