Page 16 of Fate Promised

“Hold on.” Triska’s fingers brushed his palm as she unwrapped it for him. When she was done, she held it between her thumb and forefinger, and her hand moved toward his face as if she were about to feed him. Ducking her head, she dropped it into his hand.

Juri popped it in his mouth and chewed. His heart rate still raced from being so close to her. He wished she had fed him, although feeding someone by hand was a courtship activity. One he’d never partaken in.

He took a step back and jerked his chin toward the others. “We should head down the beach.” He needed to walk around and make sure everything was all right, then hunt for the necromancers.

Fergal was a few steps ahead of them, and he halted. “What is this?” Fergal lifted something from the sand where Hoyt had stood.

Juri inhaled sharply and walked over. “It’s Hoyt’s scrying bowl.”

Fergal’s expression clouded. “Give me your vest. Quickly. This is no scrying bowl.”

Juri whipped it off and handed it over. “What is it?”

Fergal wrapped the bowl and tucked it under his arm. He shook his head. “I need to make sure no one is listening first.”

No one stood near them except Triska. He rubbed his mouth. “Who’d be listening—”

“This isn’t the right time.” Fergal gestured down the beach toward a few townsfolk slumped on the sand. “Come to my store in the morning. This will be safe then.” He settled the wrapped bowl more securely under his arm.

As Fergal trundled off, Juri stared after him. “All magicwielders are loons, but he seems to really be swimming against the current.” Wrapping a bowl, even a magic one, seemed odd, but then again, he’d never understood magic or magicwielders.

“Oh, he’s as sharp as ever, but he’s always been a little strange, and he’s cryptic with information.”

Everything felt surreal. Ryba attacked, an island that only existed in tales a short stretch away, and here he was talking to Triska on the beach in front of a bunch of townsfolk. He’d dreamed of this moment for so long, but he’d imagined a much different setting. “I should move back into the forest. The vulk … we shouldn’t be here.”

Triska pointed. “I think it’s okay. Our mayor is talking to your friend.” Down the beach, the mayor gestured wildly as he spoke with Kyril. Across from him, Kyril had his arms crossed and wasn’t responding, only glowering. Villagers eyed him, but no one ran in terror.

Juri ran his hand through his hair. “The vulk don’t speak in front of humans.”

She frowned. “Well, there are few humans in Ryba who don’t have some kind of magicwielder or peltwalker blood. People here are more tolerant because we have all kinds living here.” She smiled. “That’s why we were named the best place to live in Ulterra by the Ulterran Chronicle.” Triska gestured toward the mayor. “Mayor Burr has been rather motivated ever since to put our town on the map.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I saw that story in the paper.”

“You did?” Triska turned to him, her large eyes even wider, her lips parted slightly. Soft, pale pink lips. “You get the paper?”

“I pay a brownie to deliver it. Of course, he keeps trying to sneak inside my den to see if it’s a place he might want to live. He’s a quick little sucker, but I catch him every time. Once they get in, it’s hard to get them out.”

“Really? We don’t have brownies here. I think I’d like to see one.” Her brow wrinkled. “Where is your den?”

He swallowed. “North of here, in the mountains between Ryba and the start of the clan land.” Only a short run away.

The line between her brows deepened. “All this time you’ve been so close …?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Words died on his tongue. There were so many things he wanted to say to her. To try to explain … but almost everything was verboten for a vulk to say to someone outside the pack.

The mayor clapped his hands then waved, moving into the center of the light from the fires still burning along the beach. He rocked back and forth on his heels. “All right, that was a bit of a … surprise … this evening, but no worries, no worries.” He rocked faster. “There have been reports of necromancer unrest throughout Ulterra. Why last week, even Coromesto had an attack.”

Juri frowned. He hadn’t heard anything about an attack, but then again, he’d spent his time there in the sewers.

The mayor cleared his throat. “That’s why I hired vulk protection for our Autumn Festival. Nothing but the best here in Ryba.” He flashed a smile at the crowd, but his gaze still zipped from person to person as if scanning their faces to make sure they believed him.

Juri’s brows shot up, and he stared at Kyril. Kyril’s lips were curled up his eyeteeth, and he looked like he was about to bite the mayor’s head off.

“As you witnessed, the vulk saved us, and they’ll continue to offer their protection like they used to back before the Territory Wars. I’m the first mayor to resurrect this old treaty with the vulk.” He waved his hand as if petting the air. “No need to worry about further attacks, the vulk have everything under control. I’m so confident, I’m going to roll a few barrels of our newest beer out into the street so we can all celebrate.”

“The mayor hired you?” Triska asked.

Juri rubbed his head. “First I’ve heard of it.” He paused. “The vulk protected villages in the past, though. Like we do now with the wolf clans. I need to talk with Kyril.” His pack brother had fully bared his teeth, and a hint of red glistened in his eyes. “Before he starts another war.”

---