Page 65 of Fate Unchained

Lilah spun back to him. “That’s far too expensive. I can’t …” She bit her lip and ducked her head, grabbing her bodice from his hands and lacing it back around her. In a whisper, she said, “I can’t afford it.”

“You’re not paying.”

The pack had converted the heaps of gold and jewels they had uncovered from the mountains into obols, and one of their allies named Kole set up a central account in the Horvitz Bank of Ulterra for them. They usually sent Kole into town to get things they needed and handle human-related matters, but Kyril had used the bank in Ryba when he was there—the vulk ran up quite a tab at the tavern—and knew how it worked.

Lilah tucked her shirt into her breeches, then turned and jogged over to Hazel. The two women whispered together for a moment—as if they were friends—and he walked back to Lilah’s office and grabbed the grimoire off her desk. He turned off the lamp, wreathing himself in darkness except for a thin, watery slice of moonlight filtering in from the high window and leaving a pinpoint of light on the opposite wall.

Love.

His heart pounded. Not a chance. The rune demanded that he and Lilah choose the other, and he knew without a doubt that she wouldn’t choose him. No one ever had, not even his mother.

In a rush, the memory of the last time he ever spoke to his mother washed through him. He’d stuffed it so far down he thought he’d forgotten it forever, but it reared up before his eyes.

He was twelve. He’d slept on the couch of the clan leader again. It wasn’t a bad spot, one of the more comfortable places, and the leader’s wife always cooked a nice meal, but they had three children of their own, and while no one treated him as if he were in the way, it was clear he wasn’t a part of the family. No one sat and helped him with his schoolwork, even though he was a seventh-year student just like their youngest son. They didn’t give him absentminded hugs and touches as they walked by, either, in the normal wolfwalker way.

He'd stayed with them for several weeks, so it was time to rotate to another house. After overhearing a woman complain he was eating her out of hearth and home, he’d learned it was best to switch houses every few weeks. Then people were happier and treated him better.

The clan leader’s wife had already left to walk the others to school—no one had thought to get him—and he stepped out to follow them. The day was cool, fall came early in the Northern Territories, and the sky was the cobalt blue only possible that time of year.

His mother was walking down the street, dressed in a wraparound black coat and a hat perched on one side of her head, with a long delicate feather arched above it. She was smiling and talking to one of her friends.

He wanted her to smile at him. He walked up to her. “Hi, Mother.”

She froze, and her smile turned brittle as if she were baring her teeth. She turned to her friend. “Go on ahead, I’ll catch up in a moment.” Waiting a long moment, she eyed him. “You know not to call me mother.”

He felt like someone punched him in the stomach. The way he always felt when he saw her. When he talked to her. “You’re my parent, though, aren’t you, Mother?”

She sighed, and her gaze searched the street as if she were looking for a way to escape. “You know I’m not.” She waved her hand. “The clan is here to give you anything you want. Or you can run off and prowl the woods. Soon enough, you’ll be a vulk and never think of this place again.”

Other children got in trouble if they didn’t go to school, but his teachers, the leaders of the clan, smiled at him, patted him on the head, and told him to do what he wanted. Maybe other kids were jealous, but he’d rather have someone care enough to yell at him.

“I’m tired of moving around all the time.” He swallowed hard, trying to get past the lump lodged in his chest. “Let me live with you. I’ll take care of the house. And I won’t call you mother.” Gritting his teeth, he added, “Please.”

Her expression grew cold, her eyes like ice. “Understand this. You aren’t my child. You are a vulk child. You’re different. Special. You must like that, right? Getting treated like a little prince. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. And everyone gives you whatever you want.”

Her gaze flitted to the street again. “The entire clan is your family. Not me. It’s better that way.” She adjusted her hat. Her stupid, ridiculous hat that he wanted to snatch off her head and rip into bits. “Enjoy your status here, then one day, you’ll run off and do your duty to protect Ulterra. It’s time you understood. Trust me, any sentimentality you may think you feel right now? You don’t. You’ll get past it. Vulk don’t have souls, and they don’t love. I’m not your mother. Now, run off.”

Something inside him died. She didn’t want him. She didn’t choose him. He hadn’t answered her. Instead, he’d run off into the woods for a few days, hoping to grow into a vulk as soon as possible.

Kyril gripped the side of Lilah’s desk, inhaling deeply.

He’d embraced his vulk life with open arms, but then Hans turned his back on him, too. Not that Kyril needed another reminder not to ever trust anyone, not to ever care about anyone, but if there had been any shred of affection, of caring about others, that existed inside him, it fully withered away.

That’s why he knew what he would do when the rune showed up. There was no mate for him. Not now. Not ever. He wasn’t giving yet another person the chance to not choose him.

He took a deep breath. Then another. It didn’t help soothe the clawing inside him.

Lilah entered her office, and Kyril rubbed his chest. Inside was a deep, raw wound. One he couldn’t heal. He gestured at the desk. “Do you need anything else?” He held up the grimoire. “I already grabbed this for you.”

She shook her head. “No.”

He jerked his chin toward the front door. “All right, let’s go.” As they walked together, he didn’t take her hand.

25

They walked out the front door, and Coromesto spread before them. Lilah sucked in a breath of the cool air. With the waning moons glittering overhead, the city appeared washed with white. Horseless carriages clattered over the cobblestones, and tall magic-powered lanterns lined the streets, shining buttery light over the roads.

Home.

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