Page 69 of Unlikely Omega

Right.

That’s when I catch sight of the Drakoryas. A flash of something pale on one side, making the horse of one of the guards rear up and whinny. The creature looks like an animal in the strange darkness of the overcast sky, and I swear its eyes are glowing.

“Does it have magic?” I whisper, shaken, as it stalks away. “Did you see the glow?”

“I’m blind,” Finn says drily.

“Shit. Sorry.”

“He’s circling away,” the Commander says, still controlling his horse that’s trying to run away. “It’s fine.”

“Would a Drakoryas fight us?” I ask.

“Not usually,” Finnen says.

“Meaning?”

“Not unless he was hunting and we got in his way. We should stay clear of his hunting grounds.”

“How can we know the boundaries?”

“Play it by ear,” the Commander replies before Finnen can.

That simple.

I hadn’t expected a reply from him.

I grip the bars of the cage as we rattle on, the clouds hanging lower and lower over us. Berserkers. Drakoryas. The name is starting to ring a faint bell in my mind—a name from fairytales. Did my mother tell them to me before she gave me away? Did I hear them at the Temple growing up? Those memories are out of my reach.

Drakoryas the bogeymen, haunting the woods and dark nights, stealing babies from the cradle and attacking unsuspecting caravans between towns.

I try to catch another glimpse of the… man? Creature? Savage? But the night has swallowed him back up.

22

ARIADNE

We make camp at the foot of a steep hill as thunder rumbles overhead. There’s a small stone hut there, illuminated by flashes of lightning that tear through the sky, probably built by hunters or shepherds to protect themselves from the elements.

The men jump off their horses and tie them to a small scraggly tree. The Commander sends them to gather wood for a fire and see if they find a stream for water. I wonder if he’s still playing it by ear. How he’s sure the Wildman won’t mind. Then again, the storm is gathering, expanding, and soon will burst on top of us. I suppose he has to take the risk.

The coachman pulls on the reins and we roll to a stop. Despite the new set of clothes which are dry and thick, much warmer than my Temple robe, the wind cuts right through me. I huddle close to Finnen and he wraps an arm around me.

I like that he does that without thinking. I like it so much it scares me. I wonder if he realizes he does it at all.

His warmth seeps into me where I’m pressed to his side as his scent wraps around me like an embrace. If it restarts the pain in my belly, I’ll take it, because I need the comfort. I need the idea that he cares for me even if he won’t sleep with me, refusing to take away the pain of wanting him so badly.

Despite the fact that the Temple betrayed us, playing along with the Council, showing their true, ugly face.

The Commander dismounts and enters the hut, then comes back out to tie up his horse. I watch him, staring at his tall, muscular body, the tousled dark hair, and the spare, controlled movements that remind me of the way Finnen moves. Like a big cat, like a river flowing, all strength and confidence.

He pats his horse’s neck, talks quietly to the stallion for a long moment, his words snatched by the wind, then pats his pockets, maybe for his pipe—I’ve never seen him smoke but the tobacco entwined with his scent is too obvious a telltale sign—when I tense.

“What is this?” My skin prickles, my nipples stiffen, my core clenches—and it’s not funny, because the cramps in my belly almost double me over and I gasp.

“Ari?” Finn’s arm around me tightens. “What is it?”

I don’t know what to say, just as confused as he is by my body’s reaction. Need rises inside me, flaring like a column of fire, burning, scorching. I’m wet down below, so wet I know it will be embarrassing soon, once the pain stops and my pants show a big wet patch between my legs.

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