Ceren glanced at Lothar to see him watching them intently, his expression shadowed in the firelight. What did he think of the tenderness Lorcan was showing the Light Queen? He didn’t yet know they were Bound … he had been unconscious when they’d made the decision and left his room to complete the ceremony. Ceren hadn’t known whether she should tell him or not, and had decided to stay quiet about it, for now at least.
But she was just as disarmed by the way Lorcan hovered over Evelayn as Lothar seemed to be; if she didn’t know better, she would have thought he truly cared for the queen, and not just as a means to an end.
Once he made sure she was settled, Lorcan looked up at them. “Now would you like to explain what in the name of Darkness the two of you are doing here? Shouldn’t you be in bed recovering?” He pinned Lothar with his searing gaze first, then Ceren. “And what of your younglings—and your Mate?”
“You can’t keep leaving me behind,” Lothar said before Ceren could speak.
“You were unconscious!” Lorcan retorted sharply. “And now you’ve left the kingdom in Mother’s hands.”
Lothar grimaced at Lorcan’s words. Ceren hadn’t even thought about the fact that the dowager queen would no doubt wonder what had become of her sons. What would she do when their absence became known?
“Why did you come?” Evelayn’s feeble question broke through the sudden tension between the brothers. Ceren went to her friend and knelt down on the cold ground beside her.
“I saw them leaving to follow you”—she nodded toward Tanvir and Letha, who had remained quiet throughout the exchange—“and knew it couldn’t be a good thing. Especially since they were fully armed. Lothar had healed enough to come in search of us all, but he only found me, and insisted he was going after them. I was afraid he wouldn’t be strong enough, so I went with him. And here we are.”
“And now you must return to the castle. We can’t all go on,” Lorcan announced.
“Evelayn is injured. You can’t possibly think of continuing this quest now—let alone just the two of you.” Ceren met his challenging gaze across Evelayn’s prone body.
“We have to,” Evelayn said softly, reminding them that she was still awake. “It’s my only hope of ever regaining our power.”
“You’re in no condition!” Ceren protested, which was only punctuated by yet another bout of coughing that caused Evelayn to stiffen in pain.
“The fire is dying down. I’ll go collect some more wood,” Letha suddenly offered, rising to her feet.
Lorcan glanced at her speculatively. “Lothar, go with her and make sure she keeps her word—and returns as quickly as possible.”
Ceren glanced at the younger of the two brothers to see if he would balk at the order, but he just nodded and gestured for Letha to lead the way.
Mere moments after their departure, snowflakes began to spiral toward them from the darkness above. Lorcan glanced up, inhaling deeply. “It’s going to be another blizzard, I’m afraid.”
Ceren could scent the incoming storm as well, the biting frost and driving snow blowing toward them on the breeze that lifted her hair and sent a chill through her body, even with the fire and her warm clothing.
“If we don’t keep moving, we’ll never reach the l—” Lorcan cut himself off with a sharp glance at Tanvir. “The goal,” he substituted quickly, “before the end of Athrúfar.”
“You most certainly will not reach any goal in time if you try to take her by yourself. I will accompany you.” Tanvir spoke for the first time.
“There’s no chance in all the burning fires of Ifrinn you will,” Lorcan bit out in return. “You and your sister are not getting within two body lengths of Evelayn ever again.”
“Are you planning on carrying her wherever you are traveling to? Because you might want to take a long hard look at your traveling companion. She’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”
“And how would letting you assist me change that?”
Both of the males’ rising tempers cast a cinders-and-ash scent to mingle with the already potent morass of Evelayn’s pain, the oncoming storm, and the smoke from the fire.
“I am not dead yet,” Evelayn cut in, albeit weakly. “Ceren, help me.” She reached out for her.
“Help you what?”
“Sit up, you ninny.” Evelayn grasped her hand and began to attempt to pull herself up. When she lifted her head, she emitted a small yip of pain but quickly schooled her features into a mask of composure again, as she had so many times before when concealing her true emotions.
“Ev, stop this. You need to rest and heal,” Ceren argued, even as she reached out to brace her.
“Lorcan is right. There’s no time. I will have to heal while we continue on.” With more than just a little effort and help, she finally sat up.
Lorcan watched the entire thing silently, a muscle ticking in his jaw. But Ceren knew him well enough now to recognize the dismay in his hooded eyes. He knelt down on her other side and took her other hand in his. Ceren felt a draw of power but nothing happened.
“What are you doing now?” Evelayn asked, sounding exasperated.
“You know what I’m doing,” he replied steadily.
“Lorcan, stop it. You’re just going to drain yourself. It’s one thing to loan me strength, but healing?”
Ceren and Tanvir shared a look of confusion. He apparently had no idea what the king and queen were talking about, either. Despite her protests, Evelayn let her eyes close momentarily, until Tanvir spoke again.
“Look, you’ve made remarkable time so far,” Tanvir admitted. “But she can barely sit up, let alone walk or run. How much farther is your destination? What was so vitally important that you Bound yourself to him and then left the castle in Abarrane’s hands—immediately after that terrible attack?”
Ceren watched as Evelayn struggled to control her ragged breathing, to hide the pain that made her violet eyes turn indigo in the flickering firelight. She glanced to Lorcan, who shook his head infinitesimally, but she ignored him and responded, “We’re going back to Máthair Damhán’s lair.”
Tanvir stared at her in open disbelief. “By the Light, you truly do have a death wish, don’t you. Why would you ever return there?”
“Evelayn.” Her name was a low growl, a warning of sorts from Lorcan.
She squeezed Ceren’s hand tightly, to bolster her confidence or because of another wave of pain, she wasn’t sure.
“Why are you both going back to the White Peak—and why is it so urgent?” Tanvir repeated. “Why did you return now, after all these years, only to leave again?”
There was a long, breathless pause while they waited for Evelayn to respond—even from Lorcan, which shocked Ceren.
“What in the name of the Light would make you wish to return to Máthair Damhán? And with him?” Tanvir pressed, his gaze slicing toward Lorcan, then back again. “This is another trap, Evelayn, can’t you see—”
“No, it’s not.” She cut him off. “We’re going to Máthair Damhán because she has my conduit stone. And we’re going to get it back.”
THE NEXT MORNING DAWNED CLEAR AND BITTERLY cold. It had snowed throughout the night, as Lorcan had predicted, turning the world around them pristine white, hiding the ugliness of the dying forest. Evelayn’s breath crystallized on the brisk air, puffing into small clouds every time she exhaled as she forced herself to sit up without assistance, even though it was agony to jar her neck in any way. She’d never realized until now just how much her neck was involved in practically any movement she made. When she reached up to touch the rough stitches, she was happy to realize her skin wasn’t as puffy as it had felt hours earlier. Perhaps Lorcan’s assistance had helped after all. The swelling and inflammation were going down—a huge relief, as she’d overheard Letha murmuring to Tanvir about the possibility of infection before they’d fallen asleep.
Despite his efforts to assist in her healing, Lorcan had eventually agreed that Evelayn needed to rest if she was going to be i
n any condition to continue onward, and elected to let them all sleep through the night. Using his power to help her heal must have drained him more than he’d been willing to admit. She’d tried to insist she could push through the pain and exhaustion, but he’d surprisingly taken Tanvir and Ceren’s side. When Lothar and Letha had returned with more wood, they’d built up the fire once more, and they’d all dug in for the night, curling into their cloaks, huddling close to the fire for warmth.
It was little more than a pile of smoking embers now—only a small tendril of smoke still curled lazily up toward the blue sky above.
Evelayn’s neck throbbed, and she had to fight a bout of dizziness when she rose to her feet, but she was much better than the previous night. When she glanced around at her companions, she wasn’t surprised to see Lorcan awake, watching her silently, his silver eyes disconcerting in the iridescent morning light. She was surprised, however, to realize one of their number was gone. A quick look revealed it to be Lothar.
“Where did he go?” she whispered, conscious of the others who were still sleeping.
Lorcan lifted a shoulder. “He left a while ago” was his low response. “But I believe he is coming back as we speak.” He jerked his chin toward the forest behind her.
She turned but didn’t see anything—at first. Then something moved in the distance. At least she thought she saw something move. Evelayn squinted to sharpen her eyesight, and sure enough she caught the movement again. But whatever it was definitely wasn’t a Draíolon. A massive creature, as white as the snow around it, silently stalked toward them. Her heart leapt in her chest, furiously pumping adrenaline into her system alongside her blood. She looked over her shoulder at Lorcan in panic, disregarding the spike of pain that shot from her neck up into her skull from the motion.
But Lorcan remained where he was, an expression almost like amusement making his lips twitch.
Evelayn spun back to the coming beast, unsure why Lorcan was so nonchalant, when the reason suddenly dawned on her. The beast came close enough now for her to see that the massive animal was a snow bear—a powerful, deadly creature carrying a limp deer in his mouth. She watched in awe as he silently worked his way through the trees and ultimately stopped a few lengths from them to set his prey down on the snow. And then, in a whirl of dark smoke and a rush of power that brushed her skin like a long-forgotten song whose melody she could almost remember, the bear was gone and Lothar stood before them, his skin flushed and his gray eyes bright.
A snow bear, a hawk, a leopard. Agile, fierce, swift animals. All fit for royalty. All except her. As much as she loved the swans, she couldn’t help but wonder why—why had she imprinted on the swans rather than any of the other, more magnificent options?
“What are we supposed to do with that?” Lorcan asked, looking at the dead deer with one eyebrow raised.
“Eat it.” Some of the light went out of Lothar’s eyes, but he quickly knelt in the snow, pulling a knife out of his belt. Evelayn swallowed her nausea and turned away as he made the first cut to begin skinning the animal.
“It seems a waste to slaughter such a large animal when we won’t be able to consume it all.”
Evelayn wondered why Lorcan couldn’t scent the bitter tang of Lothar’s disappointment on the cold morning air, where moments earlier it had been sweet with his pride.
“I thought we could eat some this morning and cut the rest into strips to cook and take with us. We’ll need more food to sustain us on a journey this long.” Lothar spoke without looking up.
Lorcan opened his mouth to reply, but Evelayn rushed to cut him off. “I think that is a wonderful idea. Thank you, Lothar.”
Lorcan shot her a questioning glance but mercifully didn’t contradict her. Though Lothar was only a few years younger than his brother—and quite a few years older than she—he often deferred to his brother as if he were a youngling and not the powerful prince he ought to have been. And if Evelayn wasn’t mistaken, it was all in an effort to please Lorcan, to somehow win his approbation or favor. She wasn’t entirely sure the reason why, but she was certain that she was close to the mark on her supposition.
“Lorcan, will you help me build the fire back up?” she asked now, drawing his attention away from his brother.
The king of Dorjhalon met her gaze with slightly narrowed eyes, but got to his feet and crossed to stand beside her, bending so his mouth was close to her ear.
“What was that about?” he murmured, his warm breath tickling her ear.
“Can’t you see how badly he wishes to please you?” she responded, her voice barely a whisper.
Lorcan straightened to look past her, to where his brother knelt, working diligently on the deer. The coppery smell of blood filled Evelayn’s nose and turned her stomach, but she refused to let Lothar realize that she didn’t enjoy meat much, if at all. Not when he’d been so pleased with himself for providing for all of them, until his brother’s lack of appreciation had deflated him.
“Indeed” was all Lorcan said, and then he bent to pick up the last of the wood he had collected the night before and kept protected underneath a large bush. For the first time, Evelayn noticed he wore no tunic, his muscular torso completely exposed in the cold. The scars she’d seen once before were even more horrifying in the illuminating morning light, the discolored stripes of ruined flesh crisscrossing all over his skin. But somehow, they didn’t take away from the beauty of his body or the power he exuded.
“No, I’m not cold,” he said before she could say anything, though that wasn’t at all what she’d been thinking. Her cheeks heated when she realized she’d been caught staring. But then he shivered slightly, and he added, “Not very cold, at least.”
“Where’s your top? And your cloak?” She forced herself to meet his eyes as he placed the dry wood on the pile of embers and sent a small blast of his power at it, turning the fuel into fire almost immediately.
“The tunic was used to stop your bleeding,” he said matter-of-factly. “And I put my cloak on you during the night when you were shivering in your sleep.”
“Oh.” Evelayn glanced down at the flames, her fingers going to her neck once more, to the wound that ached with each pump of her heart. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for. I gladly would have given up all my clothes to save your life, if necessary.”
Evelayn’s eyes flew up to meet his again, aghast to realize her cheeks burned with a shocked blush. He smirked at her, one eyebrow raised in amusement. He was … jesting? Was he even capable of such a thing?
“I’m fairly certain I could have lived my entire life without knowing that.” Ceren’s sleepy voice jarred Evelayn back to the awareness that they weren’t alone.
“I believe we all could have.” Tanvir spoke up as well, though he didn’t sound nearly as drowsy, making Evelayn’s blush intensify, wondering just how long he’d been awake, eavesdropping on them. She glanced over to find Tanvir staring at her, his golden eyes ablaze with jealousy. Her stomach twisted, a gut reaction to feeling as though she was doing something wrong by allowing herself any kind feelings toward Lorcan, especially with Tanvir mere feet away, listening, watching. She’d loved him with her whole heart, had even pledged her body and soul to him.
And now she was suddenly Bound to Lorcan instead, a male she barely knew.
You have nothing to feel guilty about, she reminded herself. Tanvir had lied to her, had manipulated and betrayed her. The male she’d thought she loved, whom she’d made the oath of intent to, didn’t exist.
“Here,” Lothar said, a welcome intrusion to the sudden tension in the air. “Start cooking this while I prepare the rest of the meat.”
He tried to hand the bloodied flesh to Evelayn, but she blanched, her stomach turning in on itself. “I—I think I need to sit down and rest a bit more,” she stammered lamely. Luckily, he didn’t question her, and turned to Lorcan instead as she slowly lowered herself to the ground again.
The king took the me
at without comment, but when Evelayn shot him a look, a muscle ticked in his jaw and he cleared his throat. Then, “Thank you, Loth. This was very … thoughtful of you.” The words seemed a strain for him to say. But Evelayn didn’t miss the smile that broke out across Lothar’s face as he ducked his head away from his brother, trying to hide his pleasure.
“Once that finishes cooking, we can eat it while the rest of the meat cooks. Then we should be ready to head out before the sun finishes rising.” Lothar picked up his knife and got back to work.
Evelayn watched as Lorcan skewered the meat on some thin, sharp branches that he propped over the fire, using other pieces of wood and rocks to create a makeshift spit.
“You don’t have to eat it,” Lorcan murmured for her ears only as he sat down beside her.
She was all too aware of Tanvir’s sharp gaze on them, but she smiled gratefully at Lorcan, pleased he had been observant enough to recognize her initial distaste. However, as the aroma of sizzling meat wafted through the forest, the fat popping and spitting over the flames, she unexpectedly found her stomach gurgling in hunger.
“Perhaps I will have a little, after all,” she admitted. “Just to keep my strength up,” she added, feeling the need to justify her decision for some reason.
“Of course,” Lorcan agreed.
As the others gathered around the fire, the meat finished cooking and they all ended up eating it, even Ceren. Evelayn was surprised at how much better she felt with a full stomach.
Not long after, Tanvir strode over and tossed something at Lorcan.
“In case you don’t wish to go before Máthair Damhán half-naked.”
Lorcan picked up the item and revealed it to be a crumpled-up tunic. Evelayn had to smother a smile when he gave Tanvir a curt nod and pulled it on. He was taller and more broad, so it was a bit of a tight fit, but better than nothing, she supposed.