X6

"Kael was always the master of a clean extraction, even as a young initiate," Selene remarked as we sat in the Emerald Den, the firelight casting long, dancing shadows against the stone walls. "I remember watching from the battlements—the ones overlooking the training pits—and seeing him accidentally stumble upon Liora Shawfang and... well, a sentry who certainly wasn't her betrothed. He didn't blink. He simply turned on his heel and vanished into the mist. I never saw him slip up or whisper a word of that ruinous secret."

She smoothed the heavy wool of her traveling furs, a rare sign of restlessness.

"And now you can lean on that same silence, Acacik. You look spent. We can't have you appearing before the High Council with the look of a haunted wolf, can we?"

I felt a pang of guilt. Selene was defying the laws of hospitality by harboring a 'deserter.' But my message to the Stormborn Citadel would clear her. My parents would just be relieved I hadn't turned feral or joined a scavenger pack in the wastes.

"I am holding onto my senses by a thread," I admitted. "I am retiring. My thanks for your grace, Selene."

I caught a glimpse of Fenris, the lead enforcer, in the stone corridor as I left. He gave a sharp, wordless nod.

I must have collapsed the moment I crossed the threshold of my suite. I had no memory of the attendants helping me shed my travel-worn clothes or the fire being stoked in the hearth.

When I woke, the room was dim, save for the aggressive morning sun fighting through the heavy velvet drapes. I sat up, my head heavy with the lingering scent of cedar and old magic.

A soft knock preceded Jessa. she entered bearing a tray of roasted meats and a flagon of spiced cider.

"The Elder’s master-at-arms sent over the riding leathers for you, Acacik. If you wish to test the fit before the sun is high, I can make the adjustments now."

The ride. I’d agreed to scout the borders toward the Lowfang Estate with Kael. It was exactly what I needed—the bite of the mountain air and the rhythmic thunder of hooves to drown out my thoughts.

"Let’s do it. Give me a moment to find my footing."

Jessa, her fingers nimble as she pinned the thick, reinforced leather of the riding doublet, muttered that the chest was broad but the waist was true. "It looks lethal on you, Acacik. A warrior’s silhouette."

"Perfect. You have my thanks."

I found Kael at the arched entrance of the Great Hall. As expected, Selene was nowhere to be seen; she rarely emerged before the sun reached its zenith.

"Morning, Acacik." Kael stepped back, his silver eyes tracking my movement with a predatory focus. We broke our fast at a heavy oak table while the servants brought out a spread of bison sausage, thick-cut bacon, and hearth-baked bread.

"I feel as though I haven't eaten since the last solstice," I confessed, tearing into the protein.

"It stands to reason," Kael said, eating with the disciplined efficiency of a soldier. "You burned a great deal of nervous energy during your flight. A wolf cannot run on spite alone."

"I find it hard to believe you ever suffer from nerves, Kael," I teased. "You look as steady as the mountain itself."

"A trick of the light," he shot back with a ghost of a smirk. "Underneath the ice, the water is always churning."

I laughed. "I don't know. Your hands look steady enough from here."

"Did the leathers fit? I am eager to see how those stallions handle the High Ridge."

My mother was obsessed with 'blood-rank.' She insisted on formal titles and ancient protocols, treating lower-ranking wolves as tools of the state. But I was done with that suffocating dance. I didn't want to look down on anyone. Kael made me laugh, and more importantly, he spoke to me like a man, not a contract.

"Just call me Acacik," I said. "The point of this journey was to stop being the 'Stormborn Heir' for a few hours." I held my breath, wondering if the breach of etiquette would offend him.

"Kael," he replied with a sharp, approving nod. "I prefer it that way. Want the bread?"

"The meat, Kael."

I was trying to place him. He didn't flinch at the drop of titles. He seemed as comfortable in these rugged leathers as he had in the fine silks of the previous night. He could be a high-born son without a crown, or perhaps a lord of a fallen house.

Shadowfang? The name carried a weight I couldn't quite pin down. I could ask Selene later. He wasn't wearing a mating band, at least...

"My mount should be ready within the hour," I said, killing that train of thought. "Shall we meet at the stables?"

"Agreed. It is a forty-minute gallop to the Lowfang border. I'll have the stable-hands check the shoes and pack some dried elk in the saddlebags."

I liked that he didn't offer some hollow courtier's compliment about my 'delicate frame.' I liked it even more when Kael gave me a genuine look of respect when my stallion, Nero, reared up under the stable arch, spooked by a mountain hawk.

"Fine handling," Kael noted as I brought the heavy beast back to earth, my thighs gripping his flanks until he settled.

"Foolish creature," I muttered, patting Nero's neck as the hawk circled above. "You’ve seen a bird before. Let's move."

I pulled up alongside Kael’s mount—a massive, iron-grey warhorse that looked like it had been bred for a siege.

"That is a serious beast," I said, nodding at his stallion. "Northern stock?"

"A hybrid," Kael said, his hand steady on the reins. "His sire was a stallion moved through the Yorclaw Highlands to avoid the Bloodfang raids years ago. This one, Juno, was a gift from a man who owed my father a blood-debt. He's got the endurance of a mountain goat and the heart of a lion."

"He looks like he cost a kingdom."

"He cost a friendship," Kael said softly, his expression turning distant.

I was about to press him, but Nero whinnied impatiently, his ears pinned back.

"Too slow for you?" I whispered to the horse, eyeing the long, treacherous stretch of the Northern Hunt Path ahead. I glanced at Kael, a challenge sparking in my eyes. "You don't seriously believe that iron-grey tank can outrun a Stormborn stallion on open ground, do you?"