“Why did you refuse Alana?”

Mordeu raised an eyebrow. The last reason Cillian gave did not sit right with him. Nevertheless, he would rather hear from Cillian than anyone else, whether he was going to die or not. Probably, it would make him feel much better if the reason for his death was coming from Cillian.

Under everyone’s eyes, Cillian rose to his feet and walked away, tugging on Mordeu’s robe as he walked right past him. Mordeu followed immediately after him. 

Cillian led him away into the woods. At the time, the sun was getting ready to lay her head to rest and give way to the nocturnal creature, the moon. Cillian walked in the woods, through the trees in silence. His marvelous face entertained a small, satisfied smile as his feet touched the fallen leaves on the ground.

At the moment, Mordeu cared less about the issues going on—whether he was meant to die by Cillian’s hands or not, which was starting to feel like unfathomable bliss, or whether he really was a menace to society. None of that seemed important. He was more invested in why Cillian was smiling as the wind played in his hair, why he looked satisfied with the smell of wood filling his nostrils, or why there was a vivid feeling of serenity hovering around him.

Mordeu was curious about those things just as he was curious as to how Cillian’s white skin felt like, especially against his own.

He choked on his saliva, tossing him into a coughing fit.

Cillian turned to him with a puzzled look on his face. “Did you breathe in an insect?”

Mordeu quickly shook his head. If he said that, it would be too embarrassing, but if he admitted what he really was thinking about, then that would be quite hypocritical.

“I thought of something,” he replied after coughing.

Cillian was curious. “What did you think of?”

Mordeu’s eyes darted around, thinking about what exactly in his list of questions he had for Cillian to ask at that minute. “Why are you a mateless wolf?”

Cillian chuckled. “It has a lot to do with the reason why my father and his friends are terrified of you.”

Mordeu quickly shook his head. “I don’t want to find out about that yet.”

Cillian chuckled again. “I thought so.”

“If you’re mateless, then what was your reason for refusing to marry Alana? Was it because you had recently found out you were mateless? Because she had told me the two of you were getting along quite well until the engagement ceremony?”

Cillian broke eye contact with him. “The narrative of my life is tied around your history.”

Mordeu shook his head. “I don’t think that’s the only reason. If that’s the case, then you are telling me, if it weren’t for what is expected of you, you would actually be with Alana right now, that in your heart, she lies there?”

“And what if I say that you’re right?” 

Mordeu scoffed unbelievably. “Impossible.”

Cillian laughed. “Why can’t you believe I can like Alana?”

Mordeu laughed as well. “I’m not saying you cannot.”

“I doubt it, that’s what you mean.” There was a smile on his face that warmed Mordeu’s cheeks. It calmed the strange anger in his heart at the thought of Cillian having the slightest bit of affection for Alana.

“You don’t like her. You don’t even like Kai.”

“Well, you’re right. I do not like Alana, but I like Kai. In fact, I love him.”

Mordeu stilled.

Cillian did not notice this. He kept on walking ahead, taking his time before he completed his sentence, but he realized the footsteps sounding beside him disappeared. He turned around, and behind, he saw Mordeu standing there, gazing at him with eyes he couldn’t decipher. He saw traces of anger, of melancholy, of disgust, of pain, but the ghost of a smile on his face seemed to make him believe that those emotions he thought he saw were only his imagination.

They had only just met. 

Though their lives were intertwined, they had only just met. 

Though they were destined to be either each other’s misfortune or happiness, they had only just met.

His hope for the latter was too brazen.

Cillian stood there, a smile on his face—one he tried hard to not mirror his inner thoughts but failed woefully—was attached to his lips. He was pleased by Mordeu’s reaction. “He’s like a brother to me.”

Mordeu breathed a sigh of relief and jogged to join Cillian. “For a moment there, I thought I must’ve accidentally referred to you as disgusting.”

Cillian chuckled. “You have nothing to worry about. Though I refused Alana, I hope after the war, I get to experience a life with a woman I grow to love.” He peered into Mordeu’s soul through his eyes. “I only desire a woman.”

Mordeu gulped at the intensity of the stare. Cillian was either trying to convince him or both of them of that fact. A part of him prayed it was the latter.

“So why did you refuse Alana?” 

“She just wasn’t the one for me. I just didn’t like her that way, no matter how much I tried,” he answered. “You seem very interested in the matter. Do you like Alana?”

“No, no, no, no,” Mordeu laughed. “I don’t. I was just curious about your reasons.”

Cillian nodded his head slowly. “Now you know them.”

Mordeu smiled. “Now I do.”

The night wind was still cold, but there was a brimming warmth in Mordeu’s heart—a particular, inexplicable felicity creeping into the walls of his countenance. 

There was no particular reason for this. The night had never pleasured him as much as the day did. The wind around was too cold for him. Mordeu preferred a slight heat and not the chilling wind that was engulfing him.

But at that moment, he wouldn’t have life any other way. 

At that moment, he was convinced that everything he had ever been through, every tear he had ever shed, every laughter that escaped his mouth—everything in this world had led him to that night.

“What are you smiling about?” Cillian’s voice came into his ears.

The smile on his face stilled for a while. He wasn’t smiling about anything in particular, just the thought of having this peace in his mind.

He couldn’t say all that, so instead he said, “Tell me about red wolves.”