Kenna
Evander steps closer, but I’m still draped in my shadow. I love this power of mine, honestly. It’s my favorite of the arsenal of magic that dwells in my veins. I can just… disappear, or harness the power and turn myself into a writhing mass of the darkest kind of shadow and cause all kinds of chaos, but I’ve never done that.
Blending into the shadows? Yes. All the time.
But Evander can see me. He crouches in front of me, knitting his fingers together while resting his elbows on his knees.
“Your uniform looks stupid,” I grumble.
“I’ve been told women love men in uniform.”
“You look like an underfed dragon.” It’s true, in my defense. Black, thick fabric envelopes him from his neck to the tips of his toes–every inch of him covered in strange scales of a depthless onyx. Leather armor covers his chest, forearms, and thighs. It hugs them like a glove, which makes sense, given that all of this is possible because of a pair of black gloves.
Ghost armor is incredibly complex, and only the highest ranking warriors in the Ghost army have it. The armor makes it impossible for enemies to pick up their scent, is impenetrable, and can turn to a full coat of armor if they shift from human form to wolf form, and back again.
I only know this because I was there the day my Uncle Isaac unveiled the first prototype in my father’s office. Sydney and Ryan had come to Eastonia with him, and all three of us watched our fathers marvel over what Isaac had been able to create with the raw materials Dad supplied from some mystical mine in the Roguelands.
Uncle Isaac has unique powers of manipulation. He can unlock anything. He can forge anything.
“A dragon?” Evander huffs, his eyes meeting mine despite my shadow. “Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“Is there a reason you're out here pouting in the woods and not letting the villagers pepper you with compliments and gifts for saving one of their own? I know you like gifts. And especially, compliments.”
“If you came out here to tease me, you can leave.”
“It's my job–”
“I don’t care if it's your job to follow me around. I want to be alone right now so I can cry and try to catch my breath in peace, just for a minute.”
“I wanted to make sure you were all right,” he says. “That's all.”
“I’m fine. I just need a moment to get back in control of my powers.”
“Okay,” he says.
“Okay,” I echo, sniffling.
He rises and backs away but sits several yards from me with his back turned in my direction.
I’m not sure how long we sit here like this, with me staring at the back of his golden head and him quietly picking pieces of grass and weaving them together. But eventually, my heart stops racing, my mind clears, and soon that flight or fight feeling that sends my powers into a tailspin eases enough for me to let my shadow power dissolve around me like wisps of smoke.
“It’s impressive, you know,” Evander says from several yards away. “The way you can just disappear into nothing.”
“You can see me still, so I wouldn’t say I’m completely invisible.”
“Well, the shadow does nothing to hide your voice or your whimpering, so…”
I huff a breath. He’s right. I should work on that. But… “I don’t care what you think of me, Evander. I want to get home as much as you want to be rid of me, so let’s not sit here and pretend like we’re eight again and you’re teasing me relentlessly for no reason.”
He’s silent for several moments. I wait on pins and needles for his response. He used to be so witty–so sharp and cunning with his words. I remember several instances where he left our fathers speechless after he pleaded our cases when we got in trouble for being absolute menaces to society as kids, and we got away with it more often than not.
But he only says, “You didn’t kiss Flynn at the ball.”
I blink, having forgotten I’d even said anything about my kiss. “Oh–”
“The village would like to thank you, you know. They’re setting up a party in the town square. There’s going to be food, and dancing. Everything you like. It’s a celebration for you and the mother.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“I… might be spying through mind-link.”
I frown. “You can do that?”
“Not as well as Flynn,” he admits. “It’s part of our training, though. The average wolf isn’t nearly as guarded as the people in power I’m normally working with–or against…. It’s easy to tap in. Someone is saying something about chocolate cake with… raspberry icing–”
I’m on my feet in a second flat, and Evander chuckles, rising and dusting off his fancy, ridiculously expensive armor.
But I hesitate leaving the private, sheltered sanctuary of the woods.
Evander keeps his distance, but I can feel his gaze boring into the side of my face as he says, “You’ve been given a room at the local inn. It’s a nice place, I scoped it out already. Some of the local village women have laid out clothes for you to change into, since those are… bloody.”
I look down, realizing I’m still in my jeans and what was once a white shirt. The events of leaving Crescent Falls are a blur. It feels like a lifetime ago that Evander and I were involved in a high speed chase. In less than twenty four hours, I nearly died, spirited to Eastonia, delivered a baby, and saved a woman’s life.
“What else do you know about the cake?” I ask, finally looking at him.
* * *
Night falls over the village of Tiscoln. I’ve been making the rounds–splitting my time between checking on Elsie and her baby girl and conversing with the ever curious and mystified villagers. I’ve learned that Tiscoln itself is small, and most of the people who call this place home are spread throughout the nearby mountains, coming to this village to trade goods and commune with each other.
It's very… how do I explain it? I’ve never met people like this before–people so in tune to their wolfish sensibilities. In fact, most everyone is in their wolf form as the celebration continues on into the night. It’s like these people have been trapped in a place lost to time, locked within the veil, and they had to resort to an older way of life to survive.
It’s a full moon too, so no wonder everyone is shifting.
My social battery runs low rather quickly. I take a cup of mead down to a creek that runs along the far side of the village while music and livery continues in the background. Lantern light reflects off the water's surface as I sit on the banks, dipping my bare toes in the cool water.
I sip honeysuckle mead and listen to the music, finally letting my mind adjust to our peculiar situation. Evander has been mostly gone all evening, talking to various men and wolves about what I assume has to do with where we are and how we can get to the Roguelands.
He hasn’t asked me to jump again. I doubt he will, given that fact I brought us all the way here. I have no idea how to tell those powers of mine where to land.
The mead is a calming presence in my system, but my powers are stronger right now than they usually are because of the moon. I need a moment to clear my head.
But I also knew Evander will find me if I walk out of sight, so I’m not surprised when his footsteps sound out behind me, and he stops a few feet away.
I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder. He’s dressed in a pair of dark pants that hug his legs more than they should. He probably borrowed them from someone, and given that fact he towers over most of the men here, it was probably the best they could do. His shirt, however, fits him like a glove as he sighs and edges closer, sitting down beside me.
“What was that sigh for?” I ask lightly before taking another sip of mead.
“Am I not allowed to breathe in your presence, Kenna?”
I glare at him, but his sly smile does something to soften my heart toward my old friend.
I roll my eyes back to the creek. “So, what’s the plan, then?”
“There’s a road system that leads out of the mountains, but it’s treacherous this time of year. There’re a few river crossings we need to worry about, but I’ve been assured the people of these mountains are generally friendly.”
“So we’re going on foot?”
“I’ll shift, and you’ll ride on my back, unless you want to give shifting a try.”
I swallow back the sharp, “NO!” that springs to mind.
“You don’t have to shift. Carrying you isn’t an issue.”
“I’m not too heavy?”
“You’re rather heavy, but I’ve been through worse.”
I glare at him again, but it’s obvious he’s just teasing and… for the first time in many, many years, a glimpse of the funny, witty personality he must have buried deep down is coming to the surface.
“Your mouth is the reason you haven’t found your mate yet,” I quip, offering him my cup of mead. “You’ve always had a sharp tongue. Maybe if you were nicer, women would be more interested in getting to know you.”
“I already told you I’m not looking for my mate or anything like that.”
“Why not?”
His brows pinch together. “Why do you care?”
“Because your wife, or mate, will be the High Lady of Veiled Valley, like your mom is until we take over. You need to have one, eventually.”
“My lifestyle isn’t conducive to maintaining close personal relationships–”
“But it will be. Really soon, actually. You and I are supposed to take over in… just a few weeks, you know.”
He looks down at me, his eyes the color of raw emeralds in the dim lantern light. “What would you do if you didn’t have to be Luna of Veiled Valley?”
I sigh heavily and rope my arms around my knees. “I’d be a midwife.”
He chuckles softly. I look at him at just the right moment, catching the brief smile that touches his lips. Gods, he’s so handsome when he smiles. That flicker of something like a crush comes to life in my chest again.
“You are already a midwife.”
“Yeah, but… I can’t be a midwife and run a pack the size of Veiled Valley.”
“If you had–” he cuts himself off abruptly.
But I know what he was about to say.
“If I had my mate, or at least someone equivalent to rule beside me, I’d have time. I know.”
Evander says nothing for a long time. I let the silence fall between us, enjoying the momentary quiet. We haven’t spoken like this in years. I never thought we would again. He used to know all of my hopes and dreams, and now?
“I’d like you to be settled at the inn soon,” he says after several minutes. “Cleo and her mate have warned me about how rowdy things are going to get once the moon is high, and I don’t like the idea of you being out here–”
“I’m ready to go now,” I tell him. He’s right. That slight, ever present pull I feel toward my wolf is sharper right now, and I’m not sure if the strange, electric sensation in my body has to do with my wolf or if it’s because Evander is here, and we’re talking like the old friends we used to be. But I’m tired, and tomorrow sounds like the beginning of a long journey.
I follow Evander through the town and what remains of the party. I check on Elsie one last time. She’s fine and surrounded by family and friends.
Finally, I let Evander lead me upstairs at the inn, which is rather loud and lively as those who haven’t shifted gather inside for drinks and music, but the hallways and rooms upstairs are more subdued.
My room is nothing more than a bed, a dresser, and a wash basin. I came here to change into the flowy, cream colored dress that brushes my ankles and shows off a rather large amount of cleavage, the look rounded out by slightly puffy long sleeves that taper at the wrists and a cinched waist.
In the darkness, however, the room feels plain and empty–and surprisingly cold.
“Goodnight,” Evander says, moving toward the door.
“Wait,” I say, fighting the urge to reach out and grab his arm. “Where are you sleeping tonight?”
“Outside your door.”
“What?”
“I’ll be right in the hallway in my wolf form. It’s the safest option–”
“You’re going to sleep on the floor?”
“Of course, where else would I sleep?”
“In here. With me. There’s plenty of room in the bed.”
The look he gives me rattles me to my core. I feel my breath catch in my throat as he says, “I can’t sleep in the same bed as you, Kenna.”
“Why not?”
Again, the intensity in his look does something to my body–setting every nerve on fire. I sense something… off. Something shifts between us, and a scent tickles my nose faintly, but enough for me to catch a hint of leather and vanilla.
“You didn’t kiss Flynn at the ball,” he rasps.
“Then who did I kiss?”