Soren
Silverhide is gorgeous in the morning. Wispy fog snakes through the trees as I stomp through wet, almost shin high grass. The little cabin on the edge of the main part of the village is tucked in the shadow of a crop of trees, their leaves morphing to a bright yellowish green as they dry. Yeah, I feel the change in the air. That first jarring cold morning of the upcoming season. Fall is on the horizon, which means Lexa and Blake have been missing for almost a month.
It’s hard to believe it’s only been a year since Maeve and I found each other, thrust together as some joke of the Goddess. The joke’s on Her, however, because my mate is currently tucked tight in a bed we lovingly shared–naked–her scent all over my skin, just how I like it. Is She irritated that we made it through her trials, or is that what She wanted all along?
Our daughter, our precious demon of fire and wrath, blinks into the sunlit fog, gnawing on my shoulder and curling her little talons in my hair beneath the rising sun.
I’m a blessed man, I suppose. It could be worse. I could have power, like Blake. I could be the one battling some unseen force in an unfamiliar place. I could be the mate left behind.
Instead, I’m going to eat a warm breakfast before hanging out and hoping I can be useful in some way.
Ryan isn’t seated when I reach the pack house, which is never that busy in the early mornings. It’s mostly men in here now, grabbing a quick breakfast before heading back out to the harvest, which begins today. I came here two days ago, joining my mate after spending almost a week with Maddy, Isaac, and several other family members in Maatua–mostly children.
It was meant to be a vacation for Skye. Leona followed, as she always does, giving Marianna space to find her bearings. It’s been rough. Everyone is on edge, including Ryan, who looks so beaten and dragged that he barely looks up from his coffee when I approach a mostly empty table already stacked with food.
He nods, tilts his head to offer me a seat, and continues to brace a hand against the table while sipping from his coffee. He does give Fallon a quick smile that she skeptically accepts, however.
“I see how it is,” he grumbles playfully, and the smile that follows might be his first authentic one in a long time. “She’s in her stranger danger phase now, huh?”
“Well, you’re not a stranger. She’s just grumpy. She didn’t want to leave Maatua, I think.”
“No one does.” I sit across from him, and I notice he hasn’t touched the food.
Of course, I want to ask about Lexa but refrain. It’s none of my fucking business, but as a father to a daughter, I can only imagine how he’s feeling. Like the world has collapsed? Like he wants to set fire to the universe and watch it burn? Probably.
“Did Skye stay behind?” he asks.
“Yeah, as far as I know, she was going to travel back to Crescent Falls on the ferry with Leona later this week if the weather holds. Leona and Maddy aren’t in a rush to get back.”
“Sydney mentioned Marianna is–” He cuts himself off, looking down into his coffee.
“Yeah, she’s fucking miserable.”
Ryan bites back a flat, knowing smile. It’s not appropriate, but neither is my nonchalant attitude about all of this, I suppose.
“Thank you for talking to Logan for me while you were on the islands. I meant to find you last night after you arrived with everyone, but Maeve told me to give you a minute to adjust after the jump.”
“It’s not that bad once you’re used to it. I was more worried about letting go of Fallon and losing her in the aether.”
“Well, if she’s anything like her mother, she’ll be jumping on her own in a few weeks, anyway. We lost Maeve multiple times in her youth.”
Now, I’m the one biting back a smile as I shovel eggs and a variety of breakfast meats onto a plate. Fallon, still far too young to eat solid food, fists a piece of bacon like her life depends on it. Ryan raises a brow but doesn’t say a thing when Fallon sucks on the bacon, settling in my lap quietly.
“She looks like you,” Ryan muses, leaning back.
“I know. She really does.” I adjust her onto my other thigh. “I think Maeve is jealous, honestly, especially with Skye around, who is a mirror image of Marianna.”
“She’ll get one who looks like her. Nora is Aviva’s twin but with my easygoing personality, whereas Lexa…” He tapers off, his expression suddenly cast in shadow. “She’s her mother’s daughter even if she looks like me and Syd. Like Blake.” There’s something between the words I can’t decipher. A worry, I guess, that laces through each syllable.
“You think she’s okay?”
“Yes, she is.” He clears his throat, looking down at the worn surface of the table instead of meeting my eyes. “She’s like her mother. Lexa can focus on anything but her own fear and immortality. She’ll be fine.” I don’t like his tone. The note of… knowing. Yeah, that’s it. Like he knows something about Lexa that others don’t.
I don’t have to pry, thankfully, because I was about to, but then he continues. “Aviva is the best warrior in our kingdom by far. She’s always been that way. Just feral but calculated and meticulous. Her mind and body work in tandem, and she’s always four or five steps ahead of any enemy–beast or man.”
“Well, then you’re probably right, especially if Lexa and Aviva are similar.”
“But their hearts are as fragile as glass,” he whispers, drowning the words with coffee.
Fallon coos softly, and Ryan grins at her, but it’s damped by a grief I can’t describe.
“Aviva won’t return to Silverhide until there’s news of Lexa. I had to come back. The harvest begins today and will take up every waking moment over the next three weeks. I can’t miss it, even if it means leaving my mate alone to stitch herself back together. She’s stubborn and headstrong–immovable. Lexa is the same. And I know she’s all right. That’s my only consultation. But I also know she’d throw her life at a cause even if it meant she couldn’t return. She’d give her life to win whatever battle Blake is waging there; that’s my guess. I think Aviva knows it, too, and it’s brought back memories she’d rather not remember.”
“What do you mean?”
Ryan shrugs one shoulder, sighing deeply. “Aviva was Lexa’s age when we married. It was arranged, as you’ve probably come to understand. We didn’t know each other. Her father was desperate for the marriage, and I found out way after our fate had already been sealed. Aviva buries her emotions until there’s nothing left. She used hunting and sneaking off into the woods to help stomp out any residual emotion. She closed herself off, even to me, even when we bonded and realized we loved each other. It took her years–took her becoming a mother–for her to begin to open up, to say how she feels and vocalize what she really needs from me.”
Fallon wiggles, spitting out the slice of bacon on my lap and reaching her grubby, oily fists toward my plate. I ignore her when she snatches a sausage and curls it in her little hand.
Ryan continues, “Lexa grew up a mirror image of her mother personality wise, and I got a glimpse of who Aviva was as a child and how her mother’s death changed her. Lexa never had to go through what Aviva did. She has had more freedom to just be who she is, but I’ve worried about her for years. She wants to be fierce and unstoppable, and we’ve let her. My daughter is tough and talented. She has no dreams of settling down. But she hides her softness. She doesn’t say what she really wants, but I see it sometimes, especially between her and Nora. Lexa has a soft heart. She hides it. My only prayer at night has always been that she finds a mate who sees that in her.”
He plants his hands on the table with a deep sigh. “And I now know she had a fling with one of Evander’s captains in the Ghost army because his parents went to Teshka to retrieve his body,” he says, closing his eyes. “And she didn’t say anything, but his parents knew about her, about them. Apparently, he was head over heels. Witnesses say he died protecting her. I know in my heart she didn’t feel the same way about him.”
I roll my lower lip between my teeth, unsure what to say.
“I’m sorry,” he grumbles, running his fingers through his hair. “There’s no reason to be talking about this.”
“It’s fine. That’s kind of my sole purpose in the family as it stands. Maeve has been trauma dumping on me since the day I met her.”
His dark, stormy blue eyes meet mine and hold, a glimmer of mirth shining in the morning sunlight. A spirited giggle races through the room, however, and then Kieran is launching into Ryan’s arms.
Logan–tall, muscular, with dark hair and brilliant greenish-hazel eyes–follows but sits at the table instead of tackling Ryan, which is what Kieran is trying to do. Logan breathes deeply before turning to me with a slightly smug smile. I don’t know him well yet. He’s quiet but has a playful streak that only comes out when Brie’s around–and that woman hangs the moon for him. It’s obvious to everyone. He loves her.
And as of three days ago, when some of the family gathered in Maatua, he’s moving his entire pack from Emberfyll to the Deadlands.
“You’re right about the valley right there,” he says, pointing a finger into thin air to the west. “It wouldn’t take much to build a road that connects Silverhide to what I think I’ll have to call New Emberfyll.”
“I’m sure you can be more creative than that.” Ryan smirks, but there’s relief in his eyes. He raised Logan, turned a boy into a man–a warrior. An Alpha. Now, he’s coming home. Ryan is relieved, even if he won’t voice it.
“We have a few weeks to build. I think we can at least get some houses up and a pack house in that amount of time.”
“With the harvest going on, you’ll have extra sets of hands, for sure. Jerrod is already sending over at least two dozen of his men to help us out. I can spare a few of my own carpenters for you.”
Brie struts into the room, cradling the swell of her stomach. Another baby–another son, according to Maeve, who apparently knows everything. I believe her. “Where’s Maeve? It’s almost eight o’clock!”
“Do you think Maeve willingly wakes up with the sun?” I laugh, but Brie scoops Fallon out of my arms.
“Why is she so greasy?”
“Bacon,” Ryan says in a laugh, and Brie frowns, her voice lifting to chide me about how she’s too young, on and on, but I’m looking at the open door to the pack house, to the wide, sweeping valley of Silverhide, and beyond.
Blake, you fucking bastard, I think, grinding my teeth. Grief over the loss of a friend sweeps through me. He’s a real friend, as much as I hate to admit it, and I likely never will. Look at what he’s missing. Look at what he’ll miss if he truly believes he’s not worthy of this life, this kingdom, and us.