Valka
The storm begins at midnight and rages even harder, fiercer than normal. And it doesn’t co as a surprise when the captain heralds a stop to weather out the storm. Averis, our intended destination is an entire day’s journey away, and Lucien seems a little stiff-spined about the stop at the small fishing town called Grave’s Bay.
A set back, he calls it.
Eerie na aside, I just think he’s in a cranky mood because the deckhand and more than half the crew of n on the ship have taken no small pains in trying to stare my pants off my ass. He’s been broody the entire day and when I pointed it out, he said, "Restraint isn’t one of my virtues, Val. Forgive if it’s taking all of my energy not to peel those eyes from their sockets and stitch them to the deck where they can’t leer at you anymore."
How original.
My shoulder bumps into his playfully. "On the bright side, there’s a market. We can eat sothing other than stale bread and sour beer. And look, the storm’s clearing. It’ll only be for a couple of hours."
He grunts a non committal response and I roll my eyes, walking ahead of him.
The market beyond slls of smoked fish and pine tar. A small world, harmless. Children dart between stalls, laughter thin against the wind. It feels... safe. Ordinary. A little girl with big brown eyes stops by my side and grabs my pinky finger, tugging forward, towards a stall with cute little daggers and sword belts.
I look back at Lucien, unable to hide my grin, and he sighs heavily, before handing his pouch of gold. But his lips twitch at the corners, eyes softening fondly. "I’d say save so for later, but you always did have an interesting spending habit."
My fingers close around the red velvet. "Well, it does help that my husband is quite wealthy."
By the ti we begin the trek back to the shoreline, the sun is disappearing down the skies, Lucien’s broody frown is gone, replaced by an amused smile as he carries everything I’d deed important enough to spend all his money on in one arm.
"One more stop," he says, fingers entwining mine, and I let him pull along, towards a stall with trinkets and charms on the edge of the market.
I stare wide-eyed at the assortnts of moon pearls, shell pendants, and opals glimring under the soft light of day. Each one looks alive, like it’s breathing salt and sunlight. His gaze catches on an opal that shifts color with every tilt, blue to green to the faintest rose. My fingers rise to the necklace already hanging around my throat.
"You don’t have to get another," I murmur. "I love this one."
Lucien’s mouth twitches. "You say that now."
He signals to the stall keeper, who fumbles beneath a heap of trinkets and dust for the necklace.
"In the our old ways," he says, "when a man chooses his Erasthai, he begins a courtship that isn’t built on words but offerings. Gifts of aning. The first is usually sothing found, a token that reminded him of her. The second, sothing bought, a promise that he will provide. And the third..." His eyes et mine, steady and unguarded. "The third is sothing he’s made with his own hands. It’s ant to show devotion. Effort. A piece of himself, offered to hers."
Oh. "And what does she give in return?"
"If she accepts," he says softly, "she offers sothing made by her, too. A al, a stitch of clothing, a charm--anything. It’s her way of saying she sees him, and she’s not turning away."
He reaches beneath my hood, thumb catching under my chin, tilting it just enough for to see him clearly. "I gave you gifts after the wedding," he murmurs, his voice roughening. "You threw them all away."
My breath stutters. Right. I was pissed about him marking . I hadn’t known it was more than an apology.
My heart’s doing flips in my chest. Did he have to pull any harder on my heart’s strings?
"So I’ll try again," he continues. "And maybe, when the war ends and we’re not running anymore, you’ll make sothing in return. A al. Or a scarf." His smile is faint, but his eyes burn with quiet intent. "And I’ll take that as your yes."
I swallow, throat tight. "I don’t know how to... cook. Or knit."
His fingers curve on my cheek. "It doesn’t have to be perfect. So long as your hands made it, I’d take it. I’d take anything you gave , Val--burnt bread, a crooked stitch, a scrap of nothing. So long as it ant I crossed your mind, even for a heartbeat."
"You do," I whispers before I can stop myself. The words hang between us, raw and electric, and when his eyes darken with quiet satisfaction, I looks away swiftly, cheeks red as I pretend to study the sea.
I think every ti Lucien opens his mouth, I’ll always be the shade of tomatoes. I didn’t understand what it was about that made him so interested. On so days, I fear that his feelings for are all that make special.
He turns hand the stall keeper a few coins and in tipping back and forth on my toes like a child, I nearly trip and bump into soone, hard.
"Oh, I’m sorry--"
It happens in a second.
Sothing cold clasps around my neck with a click and an invisible fog falls over my senses. Two words are spoken roughly against my ear as the sharp edge of a blade pushes into my pulse, drawing blood. "Don’t move."
Lucien whirls.
Everything stops.
The noise of the market, the chatter, the hum, the laughter, it all drains away like the tide retreating from shore.
His eyes find mine.
That’s when the first arrow hits. It whistles past Lucien’s ear and embeds itself into the stall post behind him. I scream as a dozen more follow, missing their mark on him. And I know they aren’t aid to kill him, not yet, but to keep him away from , to keep the distance so he never breaches the gap to grab .
The townspeople scatter, screaming, as figures in grey furs pour from the treeline, fast, silent, organized. Wolves.
An ambush. We’re surrounded. And it doesn’t make sense. There were no ships on the docks announcing their arrival. Lucien had look, had been paranoid in the first hour, enough to keep his gaze coasting over there again and again.
Except they’ve been there all along and we were too lost in our worlds to notice the enemy waiting.
Lucien takes in the approaching enemy, his eyes calculating, and his voice is low and lethal as they hone back on . On the male holding . "Let her go."
"Another," the man rasps, dragging several feet back. "and I’ll bleed her dry before you blink."
Lucien’s jerks to a stop as the blade at my throat plunges even deeper, pushing against my pulse. I feel the sting, the bead of blood trickling down to the hollow of my collarbone. The man behind slls like steel and wolf. The press of tal around my neck tightens, biting through skin and power alike. It burns like fire.
My eyes widen upon the realization that there is a collar on my neck. A silver collar. Everything alive under my skin is subrged under that fog and I try to reach within for my powers. And fail.
Panic swells inside and I claw at it, jerking my elbow back to dislodge the male’s grip, but his knee rams into my spine with such force, my body jerks forward wickedly. Heavy, rhythmic footsteps approach and my world reduces to the low, amused laughter that rakes up my spine.
"For a mont there, I thought I might keel over and die from how disgustingly happy you both looked."
Rafael.
Heavy footsteps echo behind and I see them. Feel them behind . Guards. Tons of them, surrounding . My heart stops dead when Rafael prowls forward, halting beside , a dark smile etched on his lips. "It’s been unbelievably difficult to catch you both. I had to pay a visit myself."
I don’t know where to look first at the people who step forward beside him. The deckhand nursing a bag of gold in his hands.
Or Lilith, whose lips curve into a slow, rueful smile.
Lucien goes very still. "Ah," he says softly. "So it’s treachery, then."
The air changes. The wind hisses through the stalls, turning to ice. Clouds roll over the dying sun, swallowing the light. Lucien’s shadow stretches long and black across the sand, eyes flaring like molten steel. "Let. Her. Go."
Rafael chuckles. "Making demands, I see. You mustn’t understand the situation quite yet." Rafael nods to the guard on the left of and in a split second, a sword is driven into my side.
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