Chapter 42

Chapter 42: Chapter 42

The stream glittered in the lantern light, silver and black and utterly beautiful.

Soren held the lantern high as they made their way through the darkness, his free hand wrapped firmly around Nyra’s. The forest was quiet now no howls, no rustling leaves, no sign of the rogues that had hunted them earlier. Just the soft crunch of their footsteps on the moss and the distant murmur of running water.

"Almost there," Soren said.

"You said that ten minutes ago."

"Because we’re almost there."

"You said that ten minutes ago too."

"And we were almost there then. We’re even more almost there now."

Nyra laughed despite herself. "That doesn’t make any sense."

"I’m the Sword Sovereign. I don’t need to make sense."

They emerged from the trees, and the stream opened before them. It was wider than Nyra had expected a small river really, its surface smooth as glass, reflecting the stars and the crescent moon overhead. The water rushed softly over smooth stones, and the bank was soft with moss and wild ferns.

"Wow," Nyra breathed. "How did you find this?"

"I saw it on my way back. After I killed the rogues." Soren set the lantern down on a flat rock near the water’s edge. "I thought you might want to wash off. The blood. The sweat. The forest."

"It’s beautiful."

"It’s cold."

"Still beautiful." She knelt at the edge and dipped her fingers into the water. It was cold ice cold. But it was clean and clear and exactly what she needed.

Soren turned his back to the stream. "I’ll wait here. Take your time."

Nyra looked at him his broad back, the tension in his shoulders, the way he was deliberately not looking at her. "What about you?"

"I’ll wash after you’re done."

"That’s silly. You’re covered in just as much blood as I am. More, probably." She stood up, her heart beating faster than it should. "We can both wash. It’s not like we’ll be naked."

What are you doing? Luna’s voice was a frantic whisper in her mind. What are you doing? What are you doing?

I don’t know, Nyra thought back, her face burning. I’m just saying things. Words are coming out of my mouth and I can’t stop them.

You just invited him to bathe with you!

I said we wouldn’t be naked!

You think that matters?!

Soren turned back to look at her. His expression was unreadable, but something flickered in his dark eyes surprise, maybe. Or interest. Or both.

"You want us to bathe together."

"Not—together together. Just at the same time. In the same stream. With clothes on." She was rambling. She knew she was rambling. She couldn’t stop. "It’s more efficient. And safer. If rogues come, we can fight them together. Instead of you being up here and me being in the water and—"

"Nyra."

She stopped talking.

"Are you sure?"

Was she sure? She wasn’t sure of anything anymore. She wasn’t sure why she’d suggested it. She wasn’t sure what she was hoping would happen. But the thought of him turning his back and waiting while she bathed alone felt wrong. They had fought together. They had almost died together. They had sat by the fire and talked about his family and her childhood and all the things that made them who they were.

"Yes," she said. "I’m sure."

Soren held her gaze for a long moment. Then he nodded.

They undressed in silence.

Not completely Nyra kept her undergarments on, the thin fabric that clung to her skin and left little to the imagination but was still technically clothing. Soren stripped down to his trousers, his bare chest pale in the moonlight, the white wolf tattoo rippling across his back and shoulders and down his left arm. The scratches from the rogue attack were already healing, fading to thin red lines.

Nyra tried not to stare. She failed.

He’s magnificent, Luna sighed dreamily. Look at those shoulders. Look at those arms. We chose so well.

Please be quiet.

Never.

Soren waded into the water first, holding out his hand to help her down the slippery bank. She took it, and his grip was warm and steady, grounding her even as the ice-cold water stole her breath.

"Cold?" he asked.

"A little."

"Liar. You’re turning blue."

"I’m not turning blue. I’m just... adjusting."

He didn’t call her out on the lie. He just stood there in the water, holding her hand, the lantern light flickering on the bank behind them, the moon and stars reflected in the stream around them.

Nyra looked up at him the water beading on his shoulders, the moonlight silvering his dark hair, his eyes fixed on her face with an intensity that made her heart stutter.

"This is nice," she said quietly.

"This is freezing."

"Still nice."

He almost smiled. "Still nice," he agreed.

They stood together in the cold water, and neither of them let go.

Valeria pulled her tunic over her head, the fabric clinging to her damp skin. The river had washed away the blood and the sweat and the fear, and she felt almost human again. Almost herself.

Behind her, Elias was dressing in silence. He hadn’t spoken since she’d finished with him hadn’t made a sound except for the sharp, ragged breaths that had escaped him while she’d worked. She could feel his eyes on her now as she adjusted her sleeves, his gaze heavy with something that might have been longing.

She didn’t return the look.

"What happened here," she said, her voice cool and businesslike, "must not leave this riverbank. No one can hear of it. Not your friends. Not your superiors. No one."

Elias was quiet for a moment. "I understand."

"If Soren finds out—" She paused, her fingers stilling on the laces of her tunic. "If anyone finds out, you won’t like the consequences. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal clear, Miss Valeria." His voice was steady, but there was something in it that hadn’t been there before. A crack. A vulnerability. "I won’t tell a soul. I swear it."

"Good."

She finished lacing her tunic and turned to face him. He was fully dressed now, his dark hair still damp, his eyes fixed on her face with an intensity that was almost uncomfortable.

She smiled not the cold, calculating smile she wore around her enemies, but something closer to genuine amusement. "Besides," she said, stepping closer to him, "you’re a good fucker. I’d rate you a seven out of ten."

Elias blinked. "A seven?"

"You tried. I’ll give you credit for effort. But you need to up your game." She patted his cheek, her touch almost maternal. "We shall see. Next time."

She turned and began walking back toward the camp.

Elias stood frozen, his mind spinning. Seven out of ten. Was that a compliment? An insult? She’d said it so casually, as if she were rating a meal or a training session. But she’d also said next time. That meant there would be a next time. That meant this wasn’t a one-time thing. That meant she had noticed him, really noticed him after months of him watching her from the shadows.

His wolf stirred. She finally noticed us. After all this time, she finally noticed us.

"I know," he whispered.

And she said next time.

"I know."

So are you just going to stand here, or are you going to catch up with her?

Elias didn’t need to be told twice.

"Right behind you," he called, racing after her through the dark forest.

Valeria didn’t look back. But she smiled.

The council chamber was bathed in the warm glow of candlelight, the flames flickering against the ancient stone walls. Proctor Kane sat at the head of the long oak table, his iron-gray hair slightly disheveled, his robes still bearing the stains of the Mistwood. A fresh bandage wrapped around his forearm where a rogue’s claw had found its mark, but he showed no sign of discomfort. He had been stitched up and given a healing draught, and that was all the attention he would allow.

The other board members filed in one by one senior lecturers, combat instructors, the academy’s head healer, and the quartermaster. They took their seats with the weary expressions on their faces.

Kane waited until they were all settled before speaking.

"How many students have made it back so far?"

Lecturer Elara Voss, a sharp-eyed woman with silver-streaked hair and the demeanor of someone who tolerated no nonsense, opened the ledger in front of her. "I’ve been tracking the returns, Proctor. As of now, forty-seven students have returned from the Mistwood. Twenty-two are still unaccounted for."

The room tensed.

"Read the names," Kane ordered. "All of them. I want to know exactly who we’re still waiting for."

Elara adjusted her spectacles and began. "From Team Delta, under your command: Nikolai Voss, Xavier Reid, and Killian Drak have returned. Aldric Fern was killed in action."

Kane’s jaw tightened at the name of the dead first-year, but he said nothing.

"From Team Beta, under Corvin Eldritch: Corvin Eldritch and Lucian Crowe have returned. Both are in the healer’s wing. Kael Ironfang, Brock Grim, Halvik and Jasper Reed are still unaccounted for. Master Aldric is back and already assisting the healers."

"Efficient as always." Kane allowed himself a small nod. "Continue."

She read out out other teams and listed the ones that gave up and the ones dead and still alive.

"From Team Alpha, under Soren Thornridge..." Elara paused, scanning the list. "None of them are back yet"

The silence that followed was heavy. Kane rose from his chair, his hands pressing flat against the table. "Soren and his team are not back yet?"

"No, sir. We have not seen any sign of them since the teams were separated during the mission. They were on the western side of a chasm that opened during the earthquake.

Kane ground his jaw. The tendons in his neck stood out like cords. "The mission parameters were for twenty-four hours. We wait until tomorrow. They should arrive by dawn or noon at the latest. Let us not think the worst yet."

"Understood, sir," the board echoed.

Kane straightened. "In the meantime, I want medical supplies tripled. I want hot food available for every student who walks through those gates. I want the healer’s wing fully staffed and prepared for more arrivals. No one who survived that forest is going to suffer because we were unprepared."

"Yes, Proctor."

"We will reconvene at dawn. If Soren and his team are not back by then, we will send a search party." He looked around the room, his gaze hard as iron. "Dismissed."

The board members rose and filed out, their footsteps echoing in the stone corridor. Kane remained standing, watching them go one by one until only his assistant remained a quiet, efficient man named Aldus who had served the academy for nearly two decades.

Aldus stepped forward. "Proctor? Are you worried?"

Kane didn’t answer immediately. He walked to the window and stared out at the night sky, the stars cold and distant overhead. "I’m not worried. I trust Soren Thornridge. That boy has survived things that would kill lesser men ten times over. He will come back. And he will bring Prince Thorne with him."

"You sound very certain."

"I have to be." Kane poured amber liquid from a crystal decanter into a cup. He swirled it once, watching the light catch the alcohol. "Because if Soren Thornridge dies in that forest, I will have to explain to his father why I let his only son go on a mission that got him killed. And King Thornridge is not a man who accepts explanations."

Aldus nodded slowly. "I will report to you immediately if any new information arrives."

"Good. You can go now."

Aldus bowed and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Kane stood alone in the dim chamber, the cup of alcohol warming in his hand. He raised it to the window, to the moon, to whatever gods might be listening.

"You had better be safe, Soren," he murmured. "I cannot afford to lose you."

He took a long sip of his drink and watched the stars wheel slowly overhead.