Defiance

by Sadie Moss

  I blink, surprised. Oh. Right.

  When my fingers find the wound at my side, they come away wet with blood, and for the first time since the hound’s paw slashed at me, I feel the pain of the injury. The scratches aren’t deep though, and the bleeding isn’t bad.

  “I’m all right,” I tell him, but before the words are even fully past my lips, Callum brushes them aside, closing the distance between us.

  His fingers move quickly and nimbly as he tugs at the weave, knitting my skin back together. When I glance up at him, his eyes glint in the darkness, his brows furrowing in concentration. Then his hands glide over my sides, checking to make sure that the shallow wounds are fully healed. The gesture is clinical and analytical, but the way he’s taking care of me feels incredibly intimate.

  Only when he’s satisfied with his handiwork does he meet my gaze. “Can you keep going?”

  “Yes.”

  I’m exhausted, but the men are right. We need to keep running. And even if we did stop to rest, I’m certain I couldn’t sleep right now.

  “Good.” The big warrior’s expression is grim as he steps back from me and lifts his hand, fingers already plucking at the air. “Then let’s go.”

  The weave seems different as we make our way across Kaius’s human realm, back to the portal that will return us to the afterworld. It takes me several leaps to realize what’s changed—not the weave itself, but me.

  We’re moving faster than ever now. A few weeks ago, before I began training in earnest with the men, I wouldn’t have been able to transport myself at this speed. I likely would have been tucked under Callum’s arm like a piece of luggage as we hurtle across the realm. But now, I can almost see the strands of the weave crisscrossing in front of me. I snatch them without even looking, as if my use of magic has become more intuitive with the constant barrage of heavy training I’ve done over the past weeks.

  I consider it a victory.

  We stop to get our bearings in the wilderness somewhere deep in Kaius’s earthly realm. It’s nothing but dense, emerald forest as far as the eye can see, and I’m utterly lost. But the men converse quickly, seeming to know exactly where we are and where we need to go to get back to Ironholde.

  I barge into their conversation at the mention of Kaius’s city. “We’re going to Ironholde? Now? Already?”

  Callum nods as he rests a hand on his sword’s pommel. “Time is up.”

  “But I’m not ready!” The words come out a little more hysterical than I planned, but it’s too late to take them back now. I know I was the one who decided on this foolhardy mission, but I don’t feel ready to meet Kaius. My training has only just begun.

  “We have no more time to prepare,” Callum grumbles, staring out across the landscape as if he expects to see hounds come tearing over the hills at any moment. “Kaius is getting more aggressive in hunting us.”

  “It’s only a matter of time before his hounds catch us again. And I’ve little doubt he’s dispatched more already. Next time, we may be set upon by more hounds than we can possibly fight,” Echo says, his tone apologetic. “It’s now or never, little soul. We need to attack with what we have.”

  He’s right. I know he is. And so is Callum.

  Paris doesn’t speak up in agreement, but I can read his expressions well enough by now to know that he sees the truth in their words too. Our time in the mountains was a respite, a gift. But we knew it couldn’t last forever.

  As we all tug at the weave again and leap into motion, nausea begins swirling in the pit of my stomach. Ultimately, I knew this day would come. I knew that one day, we would cease training and the real fight would begin.

  But gods, I hoped that day would be a little further off.

  Even as we continue to fly along the threads of the weave, I’m more aware of the magic now. I practice some of what I learned while training—giving myself bursts of speed and strength, connecting to the weave in a split second, weaponizing the strands. Throughout my desperate attempt at one last practice session, I keep up an inner refrain.

  I’m capable of doing this. I am strong enough.

  We can succeed.

  We finally stop at the portal and gather around the spot where the invisible entrance to the afterworld pulses with energy. The familiar rush of cold surrounds me as I step through, but I walk more confidently than I once did, and Callum makes no move at all to carry me.

  Some things, at least, have changed in the time we’ve been gone.

  Once on the other side, we move as quickly as we can through the Unclaimed Expanse, setting a punishing pace as we work to cover the distance as fast as possible. It takes us several days, and those days seem to simultaneously fly by and drag interminably as we make our way toward Ironholde.

  My heart beats faster when the city finally appears on the horizon—a vast, dark island that looms over the surrounding lands. I see it with different eyes now. It’s no longer a beautiful, regal city topped by a shining palace. I suddenly see the maliciousness, the pall of evil that clings to the entire city as if Kaius’s ferocity has tainted everything.

  Callum halts our traveling party near a stream that trickles through the heavily wooded area. We’re still at a distance from the city’s limits, hidden in the tree line and far enough away from Ironholde to feel like we’re teetering on the edge of safety. The big warrior is alert and tense, his grass-green eyes noting everything around us with a heavy level of suspicion.

  I understand his worries, because I carry them too. We’re so close to Ironholde that anything can go wrong now.

  “Get a drink and prepare yourselves for entry,” Callum says gruffly, motioning to the stream.

  “We’ll do a perimeter check,” Paris says, jerking his head toward Echo.

  My messengers branch off—Paris and Echo heading into the woods to scout around the outskirts of the city while Callum kneels by the edge of the water farther downstream. I cross to the rocky bank, my knees weak, and cast another anxious glance at Ironholde before I drop to my knees beside the placid, lazily flowing stream.

  I lean forward, both hands reaching toward the water, but I freeze before I touch the current.

  The water is so slow-moving that I can see a near-perfect reflection of myself on the surface.

  I don’t even recognize this girl. I’m no longer stick-thin and sickly from malnourishment. Instead, my time spent training with the men has turned me hard and lean. The sun on the mountain has bronzed my skin and lightened my hair, giving me an otherworldly air.

  I look… like a warrior. Like the warrior I’ve always wanted to be, back in my hunting days when I fought bears with my knife.

  Maybe she’s always been there inside me, and it just took an existence with the messengers to bring her into the daylight.

  This reflection looks like a woman prepared to do what it takes to destroy a vengeful god. She gives me hope, and a wave of determination floods me. I’m driven to see this through, to see Kaius put in his place for the things he’s done.

  Cupping water in both hands, I help myself to a few long, refreshing drinks before I splash the cool liquid on my face and neck. I wipe droplets from my eyes and blink back down at my reflection in time to see Callum’s reflected image appear on the water beside me.

  I jump and swivel on my heels to look up at him. “You startled me.”

  “My apologies.” He holds out a hand, and I take it, letting him help me to my feet. Once I’m standing before him, he doesn’t release my hand. We stay there for a moment, staring at one another, but he’s so statue-still, so enigmatic and closed-off with his emotions, that I have no idea what he’s thinking.

  It’s frustrating in more ways than one.

  But things truly have changed. I’m not the same person I was when we left Ironholde… and neither is Callum. He may always be a bit hard to read, but he’s given me glimpses beneath the mask he wears. He’s shared more of himself with me than I ever dared to hope for, and if I want more than that, maybe it’s
up to me to ask for it.

  Would he deny me?

  Has he ever denied me anything?

  I can’t think of a single time he has, so I take a deep breath and say, “What’s on your mind?”

  Callum’s eyes widen, as if he can’t believe I’ve just asked him such a thing instead of letting him stew quietly inside his own head. But then the expression fades, and a wry smile curls up one side of his lips. “You. You’re on my mind.”

  “How so?” I prod, my heart beating a nervous staccato. Do I even want to know what this warrior is thinking?

  “You’re so much more than I expected you to be after our first encounter.”

  I’m taken aback by the candor in his words. “What did you expect from me?”

  “More of the same I often expect from women,” he says with a shrug. “The women in Ironholde aren’t known for their depths. Shallow needs and desires, like pretty dresses or the nicest ‘new’ thing for their home. Trying to one up one another in some ridiculous bid for attention.”

  I nearly roll my eyes. There’s the asshole I know and love.

  “You realize men can be the same way,” I say pointedly, pursing my lips.

  “Of course,” Callum agrees, a smile curving his lips. “Paris is one of those lunatics.”

  I can’t help but laugh. His smile widens at the sound, and I don’t even have to prompt him to continue; it’s as if I’ve opened the floodgates, and suddenly, Callum’s words come pouring out.

  “But you’re different, little soul. I suppose because of where you came from—humble beginnings, struggling to survive, learning early that the things that really matter in life aren’t ‘things’ at all, but the people you love. All of that has shaped you into a force of nature. A woman to be reckoned with. I respect you. Admire you.”

  A blush warms my neck and cheeks, and I look away, unable to hold the weight of his gaze. I feel as if he can see deep inside me, further than anybody has ever been able to reach.

  “Paris told me he shared the story of our fourth messenger with you,” he says softly.

  My gaze shoots back up to his, surprised by the sudden change in topic. Not that I wanted him to continue praising me in a very un-Callum-like way, but this new comment gives me whiplash.

  “Yes. Layla,” I confirm. Then I swallow around the sudden tightness in my throat. “I’m so sorry, Callum.”

  He squeezes my fingers. “Because of Layla, I didn’t want to risk my heart again. I didn’t want to care for another person so deeply that their loss could hurt me so much.” His lips quirk up again. “You made that too difficult. Wouldn’t take no for an answer, even at my worst.”

  “I’ve never been amenable to rejection,” I quip, relishing the chuckle that leaves his lips. I step closer to him, our hands still interlocked between us. “I’m frightened too, Callum. But I’m not going to die.”

  He releases me, one hand drifting up to brush over my cheek and delve into my hair. He fists a handful of silken strands and tugs my face up toward his. His breath fans across my lips as he says gruffly, “You had better not. My heart couldn’t bear it.”

  Then his lips slant over mine.

  A breath escapes my lips as I grab on to his upper arms, using the grip to pull myself even closer to him. His kiss is hard and deep, and I meet him with the same level of need as my tongue explores his mouth.

  Ever since that day at Caelfall Inn and Tavern, Callum’s walls have been slowly crumbling. I felt it in the way he looked at me and spoke to me during our time in the cabin, and even in the way he trained with me. He has revealed more and more of himself to me, and now he’s allowed me to see something that I think very few people have ever glimpsed.

  His fear.

  I’m grateful to him for letting me inside the walls of his heart, and I’m overwhelmed by how much of his fear is for me.

  By how much he cares about me.

  My heart feels like it will burst with emotion as I slide my hands up Callum’s strong shoulders to wrap them around his neck. The disparity in our heights is so great that he has to curve his spine to maintain the connection of our lips. I’m on my tiptoes, nearly lifted off my feet as his arms wrap around me and he hauls me even closer to his body.

  Yet somehow, despite the difference in our sizes—despite every difference between us—the two of us fit together perfectly.

  I may not have realized it when I first met him, but I need someone like Callum in my life. His strength helps me find new strength inside myself, and his unbending principles inspire me.

  My breath comes quicker, my lungs struggling to get enough air as I drown in Callum’s kiss, clinging to him like I’ll never let go. We hold each other like this, kissing desperately until the fear begins to drain from us both, leaving only the feeling of our bodies moving against each other, our hands touching and grasping.

  His tongue slows as it explores my mouth sensually instead of ferociously, and the heat building in my lower belly begins to spread like metal melting in a forge. My core throbs with an empty ache as my inner walls clench around nothing.

  Farse, I want him inside me.

  I crave his touch, the same closeness I’ve had with the other two men, in a way that’s almost physically painful, like the never-ending pull of an addiction.

  One of my hands slips between us, brushing over the outline of his thick cock through his pants, and he grunts into my mouth. I’m half-tempted to push his pants down over his muscled hips and free his hard length, to beg him to take me up against one of the trees nearby.

  But Ironholde stands in the distance, visible just beyond the tree line. We’re so close to enemy territory that letting our guard down as much as we have already is dangerous. If Callum lifts my skirt and slides inside me, I know I won’t be able to think of a single thing but him.

  And we can’t risk that.

  He must be thinking something along the same lines I am, because although his hips press into my touch, he breaks our kiss on a groan, wrapping his hand around my wrist and pulling it away from his cock.

  His chest rises and falls with deep breaths as he drops his forehead to mine, bringing my hand to his chest.

  “Live through this, little soul. Survive. And when we all come out of this in one piece, I’ll show you how very glad I am that you did.”

  24

  Paris and Echo return a moment later, and I can’t help but wonder if they stayed away long enough to give me and Callum a bit of privacy. The thought sends a rush of heat to my cheeks, which is entirely pointless, considering the things I’ve done with each of these men.

  What do any of us have to hide from each other?

  Callum gives me one more lingering kiss that makes my temperature soar again, then he returns to the stream for one more splash. Paris comes to me, both arms snaking around my waist as he lifts me into a twirl that makes me laugh breathlessly. As my feet touch the ground again, he kisses me, taking his time and making me feel as if he’s unraveling me piece by piece.

  When he steps back, he tilts his head to one side, regarding me with warm green eyes. “I’m glad you’re with us, little soul. I’m glad fate brought us to you.”

  His words land in my chest, infusing my heart, and I nod. “Me too.”

  Then it’s just me and Echo. He slides a hand up my neck, tilting my face up to his. He’s not nearly as tall as Paris or Callum, yet somehow, he still manages to make me feel small and protected in his arms. I close my eyes and lean into his mouth, relishing the coolness of his lips from the stream water, and the way his body molds to mine.

  My heart beats faster as we kiss, joy and terror mixing within me in a strange concoction.

  As much as I’m enjoying the attention, I can’t help but feel like my messengers are saying goodbye. And if their minds are racing anywhere along the same lines as mine, they’re considering the idea that some—or all of us—might not survive this adventure.

  But I can’t dwell on that thought. I refuse to fall into that t
rap of despair. So I cling to Callum for one last, desperate kiss, and then it’s time to go.

  The issue we come up against when we enter the city limits of Ironholde is that everybody knows my messengers. They’ve been residents of this city for centuries, so it isn’t only the other messengers who know them, but many of the human souls that inhabit this place too.

  But there’s nothing to be done about that, really. We all four throw on our traveling cloaks and pull up the hoods in an attempt to hide our faces, then we take side streets toward the castle.

  It’s early in the day, and as we make our way through deserted side streets, we pass a few souls out working or traveling. A few look a little closer, seeming to recognize the messengers, and the men are swift but gentle as they dart toward the passersby and use the weave to knock them out.

  We leave a trail of unconscious bodies behind us, and Paris estimates an hour before the magic will wear off and they race into the city screaming of our arrival.

  Only an hour to get into the palace and weaken Kaius enough to break his connection to all of his messengers.

  That thought doesn’t instill hope in me.

  We’re about halfway to the palace on our circuitous route when suddenly, a familiar face pops around the corner. I suck in a breath as Paris grabs my wrist and yanks me into the shadows against the wall of the alley.

  Violet. Accompanied by two messengers.

  I fight the urge to groan out loud. We’re caught. It’s over. We outnumber them, but barely. And the men can’t restrain other messengers with the same ease and subtlety that they took out the human souls. We’ll have to fight, which will likely bring half the city running.

  The two messengers have their heads down as they talk in heated conversation, but Violet is watching the road ahead, seemingly lost in thought.

  That’s when she sees us in the shadows. Her eyes widen as our gazes meet, and she screams bloody murder.

  Farse!

  I freeze, sure she’s about to give us up, until the two messengers whirl on her with low exclamations I can’t make out.