Stalking away from the scene, he soon discovered there wasn’t a private place to return to his skin. Being the least modest person he knew, Finn didn’t understand why he felt the sudden need to hide his transformation, then he realized all eyes were on him and had been since he’d burst into battle as a beast. His transformation distracted them all from the troll and could have gotten them killed if his lack of planning had turned out differently.
Vilnjar always said it was one of the risks of being such a reckless idiot, but he’d come out on top. Just like he always did. One of those times, he might not be so lucky, and he could hear that thought rolling through his brother’s distant mind.
Now everyone in the recovering camp watched enviously as the beast skulked off behind one of the tents to resume human form. Were the beasts within them all stirring enviously beneath the skin? Longing for the freedom he possessed to rise and set his wolf spirit free at will.
Shivering in the shadow of the tent furthest away from all the action, it was Logren who found him there. Holding out a steaming pot of hot water, he lowered it in front of him and Finn immediately knelt to wash the troll’s blood away. Splashing the water onto his naked skin, he had to clench his teeth tight together to keep from letting on just how cold he was. He chattered when he stood up, icy rivulets dripping down the bare skin of his tight stomach as he reached for the clothing Logren held out to him.
“I’m not even sure these will fit you,” he sighed. “The breeches are probably going to be a little short and the tunic too tight, but Bren is the closest man in the camp to your size. I had a feeling you wouldn’t exactly be comfortable wearing enchanted robes for the rest of the journey, and besides I don’t think he brought a spare.”
Finn cleared his throat and nodded, stretching into the roughspun tunic. The fit was so snug he could feel it straining against his muscles and the wool itched against his wet skin, but it was better than nothing.
“The mage is all right, then?”
Logren didn’t watch as he stepped into the leather breeches, only nodded and turned to the side while Finn squeezed himself into the leather. “Just got the wind knocked out of him, is all. He’ll be fine. Look, Finn,” he started, “you didn’t have to do what you did out there. Under the circumstances, no one expected you to defend…”
“I didn’t do it for you.” He fumbled with the waist-strings of his pants, drawing them so tight it felt like the leather cut into his cold fingers, but still didn’t pull the narrow gap closed over his stomach. “I did it for…”
“Lorelei?” Logren asked. Finn’s head shot up just in time to catch the other man’s gaze. It was a serious look Logren cast at him, his brow quirking upward in question, but when Finn didn’t answer he went on. “It’s only natural to want to protect your mate. I have a mate, I know.” Catching the look of disbelief that passed across Finn’s face, he explained, “Last night your brother confirmed that Rhiorna saw what our seer witnessed in her visions of your coming.”
“Yeah, well, my brother’s got a really big mouth.” He dropped onto the frozen ground, the cold immediately seeping through the leather of his pants while he tugged into his boots and began to lace the sides. “Your seer seems to have told you everything there is to know about Lorelei. Where to find her when she would be in need of you, who would be with her when she came, how to win her trust.”
“I haven’t won her trust,” he shook his head. “Not yet, but I will.” There was nothing sinister about his statement, but his confidence unnerved Finn completely. “But you, on the other hand…” Logren clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth like a scolding parent and tilted his head arrogantly. “You are U’lfer, through and through, with all of your prejudice and scorn. Brendolowyn told me what you said to him,” shaking his head, he narrowed his eyes in confusion before he went on. “After everything that happened to your, to all of our people because of our fathers, one would think you’d be a little more tolerant of the half-breeds. Especially considering we outnumber you ten to one.”
“Maybe if your father had known when to quit we wouldn’t—”
“You don’t want to finish that sentence, Finn.” Logren held up a hand to stop him before he could put his foot in his mouth again and make matters worse than he already had. “Right now I respect you. I know my sister cares for you and I appreciate what you did back there for Brendolowyn. I respect how willing you are to put yourself out there to protect my sister, and if she accepts you as her mate when the time comes for her to choose, I will respect that too, but I won’t tolerate bad words about our father. You never knew the man, but your own father was willing to die for him and the things he believed in.”
Finn’s discomfort increased tenfold when he hinted at the possibility that she might not choose him as her mate. He had heard plenty of stories from his mother about the instant bond she shared with Deken, the immediate knowing that her rendered soul had found its other half. Finn had felt that instant bond to Lorelei, had known the moment he first caught her scent on the wind that she belonged to him. Not her. She may have felt something for him, a connection between them she didn’t quite understand, but for her the tugging of that bond hadn’t been nearly as strong. It terrified him completely.
“Our seer has seen her future, the important tasks that await her. Lorelei is going to need someone beside her who’s willing to die for her. In the end it won’t really matter to me who it is, as long as he can look past his prejudices about the blood that runs through her veins and stand with her through the trials ahead.”
“I will stand beside her until the gods take me.”
“Good.”
“Look, you seem to know a lot about what awaits her out there. She’s terrified and so confused. All she wants is a little reassurance. To know who she is. If you know so much about her future, why don’t you just enlighten her?”
“For the same reason you don’t tell her she’s your mate.” The thick of his eyebrow shot up. “Because it’s not my place to tell her what life has in store for her or what the gods expect of her. It is up to the seers and Llorveth himself to determine what she should know and when she should know it. But the fact that you want to protect her, that’s enough to keep me on your side, Finn. Remember that the next time the imperfection of our blood rubs you the wrong way.”
The sound of boot steps crunching in the snow drew his attention to the shadow moving in behind Logren. The blazing fire at her back lit her hair around her shoulders like a brilliant river of flame and when she met his gaze Finn swore his heart stopped for a moment in his chest. Logren pinned him with a very serious stare to drive his last words home, then he nodded once and turned away, leaving the two of them alone. On his way out, he patted his sister on the shoulder and for a moment she turned to watch him go.
He waited until they were alone in the shadow of the tent to ask, “Is your mage friend all right?”
“Bren will be fine.” She turned in to face him again, hesitating at first and then stepping forward to close the gap between them. She was so close he could smell her; the fresh scent of the cold on her skin and in her hair was intoxicating. Raising her eyes to meet his, he could see she was still upset with him, still hurting, but fear and worry overpowered those other emotions. Reaching up with a tentative hand, he hadn’t even realized he’d been hurt until her fingers touched the sensitive cut on his face. “More importantly, are you all right?”
“It’s nothing.” He couldn’t look into her eyes for very long without his own guilt overwhelming and shaming him. Lowering his head, her hand lingered against his cheek and he reached up to curl his fingers around her wrist to hold her near. She gasped in surprise as he tugged her through that final inch of space between them. Maybe Logren was right, and it wasn’t his place to tell her who she was, but that shouldn’t stop him from making sure she knew who he was and how he felt about her. “Just a scratch.”
She trembled against him, every part of her body shaking, but she d
idn’t pull away. Her fingers brushed past his stinging wound, rising to tuck a stray lock of fallen hair behind his ear. Their bodies barely touched, but he could feel her warmth and for a moment he almost forget he was standing in the middle of the tundra without even so much as a fur to keep him warm.
“Lorelei, I’m so sorry for the things I said this morning.”
At the mention of the tension between them, she immediately lowered her gaze, her long lashes drawing down to hide her eyes. He watched the corner of her mouth tighten as she drew it between her teeth.
“Are you?”
She finally lifted her eyes to meet his again, tentative hope flaring as she tilted her head. There was an instant when he actually thought of kissing her because if that didn’t prove how sorry he was, he couldn’t imagine there would be anything else that would, but he was so afraid. The bastard she’d been betrothed to had done a serious number on her emotions, and if he took a chance only to have her push him away… he couldn’t stomach the idea.
“Are you really sorry, Finn?”
“Gods, if there were any way for me to say the words so you’d believe me, I would say them a thousand times.” He brought his hands up and gently cupped her face. She started to shy away from his touch, but then she relaxed, nestling her cheek into his palm and resting it there as if she’d been waiting for him to touch her that way since the moment she’d first woken in the healer’s room in Drekne. “I never meant… I didn’t think. All my life I was surrounded by people who felt that way about a group of people I’d never even met, but from the moment I met you I never once thought about you like that. You have to believe me.”
“I want to.” She frowned then and began to withdraw. “But now that I know you feel that way, Finn, I don’t know if I can…”
“U’lfer!”
Finn’s hands slipped away from her face quickly, as if he’d been caught in the middle of something much more compromising than simply touching her. He felt his jaw tighten, the teeth in the back of his mouth aching from how hard he’d clenched them together. Swallowing his initial response, it took everything he had in him not to scowl and roll his eyes at the half-elf’s impeccable timing. If he didn’t know any better, he would swear his interruptions were intentional.
Lorelei took a step back, her arms dropping to her sides, but she didn’t take her eyes off of Finn. She watched him as if she expected him to react. The judgment she was preparing to pass would never come. Finn cleared his throat and forced a smile that probably came off looking more like a crazed leer than a joyful greeting, but at least he was trying. Surely she would give him props for his effort.
The mage’s long shadow passed across the fire, stretching over the place where they stood and completely ruining his apology for the second time that day. Brendolowyn stalked toward them confidently, though Finn noticed he was limping just a little and allowed himself a twinge of smug satisfaction. The hood of the mage’s robes nestled around the tangles of his wild hair, shadowing his face until he approached and positioned himself almost between them.
“It would seem I am in your debt, Wolf.”
He thrust his hand out in a gesture of peace and Finn studied those long, steady fingers for a time before his instincts reminded him that she was watching, waiting to see what kind of man he was. Swallowing his pride, he reached out to accept Bren’s hand, squeezing a little harder than the mage expected judging from the widening of his eyes.
“That troll came out of nowhere and caught me off my guard. If not for your fast reflexes I imagine I would be doing more than limping right now.”
“It was nothing.”
When in fact, it was everything and his motivation for doing it in the first place was still a little sketchy. Everything came back to Lorelei in the end, and even though he had no love for the mage, Brendolowyn seemed to be one of the few people Lorelei was willing to let herself get close to. If he wanted to make sure she didn’t start veering toward Bren when she should be coming to him, he was going to have to make an extra effort to play nice with the scrawny magic-user. Make sure he was always there whenever Bren was starting to get a little too close and insert himself in the middle of things just the way Bren seemed to be doing.
“Logren’s asked me to seek out a warrior to watch my back while I finish raising the magical barrier around the camp,” he announced. “I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather have at my back than you. Will you do me the honors, U’lfer?”
“Finn,” he said. “My name is Finn.”
The edge of Bren’s mouth twitched into a grin, as if to say he knew exactly what the man’s name was and then he asked, “So what do you say, Finn? Will you stand guard while I raise the barrier around the camp?”
Lorelei looked up at him, the lines of her brow rising curiously above her gentle eyes. He swore she was fighting hard against the urge to smile herself, but when he nodded and said, “I’ve got your back,” her face lit up completely.
“Excellent.” He studied the two of them a moment, and then added, “We should get to it. As Logren likes to say that barriers not going to raise itself.” Finn swore he winked at Lorelei before turning from them and heading back toward the camp.
Hesitating for a moment, Finn expanded his chest with a deep breath and then started after the mage. He was only a step away when Lorelei grabbed his hand and stopped him from going forward.
“Finn,” she wasn’t strong enough to draw him back on her own, but he was so stunned that she’d reached for him he stumbled back into place in front of her. “I want to believe in you.”
Those words stunned him, and for a moment he endured something that didn’t often fall upon him: speechlessness. Squeezing the thick part of his forearm she’d gripped, she let go and turned to follow Brendolowyn back into the bustling camp. Finn stood there much longer than he should have, feeling relieved and just a little triumphant.
He would make damn sure she did believe in him from that moment forward, no matter how hard a task that was.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The troll attack brought an unnerving quiet to their encampment that defied the bustling bodies rushing around to try and secure their perimeter so they could rest easy for the night. Lorelei was still in awe, having never seen a troll before beyond the pages of a book. The image she recalled from memory seemed much smaller, less threatening, but as she stood near the unmoving monstrosity the reality barely matched the memory. That notion seemed an ongoing theme in her life since the day she left Rivenn with Trystay. She had more than just a feeling the contrast between her painted memories and the stark reality of the world around here were only going to grow more evident with every step they took forward.
The soldiers who faced the troll did not stop to tend to their wounds until they were forced by the camp medic to have them bandaged. Even then they seemed impossible to deter from their task. She heard more than one man insist he would rest and see to his wounds when the camp was secure, but how did one even secure a camp in the middle of nowhere so the bodies with in it could rest easy for the night?
The whole environment reminded her too much of the caravan she’d left home with. Trystay’s men set up camp each evening, starting with her tent first so she could remain tucked away while the work was done. She spied from the flap of her tent as the workers carried on setting up tents and starting fires for cooking and warmth against the cold autumn nights. Three magic-users in his company marched along the perimeter muttering words of enchantment to raise a barrier around the camp to keep out predators and brigands who patrolled the highway in search of targets to prey on. She’d been so fascinated by it, not having much experience with mages.
Trystay wouldn’t allow her to lend a hand, claiming those of royal blood should never lower themselves to attend to the menial tasks designed for servants to carry out. Upon reflection, she wondered now if the real reason Trystay kept her apart from the rest of the camp was because he wanted to keep her away from any disgruntled servants
who might have been privy to his plans for her. Had she discovered his plot sooner, things might have turned out very differently, she realized. She might have made it back home to Rivenn, or she could have died a lot sooner than Trys planned.
“Isn’t there something I can do?” She edged up beside Logren and stood watching the fluidity of the camp’s movement, wanting to be a part of that well-oiled machine in ways she’d never had the opportunity to do before. “I feel so useless just standing here watching everyone else do all the work.”
Glancing down over his shoulder at her, there was amusement in his eyes as he said, “Trust me, Lorelei, there is nothing you can do. These men and women have been working this routine since they were old enough to hold a sword. The slightest deviation from convention and it all falls apart.”
She started to ask why he’d given Vilnjar and Finn things to do, but she was beginning to think she’d only get in the way. Everyone worked so fluidly together, everyone but her.
Regardless, she was not some spoiled princess, as Finn seemed fond of implying. Pahjah taught both her and her sister that despite their privileged birthright, they must know how to take care of themselves. “It hurts none to get a little dirt on their hands, and there very well might come a day when you have no servants to empty your chamber pot or put food on your table, Lorelei. If you cannot do these things for yourself, they will not get done and you will not survive.”
She’d gotten her hands plenty dirty in the last week just trying to survive, but now she was being shoved aside as if no one thought her hands strong enough to get the job done. She walked away from her brother and sulked by the fire, sighing several times out of bored and frustration.
There was no worse feeling than the one that disconnected a person from the world around them, and at that moment she felt so disconnected that her homesickness reached an epic peak and she almost broke down and cried for the first time since Finn had picked her up and tossed her over her shoulder like a helpless animal. She was not helpless, but there seemed to be no way to express that without coming off, as Finn liked to call her, a princess.
Edgelanders (Serpent of Time) Page 34