Ice Bear's Bid (Northbane Shifters Book 4)

by Isabella Hunt

  “Ask your brother,” I muttered, and the air in the room went taut. “Sorry.” I hunched over my mug. “I’m exhausted. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

  “It was prudent,” Xander said in a hard, brittle voice.

  “So, they’re really going to pretend they’re mates, and then what?” Beylore asked. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard of fated mates breaking up. And what if the other territories don’t take kindly to being duped?” She was giving Xander an intense and probing look. “Alex.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” he said.

  “I mean, there is one solution that I think the two of them could live with. Maybe would have even wound up there if this silly charade hadn’t been thrust upon them with the best intentions...”

  Xander glared at Beylore. “What was I supposed to do? The Burnfur and the Greyclaw were—” He broke off, and a small grin curved into his cheeks. “Wait, what did you…?” She shrugged, and his grin went wider, eyes flashing to me. “Huh. Well, maybe I will win that bet.”

  “Tristan only wins bets when other people lose on purpose,” Beylore said out of nowhere. “He’s not as great a gambler as he thinks he is.”

  My head was starting to hurt from pretending I didn’t know what these two were getting at. “While this is riveting, what about the book? Where is it?”

  Beylore sighed and snapped her fingers. The book thumped onto the coffee table in front of me, and a fissure of ice seemed to go through the room. “It doesn’t take kindly to me.”

  “So, no luck?”

  “It going to require time and a lot of research,” Beylore said, and she waved her fingers carelessly. Big crates appeared around the perimeter of the room, and I tried not to groan. “These will help. But for right now, the Coven needs to focus on trying to find Orion and reversing the effects of the corrupted shifters.” Her eyes went flat. “We do not want another Stasis Bureau. This book, I believe, is Iris’s task.”

  “Dammit,” I muttered. “I wanted to keep her away from this.”

  “Be that as it may, it came into her possession. And Sarrow wanted to auction the two as a set, which meant even he realized she had the best chance of breaking Orion’s codes.”

  “And what a strange coincidence that she ran into a master codebreaker, too,” Xander said innocently, and I sat back, hunching my shoulders. “Wouldn’t you agree, Lor?”

  “I dabbled,” I protested. “Just another skill.”

  “Like being a field medic,” Xander said.

  “Hey, I told you I didn’t think your stomach could handle it,” I said, almost grinning. When we’d become Special Forces, Xander had become my poor, weak-stomached assistant.

  “Kal, you know this is how these things work,” Beylore said, and my face tightened. “Think of your cousin and Laia. Happy coincidence or an excellent turn of the wheel in our favor?”

  “A mate is a distraction I cannot afford to have,” I said. “How am I the only one who can see this? You two baffle me.”

  “Reagan helped get Winfyre to the smooth operational point it runs at today. Laia brought us intel on Orion and the crian shards, and also helps keep the peace in Winfyre. Sierra helped us forge relationships with the Tiselk and helped us understand Slinkers and Scouts better.” Xander paused. “Honestly, I don’t want to picture where Winfyre would be without them.”

  “Yes, but with Reagan came the Barrowmen and the vryke. With Laia…” I ran a shaking hand through my hair, thinking of the hell my cousin had been through. “She saw Rett succumbing to the shard, jumped to her death to prevent it, survived by the skin of her teeth, lost her memories for a minute there, and nearly destroyed my cousin’s heart.” My chest was heaving now. “And Tristan. I mean, Sierra had him distracted for five years while he tried to track her down through the damn Tiselk. He’d run off and disappear, then I’d have to go find him and drag his ass home. And even then, he almost died in Orion’s mountain prison cell. Tortured for information on how to destroy you.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for any of that. Rett and Tristan made their own choices,” Xander said, sounding half-irritated, half-amused. “Glad to see you at least don’t blame yourself for Luke’s demons, though I’m sure you’ve tried. And you need to stop blaming their mates.”

  “I’m not blaming anyone, especially their mates or myself,” I said, and Xander snorted. “I’m just not closing my eyes to the consequences of being distracted.”

  “Glass half-empty,” Beylore said under her breath.

  “I think it’s better to have at least one Alpha who is unattached,” I retorted, and rage rippled through my chest. “God forbid we need to have someone lay down their life for this territory again.” Beylore and Xander both stilled. “I’m not saying those three wouldn’t do it, but they can’t. Especially not Rett or Luke—they have kids.” My throat went tight. “We have to be practical. Think about what’s happening right now. What if these corrupted shifters…what if it’s worse?”

  Xander shook his head. “We don’t know anything yet—let’s not assume the worst.”

  “Someone has to,” I growled and folded my arms. “Someone has to be ready to face it.”

  “There’s no telling what will happen,” Beylore snapped. “There are no guarantees of anything in life. You seize happiness when you can find it.”

  “I don’t have that luxury.”

  “You tell yourself you don’t.” Beylore was starting to lose her temper, and Xander was keeping still with difficulty. “You’re blind to what is right in front of you. You think it was a coincidence that Iris risked pissing you off to come upstairs and check on you? No, she sensed something was wrong. And even in all that pain, when you thought she was in trouble, I saw the way you reached for her.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  Xander let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “Yes, it does.”

  “So, you’re going to close off your heart and live alone because there might come a time when Winfyre is in danger?” Beylore snarled. “And you might have to die for it? Honestly, Kal.”

  I couldn’t meet her eyes. “Yes. And I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.”

  “What about you, Kal?” Beylore demanded. “What about your own damn heart?”

  “I’ll be fine,” I muttered. “Winfyre comes first. It has to.”

  “Kal, you know I’ve never asked you to take on that burden,” Xander said.

  “I’m not getting into this argument with you again,” I retorted. “You are essential to Winfyre. Without you, the wards come down, and the territory would be decimated like that.” I snapped my fingers. "We've already been on the brink of that once—you want to risk it now? With thousands living here in peace, families, children, and infants?"

  Xander let out a hiss of breath but didn’t argue. He couldn’t.

  “One day, we might be able to change that,” Beylore said faintly.

  “One day,” I said. “Until then, Xander needs someone like me.” My eyes briefly met hers. “We had someone else who thought the same way. And he shouldn’t have been the one to die that night.” I stood up and went towards the stairs, fury and guilt surging through me. Why was everyone being so damn blind? “It should have been me.”

  “He’d disagree,” Beylore said, and I paused at the bottom of the stairs.

  This wasn’t something we’d ever discussed before, and I wasn’t sure why or how we’d wound up here. Xander’s temper was fraying, I could sense it. But Beylore’s had vanished. Now she sounded sad, and her voice wobbled when she spoke again.

  “He’d tell you that you can’t live like you’re already dead. And he’d call you an idiot for even thinking of letting Iris go.”

  “Nah,” Xander said in a thick voice. “He’d slug him.”

  I looked back, anger and grief warring in my chest. “Well, seeing as how Brody can’t do either at the moment, I’m going to do what I think is right.”

  A strangled breath escaped me as the air in the room seeme
d to evaporate. Beylore looked down, and Xander glared at me. His knuckles had gone white, and how he hadn’t lunged across the room, I didn’t know. Maybe through the same steely self-control that kept this territory in one piece.

  “And besides, Iris doesn’t think of me like that,” I heard myself say and swallowed hard. “She never will, even if I have to make sure of it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Iris

  “What the hell is this?”

  Kal’s growl jerked me out of a studious torpor, my neck aching from the same position I’d been in all morning. Looking up, I saw him surveying the room and scowling. My eyes followed his, and I winced. Books had taken over his living room, stacks lined up by the crates and piled on the couches, along with messy piles of notebooks.

  I was sitting on the floor, hunched over Orion’s book, dutifully and neatly transcribing my final copy of what I’d translated so far. About three lines, total. It was slow, painstaking work, and I’d probably be done in about twenty years.

  But it was satisfying. I swear, it was like that book was happy to see me.

  I’d been so engrossed, I hadn’t realized how far the mess had sprawled or thought to clean it up. Then again, Rogda had stopped by and said he probably wouldn’t be up until about three or four. As it was only one, I’d thought I’d had time.

  “Hi, Kal,” I said and stood, carefully marking my place. “I’ll clean this in a bit. Probably not the first thing you want to see after a long night, but this is how I work.”

  He looked at me and seemed to blink, as though remembering I were there. I took him in, running my eyes over him and checking for any injuries. I couldn’t forget the way he’d crushed my hand in his last night, veins and cords of muscles surging out of his skin. Or how he’d arched up, his body wracked with pain, and the hiss of anguish between his clenched teeth.

  “I’ve recovered, nosy,” Kal said and stomped off to the kitchen. “And if that’s how you work, leave it. We need answers more than a neat living room.”

  Hopping up, I went over to the table that bisected the living room and kitchen, laying my hands flat on it. The chairs looked as though they hadn’t been touched in ages, and something about that pinched my heart. The few times people had been over, they'd sat on the couches or at the table by the window. No one ever seemed to sit here.

  When I looked up, Kal was leaning against the counter, eyes closed and inhaling a cup of coffee. He looked weary, shoulders slumped with the weight of the world. A shiver went up my spine and the sense that I’d trespassed, that I was seeing something I wasn’t supposed to.

  “Did Xander and Beylore fill you in?” Kal asked, opening his eyes and tilting his head.

  I nodded. “They left a note. A long note.”

  Beylore had filled almost three pages with instructions on translating—or rather, breaking into—Orion’s notebook. She’d also informed me about the crates that had been left behind and the fact that the Archives in Cobalt and Veda were available to me. She’d also left instructions on keeping the book in a specific metal box under the living room table when it wasn’t in use.

  I was about to ask Kal about that when he drained his coffee and put the mug in the sink, then yanked open a nearly-empty cabinet. Inside was one container of what looked like homemade oatmeal bars. He took out five and tossed it back in.

  “All right. I’ll be back later.”

  “Oh,” I said. From Beylore’s note, it had sounded like Kal was going to help me with the research. Also, from Xander’s postscript, it had sounded like Kal was supposed to be on bed rest.

  “Need something?” Kal asked, pausing at the far end of the kitchen and looking back.

  “No,” I said hastily.

  Who was I, the unwelcome guest and burden, to say anything? Those two labels had been floating in the back of my head for a week and now came forward to jab at me.

  Part of me still wanted to demand what he was thinking going out after the excruciating hell he'd been through last night. The same part that was also annoyed.

  I didn't even get a thank you, a time he'd be back, or any other acknowledgment of what I was doing?

  The door closing behind him was answer enough.

  “Come again, miss!”

  I waved as I exited the small café and stepped onto the main thoroughfare of Cobalt. People strolled up and down the street, chatting and shopping, or stopping for a bite to eat. Overhead, lush, fragrant grass waved from every rooftop. A fairy tale of a town. Huge old trees, their branches filled with colorful leaves that swirled down on the wayward breezes, made it even more magical.

  Yet as I sipped at the coffee I was drinking and tugged my scarf closer, my nose filling with the scent of Kal, I felt apart from it all. By now, after three weeks of living in Winfyre, everyone knew me. While I was sure they were all good people and would be equally kind to any newcomer, it seemed that Kal’s reputation had sprinkled a glamour over me.

  I hated it. It felt so false and irritating, like a fancy white crown digging into my scalp. One I couldn’t take off. And it came with the lovely added baggage of a man who barely tolerated me.

  Several people had sidled up to ask questions about Kal, trying not-so-subtly to pry information from me about the most elusive of the Alphas after Xander. But it seemed like I was learning more from talking with strangers about my so-called mate than from living with him.

  For instance, I’d learned that the Alphas used to go by the term Command, and Xander had been the Head Command. That name had fallen out of use as shifters had gotten more comfortable using Rift names, along with their gifts. I also found out that the five of them had been in Winfyre when the Rift had happened. There’d been a lot of upheaval and tragedy in the year that followed, along with a lot of narrow wins by the Northbane. That was where Kal had culled his reputation.

  I’d also learned that Kal was devoted to his family, although he didn’t spend a lot of time with them. I hadn’t met any more Deacons yet, as they'd gone to visit the Llarys in Veda. I didn’t know how people even knew that, but either way, it stood out as a bit too conspicuous to the residents, who’d made a point of asking me about it.

  Unfortunately for me, Laia and Rett, along with their kids, as well as Tristan and Sierra, had all gone along with them. Reagan had promised to be available, but then her son came down with a bad cold, and she did, too. So, I’d been fending off these questions alone. It had been a crappy week.

  However, I had found one point of solace in Winfyre. The Archives.

  A massive, beautiful building that looked as though it had been created with magic, and maybe with the Coven’s help, it had; it was apparently the sister of one in Veda. It had skinny, arched windows, three floors of books and documents, and endless, labyrinth-like stacks.

  Draining my coffee, I headed there now and greeted the nice front desk folks again.

  “Welcome back,” one of them chirped, and I smiled, hoping it wasn’t terrible that this was the second time today I’d been here. “Did you forget something?”

  “Oh, yes,” I said, grasping at the opening. I just didn’t want to go back to that empty house. “Or I think I did. Something I need to double-check.”

  “Let us know if we can help,” she called as I made my way upstairs.

  Inhaling the scent of quiet paper and leather-bound tomes soothed my soul. I’d haunted libraries as a kid. Although that felt like a lifetime ago now. In fact, it was hard to remember them. Only the scents had lingered in my memory.

  Pulling out the notebook I was using to document all my notes, I ran my finger under the few things I wanted to check out. Orion had used a code that seemed to vacillate with his mood. Though I could speak four languages, that didn’t necessarily help when trying to decipher his notes.

  But what had helped was his obsession with Winfyre. And something he'd written about had been nagging at me all day. I hadn't found anything earlier, but I thought I'd try my luck again.

  Picking up a
pile of books, trying to smile, I went over to my favorite table and put them down. Flipping through the musty pages, caffeine humming in my veins, I didn’t make much headway into any more leads, yet I felt oddly accomplished when I was done.

  It was getting late, though. Nearly four hours had passed, and the moon was high in the sky when I left. Shivering a bit, I checked my watch. Past eight, and it was as dark as midnight.

  “You’re not lost, are you, miss?”

  I jumped at the voice and whirled around, lifting my books in defense. A tall, fair-haired man with bright blue eyes smiled down at me. In a plain black jacket and heavy boots, he didn’t stick out. Yet something about him seemed incongruous with Winfyre.

  “Not many houses that way,” he added.

  “I know. I’m not lost,” I said, adjusting my hat and giving him a nervous smile. I wasn’t sure why, but I had no desire to linger and talk to him. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said cheerfully. “Took me a while to learn the lay of the land. Nordrem is a much easier settlement to get around in.”

  An icy flood of adrenaline hit my veins and locked up my muscles. I couldn’t quite keep the look of shock off my face as the man smiled more widely and a hell of a lot more coldly.

  “You’ve heard of it?” he asked politely but with a knowing gleam in his eye.

  “Yes,” I murmured. Nordrem was the biggest settlement of the Greyclaw. It was where I’d lived. Seeing no point in pretending otherwise, I smiled at him and inclined my head. “I’m Iris Lisay.”

  “Nice to finally meet you,” he said. “Gordon Versk.” He stepped closer, and I stepped back, hugging my books. “Now, Ms. Lisay, we’re old neighbors. No need to be alarmed.”

  “I really need to be getting home.”

  “To your mate?” Versk asked. “How is Kallen these days?”