“Until the day I knocked the smugness off that big head of his. Been thick as thieves ever since.”
She laughed under her breath. “What about his abilities? I haven’t seen anything magical.”
“Because there isn’t,” Jakobav said as he stopped sharpening his blade. “He doesn’t have any, not in Dravaryn at least. Doesn’t need them.”
He looked at her then, eyes steady and dark. “Don’t underestimate him, Ella. He’s in my circle for a reason. Best hand-to-hand fighter in the kingdom. Loyal beyond reason, despite not being born on this soil. And he can disarm a tense room with nothing but a dirty joke and that shit-eating grin.”
Ella smirked. “So the crass humor is tactical.”
“Unfortunately.” Jakobav rolled his eyes, the faintest trace of humor tugging at his mouth. “And now he’s got you smiling at it. Gods, not you too. Thane doesn’t need another fan.”
Her cheeks warmed. “I’m just…observing.”
“Uh-huh.” His tone was light, but his darkened expression told a different story, his brows knitting together as his jaw clenched.
Ella cleared her throat. “What about Maeren?”
Jakobav’s gaze went back to the fire, the light painting hard edges across his face. “My second,” he said. His voice was lower now, almost careful. “She was born to fight.”
He leaned into memory as though the words carried both significance and vulnerability. “She was always strong, even as a child. Stronger and faster than most boys her age. Terrifying compared to the other girls. Every Dravaryn girl trains with a blade, but Maeren was something else.”
Ella stayed quiet, listening.
“Her family always held rank, so her Claiming drew attention,” he went on. “But it was more than that. Her older brother died during his.”
A hush fell as Ella’s stomach tightened. She blinked, the hint of shock threading through her voice. “Her brother died during his Claiming ceremony?”
“Yes. It was a tragedy. He faced an arduous path in life, and in many ways, he was reckless. Brilliant, but wild. Funny, in a way that surprised people. Clever enough to invent things from scraps of magic that shouldn’t have worked, but they did. If he had stayed focused, he could have made more coin than half the realm. But he drank too much Fae wine. Smoked wraithleaf. Didn’t prepare like he should have. And the cost…” Jakobav exhaled. “It gutted her. Scared the hell out of her too.”
Ella’s chest tightened, but she didn’t interrupt.
“There’s a rumor,” he added, voice softer still, “that she received both their destined powers during her rite. Hers, and his. I don’t know if it’s true. But I know she only uses one set in public.”
Ella blinked. “What does she use?”
Jakobav looked up, firelight catching his eyes. “Maeren is what we call a Stonecaller.”
He let it register before continuing. “She doesn’t just shift the earth. She speaks to it. Calls, and it answers. I’ve seen her arm turn to basalt mid-strike. Her fists have splintered shields. I’ve seen her boots crack the ground like paper. But she doesn’t do it often. Says the stone remembers each request.”
His fingers flexed, as though the memory still lived in his muscles. “But when she does…” He met Ella’s eyes, gleaming in the firelight. “Gods help whoever stands in her way.”
Ella glanced down quickly, brushing away the emotion before he saw, and before it had a chance to consume her while already feeling raw. She wanted to hug Maeren the next timeshe saw her, and tell her how sorry she was for the loss of her brother, but she would wait until Maeren chose to share her story.
“Soren, then.”
Jakobav’s eyes gleamed faintly. “Ah. I’ve been waiting for you to ask about him. Peculiar, isn’t he?”
“He moves like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I’ve watched animals go still around him. I have to know what he is,” Ella murmured. “Even birds stop singing. It’s disturbing.”
“He’s an Earth-Vater,” Jakobav said. “He can become one with the earth as long as it’s dirt of some sort: soil, sand, mud. And not just camouflage. He disintegrates into it, burrowing into the world and coming out somewhere else.”
Ella went still. “Like a living tunnel.”
“Yes. He once described it as having access to bridges and shortcuts no one else can see. Makes him an exceptional spy. That’s why he’s in a rank of his own, Commander of Intel.”
Ella was captivated, and Jakobav went on. “Once, long before the King got sick, we were sent on a scouting mission to the deserts of Thirelle. A sandstorm rolled in. Bad one. Coated everything in dust. Tents, trees, even the horses looked like ghosts.”
His lips twitched. “Soren had a field day. I went to take a piss behind the only half-decent tree I could find, and he Vated right out of the sand-covered trunk next to me, like he’d been hiding there the whole time.”
