“You guys go on,” she called. “I’m going to call it a night.”
Her friends turned back to her, Fenrir’s arm dropping from Mirra’s shoulders.
“You’re leaving already?” Fenrir’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
Aelia shrugged. “I need to get some bits ready for tomorrow.”
It wasn’t a lie. Everyone had to bring something for the feast the following evening, and she hadn’t prepared anything yet. Fenrir and Mirra exchanged a glance before stepping back towards her.
Mirra checked no one was close enough to hear over the chatter bubbling around them, but spoke in a whisper anyway. “If you’re going hunting again, you need to stop. You’re going way too often.”
“Winter is only a few short months away. If I don’t go, we’ll have another winter like the ones we grew up with.” Aelia triedto keep the frustration out of her voice, fed up with having this conversation.
“I’m not saying don’t go at all,” Mirra leant closer, still whispering. “I’m just saying you need to be careful or you’re going to get caught.”
“She’s right,” Fenrir interjected, all trace of humour having disappeared from his face. “You’re pushing your luck as it is.”
“Not all of us have the luxury of being admitted into a hunting party, Fenrir.” Aelia argued, bitterness coating her tongue. As any artemian, he’d have it easier than either of them. As a Wolf, he had it easier than either of them could dream of. Food, money, respect; Fenrir didn’t have to worry about any of it.
“You know I’ll bring you back what you need, you don’t need to risk pissing off the council for the sake of hunting it yourself,” he shot right back, completely unaware how much his generosity stung.
She wasn’t human, but she might as well have been. Her irises were ringed with the same black magic that encircled Fenrir’s, but for reasons no one could understand, she’d never developed the ability to Shift. Her childhood had come and gone, with all the other artemian children growing into their magic… and yet hers had never appeared. And that’s when her life had gone to shit.
Sure, she had other traits besides the tell-tale ring of magic in her eyes; she was faster and stronger than any artemian she knew, by a long shot, but none of that mattered. She had no second form, so she was treated as human. As less.
“I know, and I love you for it.” She tried to unclench her teeth, just wanting to get out of there. “But I won’t get caught. Tonight is perfect, no one is going to notice me missing, and no one is going to be out there to spot any sign of me.”
She had him there, and he knew it. His mouth tightened into a firm line, the disapproval in his eyes boring into her.
“At least let me go with you.”
“Fenrir, rein in the possessive alpha bullshit. I’ll be fine,” she snapped, needing this conversation to be over.
Hurt flashed behind his eyes, but he blinked and it was gone. Artemians may look down on humans for almost everything, but they clung to their own humanity with a fervour that bordered on the obsessive. They all battled their more animalistic instincts, be they the aggressive tendencies of a predator, or the timidity of prey.
“Fine, just be careful, cover your tracks and keep to the east. We’re resting that portion of the forest to let the ecosystem recover so no hunting party will come across your scent there,” Fenrir said, his expression hard. “Come on, Mirra, let’s get some food.”
He didn’t wait for her before turning and stalking off.
“He’s only trying to look out for you,” Mirra scolded, quietly.
If Mirra was pissed with her, maybe she had taken it too far. Regret washed over Aelia, but she steeled herself against it. He would never have let her leave if she hadn’t pushed him away a bit. She’d make it up to him tomorrow.
“I don’t need his help,” Aelia said, watching Fenrir’s back recede through the crowd. Yeah, she’d definitely make it up to him tomorrow. Somehow.
“Everyone needs help sometimes, Aelia.” Mirra gave her one last disappointed frown before turning to follow Fenrir. “Stay safe.”
“I’ll see you in the morning. Have fun,” Aelia called after her.
She puffed out her cheeks and pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. That was not how she’d wanted the evening to end.
With guilt sitting heavily in her stomach, she slipped through the Peregrinian’s camp, familiar faces illuminated by thelanterns scattered amongst the trees as villagers milled between stalls.
She couldn’t help but scan them for a glimpse of the man with the fire, half tempted to head back to the performer’s section to look for him, but she squashed that thought. Everything about that man screamed trouble. There was no sign of him, but as she checked for what must have been the hundredth time since she’d seen him earlier that night, she caught sight of her guardian, Otis.
He was locked in conversation with a group of people she didn’t recognise, listening attentively to whatever the man standing opposite him was saying. He stood holding a tankard with his one good arm, his other hidden beneath his jacket, hanging useless and wizened out of sight. Otis had never told her how he’d lost the use of it, and he’d made it very clear it wasn’t open for discussion.
Feeling her gaze on him, his eyes lifted to hers, and the crinkles around them deepened in a smile. He raised his tankard to her by way of greeting, and she dipped her head back at him, her smile matching his. With a wave, she left him to his evening, knowing he’d be out until late, prying information out of the Peregrinians. Their village was small and tucked away, and the news the Peregrinian’s brought with them about the rest of the country was just as valuable as the opportunities for trade.
