“I didn’t know who you were,” Keeran retorted with a snarl. “You told me you were an officer of the King’s army, you never said anything about being the leader of the Astraea.”
“But I am one and the same.” Beserkir opened his arms wide, presenting his chest to Keeran with a proud smile. “Elder Beserkir, at the King’s service.”
“I know that now.” The monster inside Keeran lunged, yanking on its leash as it goaded him into taking Beserkir out. “But I’d never have told you about the festival had I known who you were.”
Self-loathing vied with his hatred of the man in front of him. He’d allowed Beserkir to trick him, to play him, and it had cost Aelia everything. Just one flash of fire would be enough to take out his comrades, then he could have his fun with Beserkir.
No. What if Aelia wanted to see the bodies? She didn’t know about the fire magic yet, and presenting her with dozens of piles of smouldering ash wasn’t going to help her trust him. He’d need to ease her into that one. He’d have to take them out the old-fashioned way, not that he minded.
Beserkir leant in closer, his expression suddenly hard and unyielding.
“You’re forgetting you had no choice. It was help us, or face the noose,” he reminded Keeran, with dark satisfaction.
It wasn’t strictly true. When Beserkir had confronted Keeran, it had been an inconvenience, sure. But to hang him, they’d have to catch him, and that was never going to happen.
He’d had a choice. He could either have killed the man who claimed to be an officer of the king and risk drawing attention to the area, which would get in the way of the murders he was actually interested in committing. Or he could pretend to be under the man’s thumb, feeding him seemingly harmless information about the Peregrinian’s plans in Callodosis.
In retrospect, it was a stroke of genius on Beserkir’s part. He knew how whole towns and villages came together for celebrations when the Peregrinians were in town, and knowingwhen and where meant he could swoop in with the knowledge that all the humans would be gathered in one place.
Keeran had made the wrong choice, and he’d carry the consequences with him for the rest of his life.
“I came because I wanted to understand,” Keeran said, half truthfully. “You made me complicit in what you did. At least show me the courtesy of telling me what you’re doing with the humans you captured.”
“Arrested,” Beserkir corrected. “We’re arresting the humans on the King’s orders. Then they’re transported back to Llmera, where they are examined. If they pass that stage, they are shipped to Ideolanthea as part of the treaty the King has established between us and our volatile neighbours to the north. We give them our humans, and they allow us to stay out of their war. Be grateful, Keeran. Were it not for the King’s ingenuity, we’d be across the sea in Mithrylaya fighting in their armies quicker than you could say ‘genocide’.”
Before Keeran could process this information, he was flooded by a wave of rageful terror, so powerful he almost swayed where he stood. Beserkir was still talking, but the noise was lost in the barrage of emotions coursing into him. It took him a few moments to realise they weren’t his own.
Aelia. She was in danger.
He had no idea how the pair bond worked, and thus far, it seemed a temperamental thing, utterly uncontrollable. But he sank into the emotions pummelling into him, trying to feel something past them, to catch a glimpse of something, anything that might help him locate her.
An intangible force drew his eye across the clearing, just in time to see a shadow slink over the brow of the hill.
The other side of him dropped to a crouch, tail flicking in agitation. They knew that shadow, that wastheirshadow.
His heart turned cold, sending shivers of panic through his veins. How much had she heard? Keeran forced his eyes back to Beserkir, not wanting to draw any attention to where Aelia was making her escape down the bank opposite.
“You’re right, sending them to Ideolanthea is the lesser of the two evils. I’ll do anything I can to keep Demuto out of that war. What do you need from me?” Keeran lied, needing this conversation over as quickly as possible.
Beserkir smiled. “Rather them than us, right brother?”
Keeran forced himself to smile. He would come back and murder these bastards, but right now, he had to get to Aelia.
Keeran stormed awayfrom the Astraea, trembling from the effort of not stalking right back and putting each and every one of them on the wrong side of the grass. His cheeks burned with the strain of smiling with Beserkir, saying anything that would get him out of there as quickly as possible.
His palms were clammy at the thought of what Aelia might have heard. The pair bond had gone cold, and he had no idea how to trigger it again. So, he jogged into the darkness, making sure he was well and truly out of sight before he Shifted and took to the skies. It was risky this close to someone with the ear of the King, but Keeran couldn’t give a fuck. He had to find Aelia.
His wings beat the air, taking him high enough to survey the ground below. She had nothing with her, not even a saddle, but would she even return to the camp?
To his immense relief, she had. He spotted her tearing through the grass at breakneck speed, low over her horse's neck as she raced back to the speck of fire in the distance that marked their camp. He circled over her, too high for her to sense hispresence, just in case she came off, but she made it back without any trouble.
He landed a safe distance away before sprinting towards the camp with every iota of strength he possessed. The muscles of his thighs bunched beneath him as he strained towards her, terrified she’d be gone before he got there. He almost sagged in relief when he rounded the corner of the ruined walls to find her buckling her pack to her saddle. She leapt out of her skin when she saw him, but her fear turned to hatred so quickly it almost stopped him dead. Almost.
“Stay the fuck away from me,” she seethed, teeth flashing in the night.
He didn’t listen. There was no way he was letting her get on that horse. Not before he’d explained himself to her. He was still several strides away and, seeing him making a beeline straight for her, she tried to swing herself into the saddle. He was by her side in a blur of movement, grabbing her thigh and pulling her back to the ground.
“No,” he hissed. “You don’t get to run off again. Not without hearing me out.”
