“Let’s say, for the sake of the argument, that it was.”
“Again, it’s hard to say without knowing exactly what you’re talking about…I would guess that if the person who cast it was directly tied to the curse, then their death might break it, but unless you tell me what you’re talking about there’s really no way for me to know for sure.”
Kai looks frustrated for a second, but then plasters a smile on his face. “Alright. Thanks for trying to help, Aurelia.”
“I can help more if you explain?—”
“No, no. This was enough. You should go back to the camp. It’s cold out.”
Before I can ask anything else, Kai jogs back toward the light of the many tents, leaving me to trudge after him alone.
The following day, Fox finally returns.
It’s late afternoon when he appears on the crest of the hill overlooking the training field, shoulders rigid, jaw clenched. There are four men, including Viktor, flanking him. All of them look equally exhausted.
I drop my training sword in the snow and run to him, telling myself that this is just part of pretending to be mated. It’s not real; I’m not actually so relieved to see him I could faint.
Fox looks startled when I throw myself at him, but he recovers quickly enough. Within a heartbeat, his arms encircle me and lift me off my feet. His performance is good enough that I’m sure it will convince anyone watching that he’s overjoyed to be reunited with his mate. I’m half convinced, even though I should know better.
Before he left, I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted from Fox, but spending the last few days alone has put things in a new perspective.
The mark on my neck is fading, which means Fox will have to bite me again either tonight or tomorrow. Just thinking about that is almost painfully arousing. I’m bored and lonely, and our forced proximity combined with the promise of at least one mind blowing orgasm means that I can’t focus on anything else.
Unfortunately, as Fox carries me back to the tent, it’s clear that he’s not having the same problem. Whatever he’s thinking about is obviously worlds away and far more serious than our messy relationship.
He puts me down the moment we step inside the tent and immediately strides over to the paper on the desk.
Are you alright?
I frown.
Yes. Why? Are you?
He shakes his head looking exhausted, and sure enough scribbles one word below my last question, then hands me the quill back with a weary expression. I bend to read his messy scrawl:
Tired.
Did the hunt go well?
Got the wyvern. Joran died.
I blink down at the name for a second, panic rising even as I’m unable to put a name to the face. I don’t know who that is. Should I?
I shake my head in confusion, mouthing “who?”
Fox sighs and writes:
Doesn’t matter. I just met him the other day, but he was a good fighter. Didn’t deserve to die.
I’m sorry.
He shrugs, and immediately his expression turns blank and unreadable.
“You should get some sleep,” I say out loud.
“We have to go to dinner,” he replies, seemingly too tired to point out that we shouldn’t speak out loud.
“I’ve gone to dinner by myself for the last three nights, I’ll be fine.”
