The shadow paused for two seconds. Then continued.
My wolf registered her scent and the anger surfaced immediately. The shove she’d given Mira on the sparring ground. Reckless and cruel regardless of the context. The conversation I would need to have with her about that.
Not now. Later. When my mate wasn’t breathing against my skin and the bond wasn’t still settling into its new shape.
Giselle’s silhouette crossed the clearing and ducked into Annora’s tent without hesitation.
It was when I knew that she was choosing a new commanding officer.
I don’t really care unless it would harm Mira. I better not find out any more attempts against my mate or the last of my patience and respect for her as a comrade will be forgotten. She’ll meet me as Veyndral’s enforcer.
Mira hadn’t noticed. Her eyes were closed, the bond pulsing between us in waves that neither of us was ready to interrupt.
I let the moment hold.
Her breathing evened. The fight and the forgiveness and the weight of the morning pulling her toward a rest she’d been denying herself for weeks.
“Stay,” I said.
“I wasn’t planning on leaving.”
Her body shifted against mine until her head rested on my shoulder and the bump pressed against my ribs.
Three channels in the bond network. Two open. One remaining.
I adjusted the blanket over her shoulders, repositioning the water one inch closer.
The den was never finished. But it was ours now, and that changed the architecture of everything.
62
— • —
Mira
The drainage tunnel smelled worse every time.
My knees found the same grooves, my shoulders grazed the same rusted pipe junctions, and the nausea hit at the same bend near the eastern exit. I emerged into the forest and started the eight-mile walk south. The bond pulled me toward camp with a gravitational force that made the distance feel offensive.
Percy’s channel burned bright. Solomon’s channel was quieter. A low frequency that pulsed with awareness. The third channel stayed closed. Lucian’s. And the absence of it ached in a way I couldn’t ignore much longer.
Camp materialized through the trees just after midnight.
Farmon had left prenatal tea beside my bedroll, still warm, which meant Solomon had ground the herbs and Farmon had brewed them and neither would admit to the coordination.
I sat in the den Solomon built, drank the tea, and let the two open channels wash through me until my hands stopped trembling.
A voice carried from the perimeter.
Annora sat at the eastern watch post with Giselle. Heads close, conversation pitched for wolf ears only. The moment my gaze found them, both went silent. Annora met my eyes across the clearing and didn’t look away. She wanted me to know they’d been talking.
Giselle’s posture had shifted since the last time I’d seen her. She used to angle toward Solomon, oriented around his authority. Now she sat angled toward Annora. The soldier had chosen a new commanding officer.
I rolled my eyes, finished the tea, and went to sleep.
***
The briefing ended at noon. Solomon was focused on patrol logistics. Lucian was at the command area with Wyatt to review schematics while Percy joined the converted hunters for a training rotation near the eastern tree line.
