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Godric doesn’t seem amused. “I’m a shifter, Liliana. Get used to it.”
He brushes my fingers from my eyes, and I can’t help but drop my gaze to his enormous package.
I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that.
A quick scan seems to tell him I’m unharmed. Now that he knows I’m okay, I suspect he’s not as angry.
There’s the slightest curve of his lips before he scoops me up into his arms and presses me against his chest. His scent of cedar and smoke overtakes the notes of blood splattered over him that I try not to think too hard about.
“I can walk, you know,” I protest as he starts heading us back toward the camp.
“I know,” he says, leaving no room for debate.
He’s going to carry me anyway.
I glance back, but there’s no further sign of the Outcast. He’s gone again.
“Are you working with Arwan and Ze’ev?” I ask.
He stumbles. I’m not sure if he’s surprised I know that name or if he’s hurt and some of the blood I spotted on him is actually his. It’s hard to tell. “Not willingly,” he admits. “But you’re linked to all three of us. I don’t have much of a choice if I want my pack to survive King Njord’s idea of amusement.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
He ducks underneath a branch, then winces and continues walking.
He’s definitely injured. I’m sure of it now, but I don’t point it out. I have a feeling that Godric is more stubborn than I am when it comes to his pride.
“Sponsors don’t choose their candidates,” he begins. “The candidates choose their sponsors. And you’ve chosen three. That’s unusual.”
I widen my eyes. “What do you mean, I’ve chosen three sponsors?”
He pauses again, then matches my gaze. I can’t look away from his amber eyes as I track the golden flecks in his irises.
“You sought us out on the slave ship. You ran right to Arwan and to me. Then you called the Outcast to cross the entire isle to follow the train back to the camp. You wouldn’t be aware of it, but that’s how it works.”
“How?” I ask, bewildered.
I somehow know that everything Godric is saying is true, but it doesn’t make logical sense.
“I’m human,” I protest. “How could I ‘choose’ anyone?”
“Every human sent to this isle is given water from the direct streams that run through it,” he answers as if that explains everything. At my blank stare, he elaborates. “The streams contain thousands of years of monster influence, including magic, blood, and physical manifestations from the parallel realms our ancestors are from, such as the Realm of Death and the Moon Realm.”
I think back to the sweet-tasting water I’d been given on the ship. “I thought they’d been adding sugar to it,” I murmur.
Then I frown when I recall that Ze’ev had given me a full-blown swig of that very water just a few moments ago.
Godric grins at my description of the taste. “Did you notice it was bitter for others? You’re highly compatible with the species here.” His smile vanishes. “That makes you a target. And not in a good way. I’ve done what I can to protect you, but you didn’t just choose me. You chose three of us, and I don’t exactly get along with the Prince of Death, or an Outcast who only cares about his revenge. If King Njord finds out that he’s involved, he’s going to demand more pre-trials. And Ze’ev already seems game for that, considering he just used you to eliminate three of his rivals.” He shows his teeth. “I, on the other hand, am not willing to risk your life like that.”
I make a mental note to question Ze’ev about his vendetta. I can relate to experiencing injustice and the scar that leaves behind.
But I don’t appreciate being “used,” as Godric put it.
Sadness fills me. Fated mates aren’t uncommon in my world, but this place is too brutal. Something like a mate bond that is supposed to be sacred and beautiful has been twisted into something perverse.
It’s been turned into a game.
Godric strokes my arm as if he senses the shift in my mood.
