Goldwyn shook her head. “No, take the Bats barracks. I’m sure Tysion and Cole won’t mind moving.” A hint of mischief glinted. “Cai, Liora, transfer your stuff over this evening. That should give me time to talk to Wilder about it.”
Cai asked one last question: could he use magic during the quest? Goldwyn told him yes and excused herself, wishing us luck. I watched her go. A pulse of knee-quaking relief ran through me. The prospect of seeing Wilder tomorrow excited me more than it should have. Nothing could happen between us, so why couldn’t I let it go? Why couldn’t I turn these feelings off?
It doesn’t work like that, dear, Auntie said with a touch of sorrow.
No shit.
After Goldwyn left, our pack started a conversation we’d have on repeat over the next two days. Two long, tedious days.
How much food should we bring?
What might the quest object be?
What should we do if we got separated?
These questions, among others, were debated so thoroughly, it seemed inevitable we’d drive one another crazy. Only we didn’t. Adrianna would occasionally push against Cai’s decisions, but he never came across as threatened. Damn, he enjoyed it. Clearly Goldwyn hadn’t just chosen Cai because of his physical prowess. He was a leader, born and bred.
Whereas I was useless, with no strategical or geographical knowledge that could be helpful. During our daily meetings I acted as an interpreter for Frazer, who very quickly proved himself the more experienced warrior. And after a few probing questions from Adrianna, she accepted the bizarre nature of our connection under the guise it must be a latent magical gift. I didn’t tell her about the necklace. Not when Frazer didn’t even know about it. Of course, he deserved to know, but fear held me back. Liora and Cai seemed convinced it was powerful—dangerous, even—enough to be coveted. What if Frazer resented being dragged into that? That alone made me hesitate, but there was also his refusal to share anything about himself. It created a wall—a barrier between us—despite us being intimately connected every heartbeat. Because while his mind remained his own, our bond was more than shared thoughts, that much had become clear. Even when our minds weren’t connecting, our more intense emotions seeped through the strings that were now so tightly woven that I wondered if we’d ever untangle. That didn’t scare me nearly as much as the glimpses of the darkness, the grief that defied words, existing in the depths of his soul. And I was powerless to help so long as he acted like an animal afraid to show its underbelly to the world.
It wasn’t until the evening before we were due to leave that the effect of being shut out and sidelined as Frazer’s mouthpiece caught up to me.
“Serena,” Wilder barked, disarming me for the tenth time that session. “What in Zola’s fire is wrong with you? Usually you’d be dancing around too much; now you’re as stiff as a plank of wood.”
My sparring sword dropped to my side, hanging limply.
“Is it the new pack? Are you unhappy?”
I must have been miserable if the concern marking Wilder’s face couldn’t lift my spirits. “It’s nothing, really.”
With a twist of his wrist, he sheathed the blunt sword he’d been swinging. “Say what you need to.”
“How can I?” The words stuck in my throat. I swallowed hard. “You’re my instructor. You’re not here for me to complain to.”
“Ex-instructor,” Wilder corrected.
It was an effort not to smile. “Still, you can’t blame me for being guarded.”
“Skies above,” he rasped out. “If this is you guarded, I’d hate to think what you’re like normally.”
Shame and rage heated my blood, blotching my skin. I let the sword drop to the floor.
His eyes flitted to where the blade lay. “Serena Smith,” he growled, his gaze pinning me. “You are never to treat a weapon like that again, d’you hear me? Pick it up.”
I didn’t move. A haze of blue mist was descending over my mind. And a faint warning hiss sounded. Water was boiling somewhere.
Careful child.
“Serena?” Wilder showed me his palms. “Just tell me what’s wrong. I want to help.” He took a step toward me.
There, obvious concern.
I blinked. And the anger caved inward, leaving behind nothing but a black pit of insecurity and doubt. I shook my head clear, releasing the fog that clouded my mind.
Wilder ducked to grab the hilt of my sparring sword. He slipped it back into the sheath at my hip. We were so close—I fought the impulse to move into his scent. His eyes found mine.
“Ex-instructor,” I breathed.
I didn’t know what made me say it, but the creases around his eyes softened and his hand moved. Barely an inch, but it was the difference between him touching the hilt and my fingertips.
I was stuck, frozen. Think. Do something!
Any daring plans to seduce him died when his gaze moved to where the droplet lay.
“May I?” He motioned with his hand.
I gave a nod and his fingers brushed my neckline, along the chain. The slightest touch—a graze. But it still set my nerve endings alight, drying my mouth out. Wilder dipped below my jacket and held the droplet for a heartbeat, and then his eyes fluttered upward.
“Is this what burns away the shyness and insecurity?” he mused.
My breathing hitched and my heart was going so fast; so very, very fast. It wasn’t just the lust though. It was the discomfort of having my failings repeated back to me.
“I wish they hadn’t chosen me,” I blurted out.
Eyes widening, he tucked the droplet back under my top and his hand fell from my neck.
“I love them. I mean, I love Cai and Liora and Frazer. And although she ignored me for weeks, I liked Adrianna the moment she offered to help me on that first day.”
“And yet …” Wilder prompted.
“I see their worth.”
Wilder’s jaw clenched; his mouth set with silent disapproval. “But not your own.”
A nod. “Liora chose me because we’re friends. Now, I’m in a pack with two of the best fae warriors here, and two witches—”
“Liora isn’t powerful though. I’ve never scented magic on her,” he reflected, frowning.
Not true, of course, but Cai’s spell prohibited me from saying much in her defense. “It doesn’t matter. She’s the center, the heart.”
“And what are you, Serena?” Wilder said lightly, searching my face.
“That’s what I’m saying—I don’t contribute anything.”
I couldn’t hold his gaze. My eyes dropped to the mean-looking daggers at his hips.
“Perhaps,” he began slowly, “you should try seeing your own worth before you go putting everyone else on a pedestal.”
Those words cut deep. “What makes you think if I look, I’ll find anything?”
An attempt at a self-deprecating joke. A total sham, it was met with silence.
Peeking up at him from under my lashes, the brightness in his eyes told me he’d seen through me. “There’s everything to find, but you need to learn to see it; otherwise, no matter how many times your friends praise you, or how many lovers show you affection …” Green eyes fluttered to my lip. I forgot my own name. “… you’ll never believe them. And all the compliments in the world won’t mean a damned thing.”
I hated myself for needing to hear his approval. He sighed and took a step back. I almost reached out to stop him. “If it makes you feel any better, Kovaysi, I speak from personal experience.”
I gaped. “What have you got to feel insecure about?”
He blinked; he actually seemed thrown by the question. “I’m a grown male. I have the scars of dozens of battles. And …” he stumbled, his exhale coming out in a whooshing sound. “Never mind.”
“Don’t stop.”
He fixed me with a hard stare. “I used to be a Sabu—”
I nodded.
“You knew that?”
“Goldwyn,” I said by way of an explanation.
He snorted. “Of course. Well, once I had that honor, and now look at me, training foot soldiers in a court on its last legs.”
A raw, bleak smile.
I shifted, rolling to my other hip. “A court on its last legs?”
Wilder tilted his head. “I’ll answer that question when you’ve finished these trials and I’m not bound by my position as a mentor.”