Chapter 30: Chapter 30

Lily

Pine trees arched above them, bottle-green needles thick enough to cast the day in shadow. Lily wriggled her fingers, her hand snug against Elijah’s.

“Look.” He pulled her gently to a halt. “Just there.” Using their joined hands, he pointed to the blur of green ahead of them. Even squinting, her eyes better attuned to the world than most of the creatures that shared their continent, she was hard-pressed to make out more than a smudge of brown and grey amongst the brush of green that made up the horizon.

“What is it?”

“That’s my – home.”

She frowned over his sudden pause, loosening her grip on his hand as she wondered what it was he’d originally intended to say. She’d softened towards him during their journey – alarmingly so – and yet she still knew startlingly little about him.

Perhaps their arrival at his home would answer more of her questions.

“It looks lovely,” she said, her lips splitting into a small smirk. “I really like what you’ve done with it.”

He sighed, and then tugged her by the hand back into a walk. “I’m not listening.” Despite his cold remark, he too was smiling.

“Shame,” Lily retorted. “I’m a marvellous conversationalist.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“I thought you weren’t listening.”

He laughed, the sound loose, joyous. She noted the slight slouch of his shoulders, the lack of tension in his neck and jaw. Lily squeezed his hand.

“I’m sure it really is lovely, Elijah.”

“I like it well enough.” He glanced down at her, eyes gentle, before he nodded to the brown-grey blur ahead. “We’re coming in on the only open side. The natural defences are why our ancestors chose this part of Eldda to settle in.”

If this side was open, Lily dreaded to think what the terrain surrounding the rest of their territory looked like. Dense pines filtered the sunlight, dousing the dapples breaking through the shade in a strange green light. Getting any sort of army through these trees would be almost impossible.

Then again, she thought, it would be easy for spies to lurk in the shadows. Shaking herself, Lily discarded such morbid musings.

“Are you sure there’s anything other than pine trees here?”

He grinned. “I’m sure. It’s not far now.”

Though they’d spent a little over a week together all in all, Lily’s belly clenched at the thought of meeting his family, his friends. They hardly knew each other, and yet…

And yet this felt important. Being with him felt right, and – even now, even as a homeless rogue with far bigger problems – Lily wanted to make a good impression on his pack. She wanted them to see how right it was, too.

After sharing a bed in Entra, Elijah had steadfastly remained outside of their canvas tent, claiming he was keeping watch. Lying alone on her bedroll, Lily had found herself longing for his unfamiliar warmth beneath the covers. They’d danced around the subject of their strange attachment, sharing stories that told the other very little. Lily now knew how much Elijah cherished his carefree childhood days picking wild berries in the woods, but she had no idea what made him burn.

And, as they’d neared his pack, his home, she’d begun to wonder who she was without the binding ties of family and loyalty. Beyond the push-and-pull of her relationships, of her much-scorned responsibility to the Blood Moon pack, Lily was quickly finding that she didn’t know that much about herself either.

Before, her life had been a series of contrasts. Right and wrong. War and peace. Life… and death. But now, cast away from the strict hierarchy of pack life, lost in the wilderness amongst creatures she’d once scarcely dared imagine, she thought she might have found something more.

Two men, both broad and with knives strapped to their biceps, were coming towards them. They strode easily between the trees, picking out pathways amongst the fallen needles and cones. Lily blanched.

“There!” she hissed, drawing her sword. Unceremoniously, she shoved Elijah behind a tree.

But he only laughed. Crouching behind the tree with her, he whispered, “I see them. The one on the left is Nethia. The one on the right is Lafey. They’re Warrior Wolves.”

“Oh.” Lily stood. Squinting through winding leaves, she cocked her head at the pair. The one on the left – Nethia – was the shorter of the two, though he’d still stand at least a head taller than her, she estimated. Even walking the perimeter – another assumption on her part – he was grinning, and, much to Lily’s chagrin at her overreaction, she saw him kick fallen branches with childlike glee.

“Glad to see he’s enjoying himself,” Elijah muttered, his tone unusually dry, and something in Lily’s chest eased. No matter the complications between them, this was his home. He felt safe here and, for whatever reason, so did she.

Lafey nudged his companion as they neared. “Hear that?”

“Hm?” Nethia looked up, dark eyes – an uncommon shade of sea blue so deep it was almost black – tightening in interest. He brushed a hand through the mess of brown curls on his head, revealing a long, narrow scar that ran from his cheekbone back into his hairline before disappearing.

“Voices.” Lafey stilled. His muscles rippled with tension. Though less rugged than Nethia, he carried himself with the sleekness of silk over steel, his short dark hair and skin seeming to glow even as he paused to listen.

Lily struggled to hold in her laugh, the absurdity of it all rising in her throat. Elijah shook his head at her, amusement lighting his gaze. Holding a finger to his lips, his jerked his head towards the next tree along. Comprehension struck her, and she nodded.

This was nothing like the man she’d travelled with. There had been moments of joy, of kinship, where it had felt to her as though she’d known Elijah her whole life. As they’d neared the Sea Pine pack he’d started to relax, the quiet alertness draining from his body almost entirely the night before. He’d ventured away from their makeshift camp with her, searching for night-blooming whitedrift grazing the sides of the pine trees.

“I’ve never even heard of it before,” Lily had admitted, stealing through silent copses of trees. She did know, however, that bowstrings were attracted to any night-blooming plant, so she kept her garnet-encrusted sword steady in her hand.

“It only grows in coastal regions of Eldda,” he’d murmured back. “Your pack’s territory is in the centre of the continent.”

"Is it?" she'd retorted wryly. "I had no idea."

She’d wanted to ask how he knew so much about the Blood Moon pack. Though infamous, it wasn’t common for the average wolf to have such a clear map of territory lines memorised. Lily knew where the packs surrounding her own lay, but only due to their proximity. She’d heard little of Elijah’s pack, and hardly knew what she was walking towards.

But then she’d had her first glimpse of the night-blooming whitedrift, and all thoughts of borders and packs had been swept away. It crept gracefully up the trunks of the pines hemming them in, twirling up towards their branches and extending out along them. Speckles of white-gold and blue dusted their small flowers, intertwining until they looked like pale sparkles on a clear, calm sea.

“It’s like the stars, don’t you think?” Elijah had whispered, running a scarred hand across them gently.

“No,” Lily had said, her voice soft. “It’s like their reflection, dotted across the open sea.” She’d seen the water only once, and had seen its expanse – felt the raw, earthen power it held – and felt only terror. But in that quiet moment, she had reimagined that fear, carving it into a new shape: awe.

Elijah had been contemplative, thoughtful. But Lily had rarely seen the side of him she now saw, following him once more through tightly-woven trees, his sides swelling with repressed laughter.

Grinning to herself, she followed Elijah as he followed the Warrior Wolves. They seemed nothing like the ones in the pack she’d left behind, Nethia especially. Perhaps… perhaps she’d always been meant to leave Blood Moon. Perhaps she’d find her place here, with Elijah, and she’d find herself along the way.

And then Elijah stopped. Shaking his head, he turned to face her.

“I… I don’t think we should.”

“Why?” Lily’s surprise was plain in her voice. They’d had a plan – sort of. Follow Nethia and Lafey, jump out at them, and then…

Then what? Laughs all round? Lily paused, suddenly unsure herself. They were still Warrior Wolves. The knives glinting at their biceps were a callous reminder that, Blood Moon or not, they were dangerous.

“It’s childish.” Elijah huffed under his breath.

Lily frowned at him. “I suppose it is.”

Elijah fussed with his hair, smoothing it down over his ears. “Come,” he said, holding out a hand. Filled with uncertainty, Lily took it. “I’ll introduce you.” Offering her an apologetic glance, he squeezed her palm.

They stepped out together. Nethia and Lafey were facing them, knives freed of their sheaths and held out towards them. Lafey’s wrist flicked back. Lily tensed. But the knife remained where it was, held loosely in place by his strong fingers.

Dropping his head back, Lafey let out a loud, raucous laugh. Beside him, Nethia lowered his blade and cracked an easy grin.

Lily smiled, her nerves falling away. But Elijah remained tense, even as both wolves dropped their heads forward into familiar bows. Her brain still struggling to process everything that had happened in the last few minutes, Lily did not immediately register the gesture as unusual. She’d seen it a thousand times before, after all.

But the single word spoken by both Nethia and Lafey in unison broke through her startled mind. “Alpha,” they greeted – greeted Elijah.

Hurt spread through her, sluicing along her veins. Ice and fire burned her flesh from her bones. Why hadn’t he said?

Spring-green eyes watched her; their frozen laughter and arrogance made her stumble back. One Alpha traded for another. Green eyes for grey, but otherwise the same.

She wasn’t enough for an Alpha. Never enough. And that… that hurt.

“Hey, lady? You don’t look so good.” Nethia’s words were distant, the barest whisper echoing down a long, cavernous tunnel.

Lily ignored him, turning instead to Elijah. “You’re the Alpha?” she asked, needing confirmation, needing to know. But the pain clouded her head, old morphing with new. It filled her vision with fog, and she barely knew what she was doing as she pushed away from him at his startled nod.