Page 139 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
She pressed each one into her skin likeink that would never fade.
Never forget.
And shesaw him doing the same.
‘I promise,’ he said.
Themis created the valkyrians to bring justice and balance to the world. And yet, they say that Eris and Enyo forced her into compliance, into allowing them to be a part of that creation. I’ve heard that if Themis dies, Eris and Enyo could take full control of the valkyrians. That they could turn them into something unseen ever before.
Tabitha Wysteria
Kage could scarcely comprehend how far Bryn had travelled in mere days. The mountain already loomed before them, vast and impenetrable, and the wolverian king had begun the arduous task of skirting its colossal spine. The path was treacherous. It was narrow, jagged, and carved with cruel intent, designed to ensure that no unwelcome soul ventured far into the Kingdom of Fauna without paying for it in blood or bone.
Kage did not know how he always managed to reappear so near to Bryn’s trail. It helped, of course, that Bryn left markings upon bark and stone; quiet signals only Kage would understand. For the first time in longer than he could remember, something inside him softened.
He smiled.
He found Bryn higher up the path, boots steady uponthe rock, a pack of wolves padding faithfully behind him. The moment Kage revealed himself, every head snapped towards him, lips curling, low growls rippling through the thin mountain air.
‘They say this mountain was built by one of da gods,’ Bryn said as they pressed on, voice carrying easily across the stone. ‘There was a fight with Persephone over da lands. Couldn’t come to an agreement. So da god tore da earth open and raised this to keep both realms apart.’
Kage let his gaze travel up the jagged cliffs, sharp as broken teeth against the sky. ‘Sounds about right,’ he muttered, irritation threading through his tone at the mere mention of Persephone.
‘What?’ Bryn frowned, glancing sideways at him.
‘Nothing,’ Kage replied, though the word tasted like ash.
They walked for hours without speaking. At times the path narrowed so cruelly that they were forced into single file, boots placed carefully in the indent left by the other. No army could hope to pass through such a passage unnoticed; it was a vein carved into the mountain’s flesh, meant for solitary travellers and secrets, not banners and marching drums. Kage knew that those who understood the land would use this way to slip between kingdoms like shadows, unseen and unchallenged.
When night swallowed the last of the light and the wind turned bitter, they found a shallow opening in the mountain’s side and took shelter within. The air inside was cold but still, the stone breathing faint dampness. Bryn shrugged off his thick furs and laid them across the ground to make a bed. Then, without ceremony, he stripped off his shirt and stepped beneath the thin ribbon of water that trickled down the rock face.
Kage watched.
Water ran over muscle and bone, and over scars.
There were dozens of them. Pale, angry lines that crossed Bryn’s back and chest like a map of violence.
‘You never told me exactly what happened,’ Kage said quietly.
Bryn stilled. His gaze dropped to his own body, and a slow breath left him.
‘Caldwell was me papa’s second in command,’ he began, voice roughened by memory. ‘But he’d been wanting da throne for years. I always knew he’d be trouble one day.’ His jaw tightened. ‘When we found me entire family butchered, he challenged me for da crown.’
The mountain seemed to hold its breath.
‘But he cheated,’ Bryn continued, fury flickering beneath the words. ‘His men stabbed me over and over, left me there thinking I’d bleed out like a dog.’
Kage’s dark eyes widened, the image forming far too easily in his mind.
‘It is not our way,’ Bryn said, something wounded and wrathful threading through his tone. ‘We fight with honour. With dignity. Not like that.’
Kage glanced at the wolves curled within the cramped hollow, their bodies pressed closely together.
‘Why didn’t the wolves protect you from Caldwell?’ Kage asked quietly.
Bryn stilled.
His attention lingered on the pack for a long moment, a faint crease forming between his brows. He pulled his shirt back over his scarred torso and lowered himself onto the thick furs. The air here had shifted—no longer the sharp bite of wolverian frost, but something heavier, almost humid. They could forgo a fire.
