Chapter 27

Chapter 27: Chapter 27

The Mistwood was worse than Nyra had imagined.

The fog was a living thing, curling around their ankles and slithering between the trees like a predator that didn’t need to hurry because it knew they couldn’t escape. The canopy above was so thick that only slivers of gray light made it through, casting everything in a perpetual twilight. Sounds came from everywhere and nowhere the rustle of leaves when there was no wind, the crack of branches under feet that weren’t theirs, the distant cry of something that might have been a bird or might have been something far worse.

Nyra kept her hand on the hilt of her short sword and her eyes on Soren’s back.

He was walking at the front of the formation, his broad shoulders cutting through the mist like a blade. And beside him always beside him was Valeria.

She had been glued to his side since they’d entered the forest. Her hand brushed his arm when she pointed at something in the trees. She leaned close to murmur observations meant only for him. When the terrain grew rough, she steadied herself on his shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

And Soren let her.

That was the part Nyra couldn’t understand. He didn’t pull away. Didn’t step back. Didn’t do any of the things he’d done in the briefing room when Valeria had tried to touch his cheek. He just... allowed it. As if her presence was expected. As if Nyra’s coldness the day before had given him permission to let Valeria back in.

You pushed him away, she reminded herself. You pulled your hand from his grip. You told him you didn’t want to talk. What did you expect?

She expected him to fight for her. She hated that she expected it. She hated that she wanted it. But she did.

A branch snapped under her boot, and she realized she’d been walking too hard, her frustration bleeding into her footsteps. Orion glanced back at her from his position at the rear, one eyebrow raised.

"Something on your mind, Prince?"

"Nothing."

"Good. Keep it that way. Distraction gets people killed."

She forced her attention back to the forest. Back to the mission. Back to anything that wasn’t the sight of Valeria Morvane’s hand resting in the crook of Soren’s elbow.

Ahead of them, Silas materialized out of the fog like a ghost. The fast-talking Beta was unusually subdued, his sharp eyes scanning the treeline with nervous precision.

"No sign of rogues," he reported, keeping his voice low. "But I found tracks. Recent. Something passed through here maybe an hour ago. Maybe less."

"How many?" Soren asked.

"Hard to tell. The ground is too soft. But more than one. More than three."

Soren nodded. "Stay sharp. They could be watching us right now."

"Comforting," Orion muttered. "Really comforting."

They pushed on.

Draven walked near the middle of the formation, his hand resting on the axe strapped to his back. His eyes weren’t on the forest. They were on Nyra.

Soon, he thought. Killian said to wait for the right moment. The fog will cover everything. No one will see. No one will know.

He kept his distance. Bided his time. And imagined the look on Killian’s face when he returned victorious.

Hours passed. The forest didn’t change. The fog didn’t lift. The sense of being watched didn’t fade.

Soren finally called a halt in a small clearing where the trees thinned just enough to see the sky. It was a miserable patch of ground damp moss and twisted roots and a single fallen log that served as the only seating but it was defensible, and that was what mattered.

"We rest here," Soren announced. "One hour. Eat something. Drink water. Check your weapons." His eyes swept across the team. "We’ll set a watch rotation. Two at a time. First shift: Elias and Draven. Second shift: Orion and Silas. Third shift: Thorne and me."

Nyra’s stomach twisted. Of course. Of course he’d put us together.

Valeria’s expression flickered—irritation, quickly masked. "I can take the third shift with you, Soren. Let the prince rest."

"No. You need your energy for the morning. Thorne can handle it." Soren’s voice was final. "That’s an order."

Valeria’s jaw tightened, but she nodded. "As you wish."

She settled onto the fallen log with her crossbow across her lap, her eyes following Nyra with cold calculation.

Nyra found a spot at the edge of the clearing, her back against a tree, her sword across her knees. She drank from her waterskin and tried not to think about the fact that in a few hours, she would be alone with Soren for the first time since she’d pulled away from him in the corridor.

It’s fine. It’s just watch duty. We don’t have to talk.

She didn’t believe herself for a second.

Across the forest, in a different sector of the Mistwood, Corvin was cleaning blood from his hands.

The rogue had come out of nowhere a massive, scarred wolf with eyes that held no reason, no recognition, nothing but hunger. It had lunged at Brock Grim, who had frozen in terror, and Corvin had been forced to act.

His blade was still wet. The rogue’s body lay crumpled at the edge of the trail, its blood pooling dark on the moss.

"Is everyone alright?" Corvin’s voice was steady, but his heart was still hammering.

"Fine," Lucian said, though his face was pale. "Brock’s shaken up, but he’s not hurt."

"Good. Stay alert. Where there’s one rogue, there are more."

Jasper knelt beside the dead wolf, examining its markings. "This one was alone. No pack scent on it. It might have been a scout."

"Or it might have been driven out by something worse." Corvin wiped his blade clean. "Either way, we keep moving. The rogues know we’re here now."

His team fell back into formation, Brock stumbling slightly as he walked. Corvin’s mind, however, was elsewhere.

Nyra. Soren’s team took the eastern sector. If the rogues are this aggressive here, what are they facing over there?

He pushed the thought aside. She had Soren. She had the pendant. She would be fine.

She had to be.

Ragnar’s team had found trouble of their own.

A ravine had split the ground ahead of them, too wide to jump and too deep to climb. The map Soren had shown them didn’t mention a ravine. Either the map was outdated, or the forest had changed since it was drawn.

"Options?" Ragnar demanded.

"We go around," Lyra Ashford said. "It’ll add time, but it’s safer than trying to cross."

"How much time?"

"Hours. Maybe more."

Ragnar swore under his breath. Finn, standing beside him, touched his arm briefly a gesture of reassurance that no one else noticed.

"Then we go around," Ragnar said. "Move out. Stay close. I don’t want anyone falling into that thing."

They turned west, skirting the edge of the ravine, and the forest swallowed them whole.

Team Delta, under Proctor Kane’s direct supervision, had encountered nothing at all.

Nikolai walked near the front, his eyes scanning the treeline with cold efficiency. Xavier was beside him, his usual charm muted by the oppressive atmosphere of the forest. Killian brought up the rear, his thoughts far from the mission.

Corvin is out here somewhere. He could be hurt. He could be dead. And I’m stuck on this team, chasing rogues instead of watching his back.

The jealousy that had been simmering in his chest since the courtyard had not faded. If anything, the forest had made it worse. The dark. The isolation. The knowledge that Thorne Astrlyn was somewhere out there, probably clinging to Soren’s side, probably soaking up the protection of two Alphas while Killian had nothing.

If Draven does his job, none of this will matter. Thorne will be dead, and Corvin will finally see me.

He clung to that thought like a lifeline.

Night fell quickly in the Mistwood, the already-dim light fading to absolute blackness in what felt like minutes. The team’s torches cast flickering pools of orange that seemed to push back the dark but never quite defeat it.

Nyra took her position at the edge of the camp, her back to the fire, her eyes on the forest. The others were settling into their bedrolls Orion already snoring, Silas muttering in his sleep, Elias as silent in rest as he was in waking. Draven lay with his back to everyone, his axe within arm’s reach. Valeria was the last to lie down, her eyes lingering on Soren with something that looked almost like longing.

Then it was just the two of them.

The silence was unbearable.

Nyra stared at the trees, counting the shadows, marking the places where the fog moved in ways it shouldn’t. She could feel Soren behind her, a warmth at her back, a presence she couldn’t ignore no matter how hard she tried.

"You’ve been watching me all day."

His voice was low, rough.

Nyra’s spine stiffened. "I’ve been watching the forest."

"You’ve been watching me. Every time I looked back, your eyes were on me." He moved closer, his footsteps silent on the moss. "Why?"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"You do." He was beside her now, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body. "Why did you pull away from me in the corridor yesterday? What did I do?"

The question hit her like a punch. She turned to face him, and the firelight caught the sharp planes of his face, the dark intensity of his eyes.

"You didn’t do anything," she said. "That was the problem."

"I don’t understand."

"No. You wouldn’t." She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You spent the whole briefing with Valeria. You let her touch you. You let her hold your arm. You walked past me this morning like I was invisible."

"You told me you didn’t want to talk. I was respecting your wishes."

"I didn’t want to talk because I was angry. Because I saw you with her and I—" She stopped. The words caught in her throat.

"And you what?"

"Nothing. Forget it."

"No." He stepped closer. His hand caught her chin, tilting her face up toward his. "And you what, Nyra?"

The sound of her real name on his lips made something crack open inside her.

"And I was jealous," she whispered. "Is that what you want to hear? I was jealous. I saw you with her, and I hated it. I hated the way she touched you. I hated the way you let her. I hated the way you walked past me this morning like I meant nothing to you."

The words hung in the air between them, raw and undeniable.

"Nyra." His voice was different now. Softer. "You don’t mean nothing to me."

"Then why—"

"Because I don’t know what to do with what I feel. I’ve never—" He struggled, the words coming hard. "I’ve never felt this before. For anyone. And it terrifies me."

She stared at him. The Ice Wolf. The Sword Sovereign. The man who had never shown weakness to anyone. And he was standing in front of her, telling her he was afraid.

"Soren—"

A howl split the night.

It was faint. Distant. But unmistakable.

Soren’s head snapped up. His hand dropped from her chin and went to his sword. The vulnerability in his eyes vanished, replaced by the cold, focused intensity of a predator.

"Wake the others," he said, his voice iron. "An attack is coming."

Nyra didn’t hesitate. She ran to the camp, shaking Orion awake, kicking Draven’s boot, calling out to Silas and Elias. Valeria was already on her feet, crossbow in hand, her eyes scanning the treeline.

The howl came again. Closer this time.

And another answered it.

And another.

Soren drew his sword. The blade gleamed in the firelight.

"Formation," he ordered. "Now."

The forest exploded into chaos.