“Currently, there are vólkins stationed beyond the border,” I say, holding her closer. “They’re studying the human villages nearby—their layouts, patrol routines, and defenses. We must understand the world outside before we act.”
Noël nods. “The land is ruled by a tsar, with knyzya governing the five biggest villages under his command. Tárnov, Róstan, Yáarím, Gráyárk, and Velháven—the capital. Around every big village, there are smaller ones without a knyaz, which means that their defenses are less than the main five. I’ve only been to Tárnov, so most of what I know comes from my mother’s wisdom and my military training. But I’m beginning to piece together a clearer picture of what’s happening.”
Aeson leans forward, while Kaël stands with his arms crossed, his expression serious.
“I met the tsar once,” Noël continues, brushing a few shorter hairs back from her face. “When I saw his warriors, they wore uniforms embroidered with a blue rose.”
“What’s a uniform?” Kaël asks.
“Human warrior clothing,” I explain.
“So, this tsar knows of the blue rose,” Aeson says.
“It’s not a flower that grows naturally,” Zephyr adds.
Noël’s eyes harden, and I feel the tension in her muscles. “The tsar is who sets the rules for humans,” she says. “One of those rules restricts women to their villages.A woman who is born in Tárnov dies in Tárnov. It’s a saying everyone knows.”
A growl rumbles through my warriors, and I share their anger. That same rage burned in me the first time I heard those words.
“Your Majesty.” Naïa speaks up. “If women aren’t allowed to leave the villages, and this tsar knows of the blue rose...”
“It means he knows of the barrier,” Elder Aïna says, her voice grave. “And he knows of its power.”
Zephyr’s claws dig into the table, leaving visible marks on the stone. “If the tsar knows about the barrier, then he knows about us.”
The room falls into silence. Humans are taught to fear and hate vólkins. But they don’t know much about us. They don’tknow our abilities, they don’t know our way of life. They only know that we are mindless beasts who can’t even speak.
“We should strike now, before he has the chance to act first!” Kaël says, leaning forward.
Zephyr exhales, and I can see the effort it takes him to fight the urge to shake his head. His restraint is admirable.
“If the tsar—or his ancestors—has knowledge of magic so dark and powerful that it could trap us and the goddesses inside Ávera for so long,” I say, tracing my claws over my mate’s hair, “then we cannot underestimate him. We have been isolated for centuries, Kaël. We do not know what humans are capable of now. And they most likely outnumber us. Acting impulsively might lead us to ruin.”
The quiet is broken by my mate’s voice. “Then we will undergo trials to test our strength first.”
“Trials?” I ask.
“Yes. We will create challenges for all the males. Tests of physical endurance, strategic thinking, and teamwork.”
That is a very good idea.
“They can span two days,” she continues, “and they will give me the chance to get to know everyone better.”
The fire in her eyes burns brightly. That fire is something I will never tire of, even if it stirs my beast and makes controlling myself a daily battle. This will be a long week, and it seems the first challenge is taming myself and my cock.
We spend the rest of the day touring Ávera and greeting our people. My little dove is determined to fulfill her role as leader. Every time her legs tire, I lift her into my arms without question and carry her as we move forward together.
Her mother prepared her well. I can see it in her strength, how her body can bear such power. After the bonding ritual, when her spiritual awakening is complete, Noël will be sopowerful that all living beings on earth will kneel before her. I do not doubt it.
Tomorrow, we’ll leave Ávera and enter the forest. I’ll teach her the routes and lands she must know as a leader. If she can keep up, I’ll take her to the vólkin house the day after. But not yet. She needs time to heal mentally before she sees what I saw there.
“We should build shelters,” Noël says suddenly.
“Shelters? What for?” I watch her feet carefully as she steps over the uneven stones.
“Humans have developed strong weapons over the centuries you’ve been locked in Ávera,” she explains. “The basic weapon of any soldier is a sword. It’s sharp, deadly at close range, and lethal in the right hands.”
A hum rumbles in my chest. “So, like our claws?”
