Page 84 of Revealing Fate

Felíne’s eyes flashed. The endearment that moments before would have suffused her with sentiment now incited her temper. “Don’t you ‘sweetheart’ me.”

“What shall I call you instead? Your Excellence? Princess? Prima?”

She rounded on him. “How about my name? Felíne. Feh-leen. Come on, you can do it. It’s not that hard.”

Kal ground his molars, dropping his hand, but didn’t speak. She wasn’t sure why the disappointment stung so acutely.

“I thought so,” she muttered, pushing past him. This time, he let her go.

Felíne stomped through the forest, pounding her residual fury into the ground beneath her boots. She had some generalized inkling of the direction she was headed, though she couldn’t be certain if she’d come anywhere close to finding Kal’s cabin. He followed her from a safe distance, a glowering shadow haunting her progression. Now and then, Felíne caught the flash of a silvery-black pelt weaving through the underbrush. Kal wasn’t the only one trailing her, it seemed.

After forty minutes of stumbling through the gorse, the shadows between the trees began to elongate, darkness beckoning. She still hadn’t found her way back to the house. She kept expecting to see the outline of the cabin tucked between its guarding branches at the heart of the clearing, but each turn only revealed another wall of wild wood and green. Felíne peeked over her shoulder. Kal was there, several paces back, an unyielding presence. Her anger had fled. Try as she might to hold onto her stubbornness, the longer she walked, the more pointless it seemed. Grudge-holding was not a skill she possessed. Curse the Goddess for gifting her a grace-filled heart.

Felíne’s injury ached, her wrist throbbed, and her stomach gave a disgruntled rumble. When was the last time she’d eaten?

“Okay,” she said, dragging to a halt. If she’d had a white flag handy, she would have waved it. “I’ve had my fit. I’m sorry. Can you please take me home?”

Felíne turned and met two pairs of eyes. The wolf tilted its head, studying her, then glanced up at Kal, tongue lolling out of its toothy muzzle. Kal pivoted and jutted his chin in the opposite direction.

Felíne followed. So much for having an idea of which way to go.

By the time they reached the clearing and Felíne saw the edge of Kal’s cabin, she nearly cried tears of relief. She collapsed onto the porch steps.

“I’m dying,” she declared.

“No. Just dramatic.”

Felíne peeled herself off the porch and lugged her feet after him into the house. She sank onto the couch, wincing as she put weight on her forgotten wrist.

“That needs to be wrapped,” Kal said, squatting in front of her.

She let him assess the joint. “Add it to the list.”

He glanced up at her, no longer upset but still a little wary. “Make a fist.”

Felíne obliged, closing her fingers over her thumb.

“No. Like this.” Kal repositioned her hand. “Thumb on top. Wrist aligned. When you punch, use your body for power, not your arm. And you connect here.” He tapped her middle knuckle.

Felíne mimicked thrusting her new fist into his jaw. “Like this?”

He brushed her hand away. “Better to aim for something soft.”

She adjusted and went for his abdomen.

He smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Lower.”

She stilled. More teasing. Another shield? “I’m sorry that I lied to you,” she murmured.

Kal’s grin faded. He sighed and dropped her hand, fingers lingering over the skin of her wrist. “I understand why you did.”

Felíne dropped her gaze. “Even so. It doesn’t mean I enjoyed it. The name was false, but Kal…” She searched his face. “Everything else was real.”

Obsidian eyes connected with hers.

“I didn’t tell you who I was, but the rest? How I felt? That was always true.”

Kal didn’t respond for several long seconds, and Felíne wondered if she had said too much. “How did you feel?” he asked eventually.