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“Fuck, but it’s true,” I admitted. Lapping at those delicate little heels. I might even pop one of her toes into my mouth. And suck, long and hard. Would she let me do that much? Even if she hated me? For old time’s sake?
I hid it well, but my body was as tense and hard as stone without her. Every second of every day.
“War and sex. There’s no separating the two,” Gawain said, stretching his arms over his head. “When people think they’re going off to die, they want to... well.”
They certainly did. The ship sometimes seemed to be rocking from more than just the waves.
Some of the soldiers in the fleet were old hands. Odessa had sent as many of those as she believed she could safely spare. But the majority were raw recruits. And as we spent weeks crossing the Kastra, the old were teaching the new everything they would need to know once we landed on foreign soil.
From the western coast of Eskira, the army would disembark, switching from navy to infantry, and beginning a lengthy trek through harsh and mountainous terrain. Crossing the Ellyria Mountains through Cerunnos and skirting Rheged, they would eventually reach the border of Pendrath and enter Arthur Pendragon’s dominion.
Once we entered Pendrath, we had to be prepared to fight.
Of course, I planned to be far ahead of them by then.
It would take weeks, possibly even months, to make the crossing with thousands of soldiers through unpredictable terrain and weather. But if I went ahead on my own, well...
“You must wish you could simply stitch to her,” Gawain said quietly, watching me.
That was exactly what I wished.
Every moment of every day. And certainly every time I saw Crescent or Ulpheas.
“It’s an incredible distance. I know that. Crescent has told me of the dangers.” I cleared my throat. “I want to get to her in one piece, Gawain. I can’t take the risk of disintegrating halfway over Cerunnos. Or appearing on the wrong side of the continent.”
“Still, if we find a gate...”
I shook my head. Even that was dubious. “We’d have to be completely certain it led to where I needed it to. And when we make landfall on this side of the Ellyria Mountains? I doubt we’re likely to find one.”
The fae were unlikely to have built many gates so far from Valtain or on the rocky coast along the wall of mountains. There was a slim chance, certainly. But I doubted it.
Furthermore, Morgan may not have realized it, but she had taken an incredible risk when she had leaped into the arch in the palace temple. If the one on the other side had been damaged, or worse, destroyed, she might have ceased to exist.
Thank the gods I could sense that had not been the case. I knew beyond a doubt she had made it through.
As for Javer...
Well, I hoped for his sake that Morgan hadn’t simply killed the fool if he’d made it to the other side.
What the hell had made him think it would be a good idea to follow her? I supposed he had come to the temple to pray, and seeing Morgan go through the portal had caused something to simply... snap.
I often wished I’d been as quick as he had been. Many nights, I had lain awake, wishing I had just followed her through. Wondering why I had let her take a single step away from me.
But the truth was, some part of me had known to follow her then would have been wrong. She’d needed to go. I had let her.
That didn’t mean I had to stay put forever.
Gawain looked as if he were opening his mouth to try to say something comforting when the deck erupted into chaos.
A brown-furred tempest exploded from the lower decks and hurtled towards us.
I knew better than to take a step back. Instead, I folded my arms over my chest and waited.
Hawl's dark brow was furrowed in anger, and a low growl rumbled from their throat as they pushed their way past terrified-looking crew members who scurried out of the Ursidaur’s wake like startled mice.
The bear's choice of attire—a breastplate embossed with the insignia of the Umbral Throne and striped, silky, flowing fuschia pants that looked like something a pirate would have thrown out the nearest porthole—were more of a peace offering to the sailors than an actual gesture of modesty. Of course, no one would ever have dared to say a word against Hawl's absurd outfit.
Secretly, I was simply glad the stubborn Bearkin had conceded to wear any armor at all.
