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Taking a deep breath, I told her a modified version of the events of the past few months, carefully omitting certain parts.It wasn’t that I didn’t trust her—I did (despite our current “ex” best-friend status)—but it was too dangerous to mention the Zavien stone to anyone else. I already regretted telling Sal Sahteene. So, I kept silent about it, telling Averee that the bear king sent me to spy on Lord Thrailkull when he’d heard rumors of the Rathalans building an army inside Malengard. She seemed to believe me.
“What does yourbetrothedthink of you doing this?” she asked when I was finished, her tone taunting.
Of course, she would bring up Lila, even though I’d intentionally left her out of the story. Averee had made it abundantly clear she didn’t like Lila. At least, that’s what I gathered from our last argument before she stopped speaking to me.
Averee and I had met during initiation day of Takkan training.
Every Kovak participates in primary training where we learn to hone our magic. It’s against our ways to rely on our bears to protect us. In primary training, we’re taught how to fight alongside them. We learn to move, track, and react like them. Then those skilled enough—in strength and magic—advance to Takkan training.
None of the other students in Averee’s primary group were a match for her. Her movements were as quick and sharp as her tongue. Her staff whirled like a lightning bolt in her nimble hands. Her tracking skills rivaled those of a hungry wolf. She’d graduated at the top of her primary group like it was child’s play.
Then she met me.
When the instructor paired us together on the first day of Takkan training, I’d pinned her on her back and wouldn’t let her up, causing a few giggles from her former opponents. Then I’d tracked down the bear cub our instructor had set loose in the forest before she’d even discovered its footprints.
Afterward, Averee had stormed off in a cloud of curses, but the next day, she’d asked if we could be training partners. The months following, we became inseparable. For years, we trained together, laughed together, and got into trouble together. She was like the sister I never had. We were always watching each other’s backs during every drill and every fight. Until my mother died.
I was a mess then. I refused to go to trainings after the funeral. I ignored my friends’ invitations to the taverns. I never opened my bedroom door, no matter how many times Averee came over to check on me.
When my father threatened to break down the door if I didn’t attend that night’s dinner with his “important” guests, Kah and I sneaked out to hide in the library because the raging storm outside prevented me from seeking solace in the training ring or the mountain forest like I normally did. Plus, I knew my father would never think to look for me in a room full of books. I was always more of a fighter than a reader.
I was so angry—at my father for trying to control me, at my mother for leaving me, at myself for not being able to cope—that I shoved one of the bookcases with so much force, it toppled over. Books flew everywhere.
A surprised cry on the other side startled me. I’d been so consumed with my dark mood that I hadn’t noticed anyone else in the library. I shuffled through the scattered books to find a girl on the floor, looking shocked.
“Are you hurt?” I asked.
“I don’t think so,” she answered, her voice a bit unsteady. Her bear appeared beside her, growling protectively. The bear’s snowy-white fur was the same color as the girl’s disheveled blonde hair that was coming loose from its long braid. While my tattoos were dark, hers were pale, wrapping around her exposed arms like delicate sleeves. She stood up to dust off her gown,appearing unharmed. Our eyes met, and she squinted like she might recognize me. I hoped she didn’t.
“Do you normally shove bookcases onto strangers?” she said. I couldn’t tell if her tone was serious or mocking.
“I—” There was nothing I could think to say, so I turned to leave.
When I was halfway to the door, she called after me. “You know, my mother died last year. And I did worse things than destroying the library.” This time, her voice was soft, compassionate.
I paused my retreat. I didn’t need to ask how she knew about my mother. Since the funeral, everyone in Askeland seemed to want to offer me their condolences.
The truth was, I hadn’t spoken to anyone about my mother since her death, but the dam I’d built to hold all my feelings inside suddenly broke against the inquiry of this stranger, and I found myself pouring forth everything I’d left unsaid for weeks.
Lila listened. She didn’t offer pity or trivial advice. She didn’t try to make me feel better. She just listened. And it turned out, that was exactly what I needed.
After that, Lila and I began meeting in the library several times a week, just to talk. She was visiting from Kadden, the kingdom of the eastern bear tribe, which was why I’d never seen her before or heard about her mother. Slowly, our shared grief began to lessen. I found myself smiling at random times during the day at the thought of seeing her. Lila wasn’t like any other of the Kovak girls I knew. She was beautiful and graceful, more inclined to use her words instead of her fists. She could quote half the books in the library and could even read a little of the literature written in the old tongue. I was captivated by her. She’d somehow reignited the spark inside my chest that I thought had gone out.
By the time I returned to Takkan training a month later, I had already proposed to her. My father was delighted by the news. Averee was not.
“Are you nuts? You just met her!” Averee cried, thrusting her staff at my chest in the ring.
I blocked the blow, dancing backward before raising my staff for a counterattack. “What’s your problem? You don’t even know her.” I felt blindsided. I thought Averee would be happy for me. Weren’t best friends supposed to be supportive of each other? To celebrate each other’s triumphs?
Our staffs cracked loudly as they collided. “No,youdon’t even know her, Jeddak. You’re being rash. I know your mother just died, but?—”
“Butwhat? I can’t be happy ever again?” She was wrong. Ididknow Lila. Enough to want to spend the rest of my life with her. She was patient. Understanding. Sweet. Beautiful. No,gorgeous. She had the same passion for poetry and reading that I had for Takkan training. She’d helped me navigate my grief when I felt all alone. When I was with her, I felt—whole. That was enough for me.
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Then whatdidyou mean?” I brought my staff down hard onto her shoulder.
She recoiled from the hit, stumbling back a few steps. When she recovered, her eyes narrowed. “This girl’susingyou, Jeddak. And you know why. You’re an idiot if you can’t see that.”
