Fated, She Flies

by Brea Viragh

  When he joined her, moving his body in time with hers in a way that had always been natural, Odessa focused on that joy.

  They danced until her lungs ached and she could no longer contain her laughter.

  Until the sun crested the lake.

  A wrench of pain took her by surprise, and she stumbled. No, not yet. Not yet! She tripped on the sand, legs carrying her back into the shallow waters. “It’s time.”

  Her eyes widened at a crack of lightning overhead, although the sky was clear.

  “Everything is going to be okay,” Calen called out to her.

  The strike zapped the surface of the lake, fire skittering along her skin until feathers burst forth in a wave of agony. Odessa cried out, her head wrenching back on her neck and her lips elongating painfully.

  And when the fog cleared and the pain faded, only the swan was left.

  EVERY STEP COST HIM. Calen swallowed, following the curving path away from the lake and back toward the manor house. The trail was easier now, leaves and twigs worn down from his constant back and forth, a trail between the love of his life and the answer to her curse. A long stretch of overgrown forest and mountains of problems.

  But he knew they would come out on the other side.

  Maybe not together, but it would be done.

  A tightness in his chest accompanied the thought. It warmed his heart, how she had chosen to give herself to him. More than he’d dreamed possible. Yet he could not delude himself about their future together. Odessa may hate what was expected of her, yet she would do what she had to do for her people. And her people needed the merger with the Robert’s pack. Taunway resources, Evertooth muscle.

  If they could keep from killing each other first.

  Calen eventually reached the manor house, the guards patrolling the borders bringing him directly down to the kitchen. There would be no interrogation for him. No wonderings on where he had been or why he’d been gone so long.

  No questions asked.

  He wondered, for the first time, if his nature was a gift. A blessing allowing him to pass unnoticed when others would have been stopped and scrutinized.

  The guard, unfamiliar and probably hired out, shoved Calen down the steps and let him stagger the last few. He lost his footing and nearly tumbled headfirst into the long marble workstation.

  All eyes turned to him, and for a moment, the hustle around him paused. A held breath.

  “Get to work.” The order came swift before the guard turned around.

  Calen hissed in a breath, rubbing his elbow where he’d knocked it. “Welcome home,” he muttered under his breath. “No time for a shower? A little nap?”

  “Things have had to go on without you, and Alex is more than a little pissed you decided to take off without notice.” The dishwasher used a free hand sprinkled with suds to wipe the hair out of her eyes. “You can’t just keep running off whenever you feel like it.”

  “Besides, there’s extra mouths to feed,” someone else snapped.

  Calen growled, a sound unlike one he’d made in front of them before. And that, more surprising than the intrusion of the guard, had conversation halting and eyes falling on him.

  He ignored them, his chest heaving as he moved to his normal spot in the back of the room. The bakery prep area.

  “Looks like someone needs a little time-out,” the dishwasher crooned. “You have a rough couple of days?”

  “Nothing rougher than coming back here,” Calen breathed in retort.

  Bozart breezed into the room with empty trays in his arms. One look at Calen and the prep station had the older man’s eyes rolling back into his head. “Heaven forbid,” he began, his voice a deep rumble. “I never know when I’m going to come out and see you actually doing your job or if you’re going to be gone for good.”

  “Who is to say?” Calen joked, forcing a smile to split his lips. “And I always considered myself a homebody, too.”

  “Well get your homebody ass to whip up a batch of tarts. Go, start a list.” Bozart set down the trays and gestured for Calen to grab a pencil. “A list, now.”

  “Ooh, somebody’s in trouble,” the dishwasher said in a singsong voice.

  Calen ignored her. It wouldn’t be the first time the kitchen staff teased him to tears, although those days were long in the past.

  “We need two batches of tarts, cannoli’s, eclairs, two apple pies, and a batch of pumpkin turnovers.”

  “And why would we need all these sweets?”

  “A tournament.”

  Calen jerked at Bozart’s announcement, the roundness of the head chef’s stomach pushing further into the kitchen.

  He adjusted his elbows on the counter and winced at the soreness in his legs. Now that he had the path memorized, it had taken less than a full day to reach the lake. But his extracurricular activities had left him exhausted but sated, though his body protested regardless.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, then forced his eyes wide in an attempt to wake up.

  “I’m talking about the tournament that Alex is throwing in two days.” Bozart rubbed his hands together. “Something to keep the rest of us distracted from the dirty business with the missing princess.”

  “While you pulled your disappearing act,” the dishwasher continued, “the rest of us have been trying to keep a riot from starting. People are starting to flip out.”

  Bozart nodded his agreement. “The other day, two wolves went at each other, and one of them nearly lost a leg. It took the healers hours to stop the blood.”

  “And that’s not the worst of it,” the dishwasher continued where Bozart left off. “Some have taken it upon themselves to avenge the slain girls. The dungeons are full.”

  “We have dungeons?” another worker asked.

  Okay, a tournament might not be the worst idea in the world. And if it kept the Evertooths and the Taunways from tearing at each other, then by all means.

  “Do we know what they’ve chosen to do?” Cleaver asked, an omega wolf with a scar down his right side and always-smiling eyes. “Archery? Polo? Some kind of other inane sport to pit us against each other?”

  The rest of the kitchen staff were there because they chose to be, but that didn’t mean they lacked the physical strength. Calen, on the contrary, was in the kitchen because he could not compete at their level.

  He covered his mouth when a wide yawn escaped. “Pass for me. There’s too much to be done down here.” He said nothing of the fact that, no matter what the sport, he was never invited. Not officially, as the others would be.

  Bozart shrugged. “I’m not sure. I know we are to begin preparation on a three-course picnic. Darrow and the Evertooth alpha have given me a list of specifics to be ready in two days’ time.”

  “More work for us,” Cleaver muttered under his breath, and Calen was inclined to agree.

  They each received a copy of the menu Alex requested, nothing outlandish or extravagant but enough that, while Bozart took two of his cronies to the market, the rest of them fell into a line of preparation.

  Calen worked steadily behind them for hours, his list of desserts shrinking with each trip to the oven and his exhaustion growing. The work helped quiet his mind and still the overactive beats of his heart whenever his thoughts returned to Odessa.

  She’d let him love her. More, she’d welcomed him into her, as a part of her, and hadn’t been disgusted by what she saw when she looked at him. It had been the first time in his life that Calen honestly felt himself good enough for her. Good enough for himself, because until that point...no, he didn’t want to dwell. He’d never seen himself as a person worth saving. Worth loving.

  Until Odessa looked at him.

  A soft breeze from the open window tickled his hair, and Calen brushed it behind his ear. When the second breeze came right behind the first, tugging a bit insistently, he knew it wasn’t natural.

  Magic.

  A glance toward the hedges revealed Van’s shadow. Definitely Van, from t
he shape of his head.

  It took little effort for Calen to slip away unnoticed, his footsteps echoing as he made his way down the hall.

  “What are you doing?” he asked in the hush of evening, knowing Van could hear him.

  Van didn’t bother asking how Calen felt. So he said, “What do you think about the tournament?”

  “I’m still not sure what we’ve chosen to do, but I’m behind it if it can keep the natives from being restless,” he answered. “I heard about the wolf who nearly lost a leg.”

  Van set him with a smile. “It’s a bird hunt.”

  Calen stiffened. “Are you serious? I think it’s a damn good thing that Odessa is nowhere near us. I’m not sure what the alphas are thinking about, but it’s a terrible idea.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t their idea. It was mine.” Van stared at him, expectant.

  Maybe it was a shred of courage he didn’t know he had. Or a recklessness he’d never before explored. But Calen reached out and grabbed Van by the shoulders for a shake. Then indulged in one more. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” The words became choked until it took effort to release the rest of the sentence. “What are you thinking?”

  Rage twisted his features. Van—the heir to the Evertooth pack—who had been working behind the scenes to ensure Odessa’s ascension to the throne, now planning an attack?

  Van reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt when Calen whirled to leave. “After all this time, I’m going to need you to have a little faith.”

  “I’ve seen enough of what trusting you does.” He thought of Ghast. “I’m not really impressed, to be honest.”

  “I have a plan,” Van drawled, his hand tightened on the fabric. “I wanted to make sure that you knew.”

  “What kind of plan includes getting the pack involved with shooting game? It would be different if someone we mutually care about weren’t trapped as a you know what,” Calen spat out.

  Van shrugged. “I think I’ve spent enough time trying to convince you of my sincerity.” His grin turned lupine. “This is just the next step to breaking the you know what and freeing you know who. Now get back into the kitchen, Siegfried. You’ve been gone for way too long. Certain people are starting to get suspicious of your absences.”

  Calen stepped away from Van and his blood ran cold. It would do no good acting out on the slight intuition urging him to break into a fighting stance. Van had sensed his movement, nonetheless, cocking his head.

  But nothing happened. No hint of movement outside in the evening-colored wind.

  “Did something happen while I was away?” Calen asked.

  Van shrugged again. “I wouldn’t necessarily say that.” He dropped his chin to study his nails. “I followed a lead that turned out to be nothing important. I’m still working on a new avenue.”

  “With this ridiculous idea of yours.”

  “Yes, because it will be a good distraction. Maybe I’m the one who should be asking you about where you’ve been.” Van’s nostrils widened. “And why you smell different.”

  Something inside him clicked, and the river of anger that had been seething in his blood simply stopped. “Odessa and I had some urgent issues to discuss. It’s nothing.”

  He reached along the bond for her mind, for the connection between them, and found it simmering still. A little strange, but sure. There she was sending encouragement his way.

  Nothing to worry about.

  The whisper of sound soothed his insides.

  There was a flash of too-white teeth and Van stepped away at last. “Fine. I guess it’s all right for the two of us to keep our secrets. As long as we are both still working toward the same end. Trust me when I tell you, this tournament is the right thing to do. It will afford us certain liberties we haven’t had until now.”

  Van held out his hand and Calen reached for it to shake. He had no choice but to go along with this plan, because he had to face the truth of the matter, he didn’t have a single better one to offer up.

  Still, the thought of having the rest of his pack focused on a bird hunt...

  A shudder moved along his spine. Trying to focus on his surroundings, on his duties, on the tasks ahead of them, was his sole option. At least he had practice at it, what he’d been doing for years, just focusing on making it through the hour, the week, the year ahead.

  “I trust you,” he said slowly, forcing his mouth to say the words, feeling a modicum of peace when Van dropped the smile.

  His face looked better without it. Or perhaps Calen had just gotten used to it the other way.

  “Trust me,” Van repeated. “I know what I’m doing. People need hope just as much as they need meat and water and a roof over their head. They wouldn’t have been able to endure another week without something. Let them have this fun.”

  Calen inclined his head and the two of them broke apart, the heat from their handshake still searing his palm as he made his way back to the kitchen. His fingers curled but there was no room for him to argue. Van had successfully outmaneuvered him.

  When he turned over his shoulder, his gaze was hard.

  Chapter 21

  Odessa took a long, shuddering inhalation and thought about her favorite foods and how she would likely sit down at a table and gorge once the spell was broken.

  This line of thought led invariably to the lemon tarts she was so fond of. Which, in turn—

  Yes, Calen.

  He’d been gone for a day and already she missed him. His company and his warmth.

  She glanced toward the way he had gone, the opposite direction from the ruined manor house. If she were to bolt, she knew, she wouldn’t make it a mile before the symptoms began and she collapsed. She might be able to push against those symptoms and make it further yet, if she didn’t encounter anything to stop her before then.

  She dug her heels into the sand and let out a sharp hiss.

  Trapped. Her knees weak and her stomach empty.

  Only a complete idiot would try and escape this prison with no food and little strength.

  You’re thinking about something, Missy. I can tell. Desmond floated closer to her and waddled out of the water with a flap of his wings.

  Odessa couldn’t wipe the emotions from her face even if she tried. “You just know everything, don’t you?”

  The goose craned its neck in the opposite direction, beak snapping. I might have overheard a few things last night that I’d rather forget. Things that make me want to peck out my own eyes and save them for a midnight snack.

  She couldn’t help but laugh.

  “I knew I could keep nothing from your prying ears.”

  No, don’t get me wrong, I’m absolutely thrilled that you’ve found your mate. It makes me miss mine. But you think the two of you could try and keep it down for the people who have been trapped here without sex for half a decade? I’d sure appreciate it.

  Her mate. Yes, Odessa found she enjoyed the sound of it, the rightness of it. Like an internal sun warming her.

  “With luck, I won’t be here much longer. And neither will you. Calen is on to something big. I can feel it.” Odessa pressed a hand to her stomach. “We’ll be away and free by the end of the week.”

  Don’t you think we’ve tried to find a way out of this place? Whatever it is your boyfriend thinks he’s found, trust me. The mage is already ahead.

  “Then I guess it’s time for me to do something.” She rose, pushing her hair over her shoulder.

  Uh-oh. I know that look. Jean joined them with a quick honk to announce her arrival. You’ve got a bad idea in your head.

  Odessa leaned back and stared at the horizon, knowing, feeling, the exact area where the light would begin to burst through the blackness at the arrival of dawn.

  I am the wolf, she reminded herself. Wolves did not just sit on their haunches and wait for someone to save them. As she’d been doing. Wolves made their own destiny, shaped their own fate. And it was high time she stopped feeling sorry for herself, stopped fearing
repercussions from the mage, and started doing what she had to do.

  “Yes, I have an idea,” she murmured.

  “An idea, eh?”

  The mage crossed the sand, and a wave of his hand brought her into the air.

  Oh, shit. Shit!

  Claws poked through her mental gates as she looked down at him in unabashed fear. Odessa didn’t dare move. Not when the mage took her in, his lips thinning, brows drawing together. Not when the muscle of his cheek twitched, and he opened his mouth to reveal fangs. Fangs ready to tear out her throat there in the waning moonlight.

  “Why don’t you tell me about this idea of yours, Princess?” he urged. He was going to kill her. Kill her and all the rest of them right there. She saw the desire in his face. “Were you thinking of leaving me already?”

  “Please,” she breathed. “Don’t do anything to the others. Whatever you want with me, my father—”

  “Your father. Ha!” The man lifted his stare to meet hers, his laughter grating the last of her nerves. “He’s not coming to save you. Is that what you think?”

  A snap of fingers had the magic keeping her aloft fading, and Odessa dropped hard enough to her knees to hear a bone crack. She staggered back a step until the cool water lapped at her ankles, sucking in a breath.

  And the mage wasn’t there. The image of him rippled and faded just as a crack of thunder sounded overhead. The stench of magic burned her nostrils. She prepared for the change—

  As a hand wrapped around her neck and dragged her from the water.

  “Perhaps you need another night to yourself. Perhaps I should send you somewhere that no one can find you, where your friends can’t help you. How else are you going to learn your lesson?”

  Terror gutted her. What kind of effort would it take to break free from this man? To face him and kill him and save herself in the process? How deep would she have to dig inside of herself—to whatever power of the wolf still lived there—to do it?

  “Let me go,” she managed to get out. Twisting her neck, she saw the crack of lightning, the first faint rays of sun through the leaves.