Page 16 of Blood of Wolves

He scowled down into his tea and took another sip. It was, of course, prepared exactly how he liked it best.

The others were milling about behind the tent; he could hear their voices as low murmurs, and the clink and scrape of gear being packed. They would set out tonight, Erik had said, though it was usually wise to break camp in the morning, rather than midday. He didn’t want to waste the clear weather while they had it, and, barring disaster, they could reach a campsite near running water before full-dark.

He expected Mattias to go and help the others, because that was his way: he never rested if there was something useful he could do. He’d stopped devoting the lion’s share of his time to entertaining Náli with games and stories long ago. On a good day, Náli could pretend he didn’t resent that; today, cold down to his bones, still shaking from the amount of power he’d expending raising an army of bones, was not a good day. Náli buried his nose in his mug and refused to be bitter about anything.

But, to his surprise, Mattias glanced toward the tent, the activity behind it, and sat down on a low, improvised stool of rock in front of the fire, only an arm-span away. From an inner pocket of his cloak, he withdrew a whetstone, and then unsheathed the slender dagger on his thigh. He paused, a moment, before he tended to the blade, and glanced up at Náli from beneath furrowed brows. “The tea,” he prompted.

Náli scowled. “I’m bloody drinking it.” He took a pointed sip, without breaking eye contact.

Mattias’s lips twitched, and his brow smoothed; his nostrils flared, slightly, not-quite a snort, and then bent to his task, gaze falling away.

The absence of his attention stung in the way it always had.Look at me, Náli wanted to say – had always wanted to say.Don’t take your eyes off me. Because Náli had always been forced to look away, to attend to a lord’s duties, to greet visitors, to nod and smile at dignitaries. But Mattias’s sole purpose was to watch him. To attend to him. To protect him.

And, maybe, if Náli had been feeling stronger, he would have felt more charitable. Mattias was an exceptional captain, and he trusted him completely. He’d spent the last few years working hard to separate his emotions from the stark truth: that Náli wasn’t his friend…or anything else…and would someday most likely die for him. If Náli didn’t die first, withered away, and leave Mattias and his Guard brothers to live out their days in secluded mourning.

He hated it. Sometimes he hated every single thing about his life. And that was the sentiment that turned his tone venomous when he said, “I’m not returning to the Fault Lands. Not yet.”

Theschlick, schlick, shlickof the whetstone paused, and Mattias looked up again, expression carefully schooled this time. He took a breath, as though gathering strength for what he was about to say, and Náli frowned. “My lord, I’ve not seen you look this unwell in some time.”

Well. That hurt. Even if it was true.

Náli hitched himself up straighter on his log and said, “I’m fine.” The way the tea rippled in his mug betrayed him, and of course Mattias saw, because he saw everything.

He held Náli’s gaze, his own steady, serious, and said, “You look like you did the night of the horses.”

The words hit him like a gut punch. For one awful, caught-off-guard moment, he thought he might vomit up the tea he’d just drunk. They didn’t talk about the night of the horses. Not ever. He’d been eight, and not nearly as powerful…but powerful enough, and he…

No. No, he couldn’t go there. Couldn’t sift through the memories of that night. The only scrap of it he’d ever wanted to keep had been Mattias’s hands warm on his own that were cold, so cold; Mattias’s voice, rough with worry, with panic.“My lord, please, please, you have to stop.”The strong chest that he’d pressed his face into, and the thundering pulse beneath his cheek, so at odds with the calm fingers that curved around the back of his skull.“Shh, shh, let go, I have you, it’s all right.”

Náli set his mug on the ground, and took a very slow, deliberate breath. “I. Am. Fine.”

“My lord–”

“Yes, that’s right,” he snapped, and his shaking was all on the inside, now. He felt like his teeth were vibrating. “I’m the lord. Me. Not you.”

Mattias’s eyes widened in a rare show of surprise. He looked like he’d been slapped, and Náli took a sick delight in that. Good. If he was going to mentionthat night,then he could get taken down a peg or two.

“We’re going to Aeres. Ragnar will be joining up with the Sels to lay siege to the capital, and I won’t spend the fight for our nation soaking in the bath.”

For one terrible second, Mattias looked wounded. Looked like the sad boy with far too much responsibility thrust upon him who’d tended to Náli’s scraped knee, once upon a time. But then his expression hardened to one of resolve. “No, you’re right: I’m not the lord in this scenario.” He sounded unhappy, maybe even angry, but not bitter. He didn’twantto be a lord, Náli didn’t think. But maybe he wished he had a better lord to call his master – an ugly thought that left his stomach cramping. “But it’s my sworn duty to protect you, to keep you from all harm – and that includes harm that you cause yourself. You need to return – you need to go down into the well – and it would be better, be easier for you, if you went under your own power.”

That was true, but–

“I’ll get stronger on the ride back. I’m not going home yet.”

“But–” The rest of his protest was blessedly cut off by the arrival of the little drake.

With a hard clap of leathery wings, he landed ten paces off with enough force to nearly put the fire out, and then ran in his odd, loping gait the rest of the way, not slowing until he was close enough to shove his head into Náli’s lap.

“Brat,” Náli accused, sighing, but he reached automatically to scratch behind his horns, and the drake gave a happy purr, eyes sliding shut. He’d never been so glad to see the dumb beast.

When he lifted his head, he found Mattias sitting very upright, hands white-knuckled on the dagger and whetstone, staring at Náli with something like wonder.

“I…still can’t quite believe it.”

Náli snorted. “Oh, please. I commune with the dead, but it’s dragons you find unbelievable.”

“I…well…” Two faint spots of color appeared high along his cheekbones, and it wasn’t from the cold.

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