Page 85 of Unrivaled
“He’s a kraken,” she breathed.
“I wouldn’t go that far.”Again, I checked her expression.Again, I found intense focus bordering on worry, not infatuation.This time, I couldn’t help but ask, “What makes you say that?”
“Oh—something Elnyta said.”She waved it away.“Isolde, am I a weak link, or an ambush predator?”
How we’d got from mythical sea creatures to hunting patterns… “You’re a class traitor.I suppose that makes you a stealth predator.But now you’re out in the open, so you can’t precisely ambush people again.”If the Captain was referring to her as such, well, I didn’t hate them for it.It beat whatever drivel Luca spouted.“A weak link would be another way to describe your antics, I suppose, if you’re the ruling class, holding those chains.”
She’d started to pace again.I put down the comb in my hands and propped my hip against the vanity.We’d be here awhile.
“You’re right,” she said.“Ambush predators are only good for one attack.Then they need to reset.But krakens just…are.”
The trail between her ideas suddenly made sense.And the ocean euphemisms.“There are other types of predators, you know,” I offered, dryly.
She froze.
My mind went to the steppe cats, working together.She’d be less familiar with them, but the thought of their grace and stealth filled me with nostalgia.Rarely glimpsed, but never forgotten.That was the steppe cats.
Instead, I said, “You wouldn’t have seen wolves hunting.Only a lone worg.But you understand the concept.”
She turned, her eyes huge.
“They might ambush their prey or work together to take it down.You know when a wolf pack is around.They don’t have any natural predators.But it’s about thepack.”
“Thomas and Kaelson,” she breathed.
I wouldn’t have gone that far, myself.“Ylva, alone, was at our mercy.”
“As a group…”
“As a group, working together, we were in danger from the Southerners,” I agreed.“Stealthorfrontal assault.”
“You did put an arrow through her chest.”
I waved it away.“The mage fixed it right up.”
A smile flickered over her mouth.“They’d better’ve.I hope I meet her again, one day.”She looked at her reflection in the looking glass.“A wolf.It seems more doable than a kraken.”
The imagery was a little…Barloc,though.“Wait until I tell you about the steppe cats.They’re matriarchal.”
Her eyes lit up.Obediently, she settled, passing me the comb.
It felt, for a little while, like the sun had travelled backward across the sky and candles burned upward.I set to work on her wet locks, remembering all the times I’d done this for her as a child.
She didn’tneedmy stories now.But she still wanted them.
In some ways, it meant even more to me than it had then.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
THOMAS
Warriors are first in, and last out.
—Matri’sion lesson
26thDay of Spring’s Son Moon,
Age of the Locways, Year 272
