Page 193 of A Warrior's Fate

Offering him a deadpan look, she placed a hand on his chest and ushered him back. “Down, boy.”

As he stumbled a step, she seamlessly breezed by him to grab her jacket, the fabric weighed down by the diadem’s jewel and the marker still in its pockets. She could feel his eyes boring into her back as she walked to the door, maybe exaggerating the sway of her hips, and his laugh echoed around them as they took down the steps. Down and around.

Back into reality.

Isla had never seen such focus on Kai’s face. Now, down in his office, leaning against his desk, she watched him as he rested his hands on the wood surface opposite her. He shifted his gaze between the last piece of the diadem, the newly acquired marker, and what she’d written of the fifth symbol.

He’d been silent for a while. Almost too long.

With each pace of their descent from the study, any tension that had left Isla’s body had begun coiling again, and she’d decided that she would let the unease stay. Let it drive her, fuel her, along with her new mantra that everything would be okay.

For a moment, she wondered if there was a way for her to somehow use the bond to read Kai’s mind. Break beyond the wall of stone protecting his thoughts, the way it felt like he’d crumbled hers when their link started working. Though that had been just to talk. Sneaking into his head and taking something that didn’t belong to her would be a step too far, and frankly, not possible.

As his quietness persisted, she let her eyes roam the room again before gazing out the window. Spacious and more ornately decorated than she’d been expecting, Kai’s office also had a view of the city. Not quite as wondrous as the one captured from the overlook, but enough. From here, the crystals of Mavec’s squares and the dancing lights of the boats on the river could be seen and appreciated.

She’d noted earlier how the walls were barren but held signs—specific demarcations on the blend of stone, dark wood paneling, and wallpaper—that at one point, there had been pictures. Some artworks.

If this space had always been for the Alpha of Deimos, then that meant this had previously belonged to Kai’s father. Bore the images he had chosen. Been arranged in the way he had wanted. Certain scratches on the floor told her the furniture had been shifted, maybe an inch or two, but the bare walls never recovered.

She wouldn’t mention it, not now, but something about the room felt empty. Cold in a way the hearth at the far side of the space couldn’t warm.

The desk creaked, and Isla whipped her head back to Kai as he wordlessly pressed up from the wood and turned to approach the antiquated map splayed out on the wall. It displayed Deimos’s four territories and what was once Phobos before it had been destroyed. Though the more accurate portrayal of today’s world sat on his desk, this one seemed more relevant.

Unlike Deimos’s four regions, Phobos, in its glory, boasted six. Here, Isla saw the entire expanse of land, the former pack stretching all the way out to the Great Ocean that separated their continent from the mainland of the witches and other creatures beyond. Deimos and Phobos together were nearly as large as Ganymede.

“We have rogues on our southeastern border,” Kai finally began, his voice even-toned yet edged with irritation. “Charon further beyond that, the Imperial Alpha breathing down our necks from the north, now, the Wall in the west.” He let out a heavy sigh and ran both hands through his hair. It was so much. Spinning back, he said, “We need to work backwards.”

Isla adjusted herself on the desk. “Backwards.”

Kai nodded. “And we need to move carefully. If everything’s connected like you think it’s been, when we pull one piece on the board, another moves with it, and we’re back to square one, trying to figure out what the hell’s going on.”

He was right in that regard, and she was sick of always playing catch-up.

“Where do you want to start?” she asked.

Another breath and another glance at the map. “Other wolves, rogues or not, we can handle. Io, we can manage, but bak getting beyond the Wall is the biggest issue we have. We don’t have those defenses. And I highly doubt, given the current climate, Alpha Cassius would be keen on sending me more warriors.” He mumbled the next words, “If I could even trust them here.”

Isla winced, though she got the point. She folded her arms. “He doesn’t have a choice about sending warriors if they’re needed. Regardless of who was to dispatch us, if we know there’s a threat, anywhere on the continent, we’d want to help. I mean, I came here even though I knew the consequences.”

Kai rose a brow.

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean."

The smallest upturn of his mouth told her he did.

Not long after, he began pacing the floor, eyes flickering from his shoes along the ornate carpet, to the dark metal chandelier hanging from the ceiling to the map. Eventually, he cursed. “I knew we should’ve been looking into the Wall earlier. Maybe we would’ve caught those tunnels. We need to figure out how far they stretch, and where they go. If Callan found them. Why he was looking.” A muscle feathered in his cheek. “I never thought I’d be so grateful to a witch.”

The ward on the door. Keeping the tunnel sealed and the bak in. Isla knew they’d need to figure out how that one beast got up to the guard base—hell, they needed to know when and who cast that ward—but it had to be a step at a time. Maneuvered carefully.

Though she still found herself unsure of Kai’s sentiment of gratitude. “You don’t think a witch could be a problem?”

“Not as much as a bak.”

“How would a witch even get over here? Ameera said that house wasn’t too old, and the witches haven’t been invited here for an extensive amount of time. They’d never make it past Io’s border from beyond the mountains. I mean, we were always guarded, but the prison’s right there too. No one gets near it, even from our end. Every pack border is protected, including the coastlines. They wouldn’t get in without us noticing.”

“All coastlines but one,” Kai corrected lowly.

It took a moment for Isla to realize which he was talking about—but it made little sense.

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