Chapter 16 – Edges of Jealousy
1051 Words
The tent emptied slowly, like water draining from a basin.
Stormclaw peeled away in clumps—some wolves lingering to stare a moment longer, some pointedly not looking at me at all. A few brushed my shoulder in passing, wordless and warm. Taryn’s hand squeezed my good arm once, quick and hard, before she ducked out.
Then it was just me and Rylan and the low burn of the brazier.
My legs decided that was their cue to stop pretending.
I sat down on the nearest crate. It creaked in protest.
“Well,” I said. “That could’ve gone worse.”
Rylan arched a brow. “You were hoping for applause?”
“Polite golf‑clap at least,” I muttered. “Maybe a fruit basket.”
A corner of his mouth twitched. The tension around his eyes hadn’t gone anywhere, though.
“You did well,” he said. “They needed to hear it from you.”
“Rowan said the same thing,” I said. “I’m starting to suspect a conspiracy.”
“Old wolves and their schemes,” he said dryly. “Shocking.”
The bonds inside me had settled to a low, strange buzz. Stormclaw’s thread was hot and close, humming with new weight now that the word Luna had been spoken aloud. Moonfang’s was quieter, but not dim—just… waiting.
Rylan watched me a moment longer.
“You’re thinking of him,” he said.
It wasn’t accusation. That almost made it worse.
“I’m thinking of a lot of things,” I said. “But yes. Caelan is on the list.”
His jaw flexed. “At the top?”
“Depends on the hour,” I said honestly. “Right this second, it’s a three‑way tie between ‘water,’ ‘bed,’ and ‘no more speeches for a week.’”
That dragged a real, if small, smile out of him.
He came closer, bracing a hand on the table beside my shoulder.
“I won’t pretend I like sharing you,” he said. “I am not that noble. Or that stupid.”
“Good,” I said. “Nobility is overrated.”
“But.” He searched my face. “I am not going to punish you for bonds you didn’t choose. Or pretend I don’t know you care what happens to him. To them.”
The honesty scraped at something soft in my chest.
“Caelan said almost the same thing,” I admitted. “Minus the part where he wanted to drag me into the deepest part of his forest and tell the Moon to fight him for me.”
Rylan snorted. “Of course he did. He’s all teeth and roots.”
“And you’re what?” I asked. “Frost and cliffs?”
“Roads and storms,” he said, without hesitation.
The answer startled a laugh out of me. “Poetic.”
“Accurate,” he said.
He went quiet for a moment.
“When you stood there,” he said finally, “in front of Stormclaw, saying you were also Moonfang’s… did you think I’d snap?”
“I thought someone might,” I said. “You were in the top five contenders.”
“And now?” he asked.
“Now I think you’re… trying.” I met his gaze. “And that scares you more than it scares me.”
He didn’t argue.
Instead, he reached out, slow, fingers hovering near the edge of my jaw. “May I?” he asked.
The question hit me harder than a grab would have. I nodded.
His thumb brushed the skin just under my crescent mark, where Moonfang’s bond glowed faintly.
“It burns,” he murmured. “Even from here.”
“Yours does too,” I said quietly. “All the time.”
His hand dropped.
“I don’t want to be the one who makes you choose,” he said. “Not like that. Not with knives at your throat and packs at your back.”
“Then don’t,” I said. “Help me make sure no one can.”
He huffed. “Simple.”
“Nothing about this is simple,” I said. “But it’s that or we let some asshole with silver wire write the ending for us.”
He sobered. “About that. My scouts found another nest of snares along the creek. Old pattern. Fresh metal.”
“Ashridge,” I said, the word bitter on my tongue.
He nodded. “We burned them. But whoever set them knew what they were doing. And they knew you’d find them.”
“Me?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “They bait roads with humans. They bait borders with wolves. And they bait you with both.”
The thought made my skin crawl. “Cute.”
“We’ll hunt them,” Rylan said. “Together or separate, I don’t care. But we’re not waiting for the next body.”
“Moonfang’s saying the same thing,” I said. “They just use more metaphor.”
“Of course they do.”
Silence stretched, not entirely comfortable, but no longer knife‑edged.
“Go,” he said at last, stepping back. “If you don’t check in with Moonfang soon, Caelan will start gnawing on trees.”
“Jealous?” I couldn’t help it.
“Yes,” he said, with a flat honesty that stole any sting. “Spectacularly. But I meant what I told them. You’re ours whether you’re in this camp or his. I won’t chain you here to make myself feel bigger.”
The bond between us pulsed, thick with affection and something fiercer.
I stood, legs protesting, and slung my pack over my shoulder.
“I’ll be back,” I said.
“I know,” he answered. Then, softer: “And Kaela? When you tell Moonfang what you told us… remember you have more than one pack at your back now.”
I nodded, throat tight, and stepped out into the cold.
Two camps waited for me.
For the first time, though, one of them had heard the whole ugly truth and hadn’t tried to tear me—or my bonds—apart.
It wasn’t peace. But it was a start.
- Writer
