Vengeance

Chapter 19

Relin shifts restlessly beneath me, his muscles bunching and relaxing as though he too senses the weight of the moment. I adjust my grip on the reins, trying to steady both him and myself while the others busy themselves with saddling their mounts. The air carries the metallic tang of magic, sharp and lingering, curling around us like unseen smoke. My own magic stirs in answer, rising unbidden from within, swirling around my skin in faint threads of light. It isn’t violent, nor is it calm—it is watchful, as though anticipating something I could not yet name.

And then it comes.

A whisper slithers through the back of my mind, soft as silk, yet cold enough to freeze me in place.

You feel it, don’t you? the voice purrs, each word drawn out like a secret meant only for me. Your steed… is different.

The sound is not sound at all—it is thought, sliding beneath my own, coiling in the shadows of my mind. My breath catches, and I stiffen, a small involuntary jump betraying me as Relin tossed his head, sensing my sudden unease. My fingers curl tighter around the reins as I try to steady myself, but the truth presses down harder than the saddle beneath me.

Something is different.

I feel it in the way Relin’s hooves strike the earth with quiet power, in the way his breath steams not with exertion, but with an otherworldly rhythm that matches the pulse of my own magic. It’s as though weare no longer merely horse and rider—but something bound, something shared.

And yet, behind that bond, behind the warmth of familiarity, there is a presence. Watching. Waiting. Testing me.

I reach forward, fingers brushing over the sleek curve of Relin’s neck. His hide is warm beneath my palm, alive with quiet strength. I let a trickle of my magic seep out, just a thread of light winding between us. But instead of dissipating into the air as it usually did, something stirs—something grabs on.

My breath hitches as a pulse echoes through me, sharp and startling. My eyes widen, and before I can pull back, a voice resonates in my mind. Smooth. Familiar. Ancient.

“Ah. Calista… at last. I can finally speak to you. Do you know how long I have wished for this? How many times have I tried, when we walked together beneath the stars? I could only listen, never answer. Until now.”

A startled laugh escapes me, nervous and breathless. I glance around, half-expecting the others to notice, though none of them seem aware of what is happening. “Relin?” I whisper under my breath, leaning closer to his ear as if the words might be heard aloud. “How is this even possible? I’m… talking to a horse.”

Relin flicks one ear back toward me and snorts, stamping the ground with something that felt more like indignation than instinct. His reply comes swift, laced with wounded pride.

“I am no mere horse.” The words ring with such certainty that I straighten in the saddle. “Do not insult me so, Calista. This shape is nothing more than a mask—a protection. I took this form because it was the safest way to remain by your side without drawing the eyes of those who hunt me. If they knew where I truly was, if they knew that I had bound myself to you… they would have slaughtered you without hesitation, along with anyone you hold dear.”

The air around us thickens, humming with the weight of his words. My magic responds, pulsing harder in my veins, as though it recognizes him—recognizes something long lost and finally found.

Relin turned his head, the movement slow and deliberate, until his great dark eye caught mine. The depth there startled me—it was not the simple, placid gaze of a beast but something far older, far sharper. His stare held me captive, unblinking, steady as stone.

“Our bond is dangerous, Calista,” his voice echoed through my mind, smooth as silk and heavy with warning. “Do not mistake it for anything less. Your magic and mine tether us, and that tether paints us as prey to powers far greater than you yet understand. But together…” His words deepened, reverberating with an almost thunderous certainty. “Together, we are far more than they realize.”

I sucked in a breath, leaning back in shock. My fingers tightened against his mane. “Our bond?” I repeated, my voice little more than a whisper, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile truth unraveling between us.

Relin dipped his great head in a solemn nod. “Yes. I have known you long before this fragile shell of flesh you wear now. Your soul—” his voice grew gentler, nearly reverent “—is the same as it has always been. And when it returned to this world, reborn in fire and starlight, I felt it at once. I left everything behind to find you.” His ear flicked back, almost sheepishly. “I could not risk drawing the king’s hunters down upon you. So I took this form, plain and unremarkable, that I might remain near even while hiding in plain sight, even while they searched with eyes sharp and cruel.”

My heart thundered against my ribs, the sheer weight of his confession threatening to unmoor me. I shifted uneasily on his back, mind racing with a thousand questions that jostled and tangled together until I could hardly breathe. Who—what—was Relin, truly? How did we know each other? And what did he mean about my soul being the same?

The world around us blurred, the din of saddles tightening and voices murmuring fading to a distant hum. When my eyes finally broke from Relin’s, they swept over the companions who had gathered around me—each of them bound to me in ways I barely understood. My gaze lingered at last on Zion. He stood tall and unyielding, his hand resting on the neck of a massive horse. At first glance, the creature seemed merely a horse, but then its head turned and the sharp glint of recognition cut through me like a blade.

Midnight hide, eyes dark as shadowed glass, and a presence that felt more than flesh.

Hela.

I turned toward Ewen, catching the glint in his eyes as he watched my stunned expression with a predator’s amusement. His lips curved into that infuriating half-smile of his, the one that always carried equal parts promise and threat.

“I could be your steed instead,” he drawled, his voice low and velvet, laced with wicked intent. His gaze flicked deliberately to the horse beneath me, then back to me, darkening like a storm. “Cast aside the beast you ride now, Calista. I would gladly bear your weight.” He leaned closer, his tone dipping into something sharper, hungrier. “In truth…” His smile widened, revealing the hunger that had slipped into his eyes. “I relish the thought of you riding me.”

Relin let out a sharp huff, his great body shifting beneath me, ears pinning back in visible displeasure. In the same breath, I caught the sound of Zion’s snort of laughter, low and amused, like he was enjoying every moment of my discomfort.

“Calista.” Relin’s voice slid into my mind, rich with barely restrained ire, his words carrying the weight of thunder. “Your star bond is vulgar—lewd beyond measure—and his insinuation that I am nothing more than a common beast stirs my fury. I am not a saddle to be mocked, nor a shadow to be dismissed.” His eyes rolled toward me, dark and searing with a pride that cut like steel. “Tell me, why have you chosen to bind yourself to that creature when you deserve reverence? Respect?”

I leaned forward in the saddle, curling a finger at Ewen in invitation. He was at my side in an instant, eagerness written in every line of his body, eyes bright with expectation. My lips curved into a slow, sultry smile as I bent closer, letting my voice fall to a whisper meant only for him.

"I don’t think you could handle me," I teased, letting the words drip like honey. "Relin has far more stamina. He can match any pace I set… can you?" My fingers slid into his hair, tightening just enough to draw a sharp intake of breath as I tugged him closer.

A low groan rumbled in his throat, his composure faltering. He shifted, hand darting down as if to adjust himself, though his hungry gaze never wavered from mine.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured, voice thick with desire. His hand caught my wrist, steady but trembling with restraint, and he lifted my fingers to his lips. The brush of his mouth was both reverent and desperate, a worship and a plea all at once.