Not All Heroes Are Guiltless

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

I wake up better than I have in the last month. The sun was breaking, and I could see details in the cave easier. I look for my wolf companion, my nadar, my destiny, my mate, and he’s not around.

I stretch and realize the fur that had protected and hid the supplies is under my head. I stand up and find some berries and nuts laid out with the supplies. I snack on them and reach into my pocket with a handkerchief and place them, tying them with a knot to keep them together.

I see the flask from last night and open to see it's nearly empty. I drink to wash down my bad breath and let the wine help with the muscle pain and tension. Rustles at the entry are barely audible when I see him walk into the cavern. He drops some clothes next to me. All linen which a peasant would wear. A male peasant. He did get a wrap cloth to keep my breasts tight against my body and a dark cloak.

He doesn’t say a word, but I know he sees the empty flask. Instead, he pulls a leather strap over his head and drops the canteen with the clothes. He walks out of the cavern, and I believe in respect of my privacy.

‘You can ask him to watch.’ A voice erupts clear as the day. I stand shaken at her promiscuous tone and shudder, ‘Alright, I get it. I’m made for him, though. The desire won’t subside.’

I’m not really sure how to respond to the clear voice, so I stand frozen in the cave just looking down at the clothes. All I can hear is the voice laughing at me, and I’m overwhelmingly embarrassed without any explanation.

My mate walks back into the cavern, looking around the walls and floor, “What’s wrong?”

I purse my lips into a thin line before I admit, “The voice in my head wants you to watch me dress.”

He looks at me and starts to laugh. The warmness in it is something that sets my heart pounding. I try to breathe to keep from being in distress and remember he’s my aunt’s son. I shake my head in repulsion of being attracted to my cousin. “I even detest myself for hearing her so immoral because you are my cousin.”

“We aren’t blood related. White and Black lines have always been friends and have shared the crown of Redland, but they have never been paired before.” He says matter-of-factly. “Tell your ‘voice’ to calm down. You have a lot of adjustments, and she shouldn’t over burden you.”

I nodded my head, but my voice cut me off and made the excuse of being excited to be free. He walks back out, and I quickly exchange my clothes for the cheaper and pricklier clothes. The cloak, though, is high quality with deep pockets. I place the berries and nuts into them. I keep my daggers. Grab the flint and steel and place it in another pocket. Throw the canteen around my neck. I then folded my military garb and pulled all the medals and patches off of them. I walked out to see him standing waiting for me.

He holds his hand out, and I place the badges and medals in his palm. A purple flame emits from his palm and the badges disappear, and the medals roll together in his hand to resemble a metal ball unable to be recognizable. He drops it to the forest floor and walks away as it smokes.

I stare at the smoldering metal. I’ve always been able to see other’s magic. He did something I had witnessed Andrew do countless times. There were only two differences. The color of the flame and the ability for me to see the pull of magic.

‘That’s because he uses an ancient style of magic. One you must be attuned to use. But I sense something more sinister within the energy. He was hiding it from us, knowing we were weaker than we should be. we are easily tricked’ the voice says, and I’m grateful for her input. I think I can learn more with her guidance. She seems wise.

‘Did you understand his explanation of white and black lines?’ I ask softly and try to follow him as he walks through the forest.

‘There were originally five clans of lupines. White, Black, Red, Grey, and Brown.’ The voice says softly.

‘Each of the colors of their coats. He’s a black and I’m a white like my mother.’ I say acknowledging, ‘How do you know so much?’

The voice whimpers softly, ‘When we were young, we were one. We knew our heritage and our mate.’

My steps halt and stare at the ground. Her whimpers are now tears rolling down my face. I hear my mate move closer to me. I quickly ask him “Does your wolf speak to you?”

“Is that the voice you hear? No. Lupines aren’t possessed by a spirit or anything. Our wolf is our own being.” He says softly.

“Then the voice is a sign. I am going crazy.” I say worriedly.

“You’re not going crazy. It may just be a side effect. When was the first time you heard this voice, you assume it is your wolf.” He says, crossing his arms.

I look at him a little, shocked he isn’t even worried. “When you fell off the cliff, I heard her scream out to you. Then I didn’t hear her voice, but she had control over me. You said you didn’t realize the bond was formed until I showed up in the dungeon. I thought you were the one who pulled me down there because I wasn’t acting normally. But when you left the cavern was the first time she ever spoke and she knows things like she knows you and she told me about the White and Blood lines. I asked her how she knew so much, and she said we were one.”

Tears fall from my eyes, and I feel like I’m a child caught doing something wrong. His arms snaked around mean and pulled me closer. “You aren’t losing your sanity. I have heard of wolves refusing the gift, and they just remain in a human weakened state, but the collar isn’t something I know anything about. If you were one, then I would see what I could do to help. Until then, you will have to find a way to tolerate her voice.”

‘Our mate wants to help.’ The voice says, and I sigh and think. If I had told anyone in the palace, they would have imprisoned or worse, killed me for having a voice in my head. ‘Our mate cares for us. No one in that palace loves us.’

‘Aunt Lana loves us.’ The voice rage fueled outburst flashes through my vision, tinting everything red for a moment at that statement, and I grip my hands into fists, unable to understand where my temper comes from.

“Delia, you might have to try to get along.” He whispers in my ear.