Chapter 27: Cormac.

The night was still and the sky was dark.

Only a sliver of moonlight cut in through the window, illuminating the wooden floors and the puddle of discarded clothes. The bed seemed so small with the Lycan laying in it, and the room smelled only of the wildness of his nature. The earth, the air – it seemed so ingrained in his skin that he brought it with him wherever he went.

We faced each other. My legs were curled up and in, tucked under the blankets as the coldness of night permeated the room. Still, the heat from his body was near stifling.

I had stopped crying a while ago, but it felt like my cheeks were hard with dried tears and a headache pounded inside my skull. The Lycan said little, but his gaze was heavy as it rested on me. It felt strange to have him here, in the only bedroom I truly called my own. He was too broad, too wild for this little room but I found that I didn't mind.

A finger trailed over my exposed shoulder. My dressing gown had slipped when I moved but it was knotted tight. I watched his face as he trailed the line of a silvered scar and as a knot formed between his brow. Those cyan eyes darkened and he worked his jaw, a low snarl trembling through him.

"Why did they do this to you?"

"Surely Luca told you?" I whispered. "You've seen some of these before."

His eyes flickered back to mine. "No. I've heard bits and pieces...but I didn't want to...I – I was making such a mess of everything and I didn't know what to do."

A ghost of a smile rose on my face as the Lycan's cheeks darkened. "Are you shy?"

"No!" He denied it too quickly. "I- I just never had the desire to pursue a woman before. I am rusty."

"Rusty," I mused. "I never would have guessed. I just thought it was natural for a Lycan to tear open the throat of the one they say they're bound to when the woman is unwilling."

His cheeks darkened further and his shame was palpable. "I am sorry, Lilia."

I wanted to snap at him, to dig that barb in further but I felt a mirror of that shame inside of me. I had kept my survival from him for months and while I did it because I wanted to live with my brothers, I could only imagine what it must have been like for him. I had felt a smudge of that longing, but I was not the one with the beast's soul, nor the one who had already invested himself.

But wasn't I getting the brunt of that now? That raw, ragged grief that plagued and rotted the soul – so mind-consuming that I wanted to do everything to forget.

"I should apologise too," I stared at the cleft in his chin. "I let you grieve for my death and I never considered the consequences. Now...now, I feel that same pain."

"You don't need to apologise," He stared up at the ceiling, a hand resting on his stomach. So unprotected. There wasn't even a weapon in reach. I could twist now and have a hand on a blade before he could even flinch. "I took your choice away from you. I never let you decide. I thought of myself and only myself. It seems everything I do is always...wrong."

"True," I conceded. "You are skilled at choosing what not to do."

Dark eyes flickered towards me, a half smile rising. "I've been doing it my entire life. Making bad choices, hurting people. Getting out of the castle to hunt down the 'Dragon Rider' was a chance for me to clear my head and right some wrongs."

"You live in the castle?" I propped up on my elbow, staring down at him. My hair fell like a curtain, brushing the pillow and he raised a hand to skim his fingers along it.

"I do." He cleared his throat. "I've lived there my entire life."

"That must have been interesting." I hummed. "Why leave that comfort to travel on the harsh roads, chasing down a rumour?"

"The King trusted me to do so." The Lycan stared at the ceiling unwaveringly. "And I – I hated the politics of the palace. I hated the expectations and the eyes always watching me, waiting for me to make another mistake. My beast was not as reserved as theirs and I could not handle him like the others could and people whispered about it. It is a great shame as a Lycan, not to be able to handle the animal inside of us. I had the best tutors, the best trainers that money could provide but he would not settle."

An unexpected pang of sympathy crashed through me, only for the thought of a younger Aden, unable to control himself and subject to the whispers of a malicious crowd. I had been there once – the unwanted step-daughter, the scarred survivor. Once beautiful, but no longer.

"Did getting away help it?" It had helped me – getting away from that little town that spat such hatred had freed my soul and gave me a new life that I would never trade for the old one again.

He nodded subtly. "For a while. Then we went to Randor."

"And you met me." I fell back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling too.

"Then I met you." His chest swelled with a sigh.

"And I make your....Lycan – uncontrollable again?" The softness in our voices surprised even me. There was no desire to cut the other, no need to snarl out. I could hear the discomfort in the Lycan's voice as he spoke and I understood that hesitation to speak about myself in such a way.

"Sometimes, but not always. The beast is ...calm and that's almost harder to get used to. Peace after years of ...war is strange."

"I can understand that." I whispered.

We fell silent then, staring at the ceiling and listening to the whisper of night outside. The world was still as if in that moment, it mourned for Beryl too.

Peace after years of war was strange. I could agree with that.

The Lycan fell asleep eventually and I lay there, strangely comforted by his presence. I was wrapped in warmth, enticed by the company of the sleeping male beside me. When the sun began to rise, my tired mind wanted to weep, wishing for sleep but I could not give it that.

A headache pounded inside of my skull. I had cried in front of him. I had been helpless.

I didn't cry. Especially not to a stranger.

But – was he really a stranger? We were both brutish and uncouth, untamed in ways that mirrored each other. My trauma unhinged me and made me reckless and his beast overrode his senses, making him what he was.

The Lycan did not wake as I shifted to get out of bed, nor when the floor creaked beneath my feet. He did not look soft and inviting as he slept. His brow was taunt, set in that familiar frown. He did not wake as he reached out in his sleep, a broad hand patting the warmth that I had left behind. Dark hair spilled out onto the pillow as he turned restlessly, quietening again.

"Aden." I whispered the name. There was such power in a name and I didn't know why I put such stock in his. I ghosted through the room as I dressed, listening to the heavy lull of the Lycan's breathing. He never woke and as I moved to the door, he had somehow managed to shift across the bed so that his bulk spanned across its entirety.

A smile touched my lips and for a moment, there was a lull in the fogginess of my brain. A moment of amusement. "Brute."

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The wind was dead and silent. The world seemed so still as if it was holding its breath with us, but I knew that everyone else was moving on, ignorant to the loss of a great soul.

He was bound in white cloth and only his face was left exposed. The funeral pyre had been made by our own hands and we laid jewels and ornaments around his body, two coins in his hands. A small piece of beryl stone was laid on each eye-lid and when cleaned of blood, he looked so peaceful in death.

"You were a good man, Beryl." The Sage croaked as he brushed a hand over Beryl's brow. "One of the best I have ever known."

I glanced back to Leishe, a mere dark outcrop in the distant. We had decided to preform the funeral out in the wild, away from the town that had taken his life. The sight of Leishe, once a safe haven in my mind, sickened me. How could he have died in our home? Murdered in his own home, injured and unable to fight for himself. Beryl wouldn't have wanted that – he would have wanted to die with a blade in his hand and with some dignity.

I barely heard it as the Sage spoke, his voice filled with soft reverence. For a group of hardened, world weary thieves and killers, we had let only a few people in our lives: each other.

Now one of us was gone.

The King's soldiers had not come at our request. Ailbrich had looked like he wanted to argue, staring at Sage so intently that I thought my leader would combust but he had curbed his tongue. This time wasn't for them. This was for us.

Beryl's skin was cold under my touch. Tears fringed my lashes, a sob catching in my throat as I kissed his forehead. "I don't know why you have to go brother. I am going to miss you so much and I don't have the words to give you for it – you know that I prefer action over useless words but how can I show you that I'll miss you in my life like a limb? How can I fight my way down to you and bring you back? I would do it. I would. I would fight down to whatever resting place you believe you're going to and drag you back by those big ears of yours. There would be guards and beasts prowling the fringes but how could they stop us from bringing you back?"

Tears fell onto his weathered skin. Seren mirrored my sorrow and I was so thankful for her there, keeping my mind steady as grief tore into me like a savage beast. I brushed a hand over his hair, watching his still face with aching fondness. "But I can't be selfish. You are at peace now Beryl. You can see all the ones you love again and there is no reason to fight or to be sad anymore. So, don't be afraid of what comes next. Your wife will be there with your children, patient and ready to welcome you back and not aged a day since the day this world took them from you. Just – have a song ready for me when it is my time please. Something I can stamp my feet too."

I drew away, my heart heavy and with my face a mess of salty tears and puffy eyes. "We will see each other again, Beryl. That is a promise."

It hurt just a little less to imagine Beryl in the great beyond, given a warrior's welcome behind the veil of death. His family would be waiting for him there with open arms, ready to here about his life and how he had found some semblance of strength with the Rainier thieves. Tears continued to sluice down my cheeks, my breath catching.

I could see him in my mind's eye, rising with a huff to greet me. 'You lasted longer than I thought you would' he would say. 'Welcome Lilia. It is time to rest."

Seren's hot breath ghosted the crown of my head. "We will make sure we have stories to tell him when it is our time. But it not our time. Not yet."

"No." I agreed. "Not yet."

Stepping away felt like confirmation of his death. Mariyl slipped her hand into mine, her lovely eyes red from crying. As I walked to where the Rainier thieves stood, Grey tucked me into his side.

"It is time." Seren told us, her voice heavy with sorrow.

She circled the pyre slowly and her sorrow seeped into mine. A headache bloomed between my temples as Seren pressed the tip of her snout to Beryl's brow with a shudder. The bond rushed with what felt like a torrent of water; it was a mourning so strong that I could have been caught up in the current and pulled out into the dark depths of the sea.

Seren sighed deeply, raising her head and those dark eyes glistened. A dragon could cry. She stood back, those long velveteen wings extending slightly. Her maw opened and fire sparked at the back of her throat. Then, fire burst out and we watched as Seren lit Beryl's funeral pyre.

Fire rushed over wood, sparking and devouring. Mariyl turned her head into my shoulder, crying openly and I held her there, eyes riveted on how the fire continued to rise and black smoke rose up into the drab sky.

I was sad but under that, I was furious. Furious enough to contemplate ravaging the world to the ground, burning it at the injustice of it all. Why me? Why us? Had we all not suffered enough in this god-forsaken land to justify happiness. All of us had lost people, lost the lives we had been born into. We had been beaten, mocked, humiliated and yet, we all overcame that to learn to fight for ourselves and to love another again.

I had lost my mother, what beauty I might have had, my step-brother and then after years of darkness, I had found these men and Seren. We had found each other.

And Desmund took it from me.

Just like he had taken my mother. Mother's death had driven my father to reclusion and to marry that monster. That had led to my engagement to Bashkar. That had led to artwork on my body and the life of a sick baby boy depending on me.

"No." I couldn't think of Atri now – the golden haired boy who had loved me unreservedly and whose only sin was that he was born sick.

Desmund had taken so much from me without a care in the world. Without recognition of who he had done it to. And he would continue to do it countless others.

"This has to mean something Seren." The wood cracked as it burned. Beryl's body was completely engulfed in flames now. "We were bonded by fate. We have to make it worth something."

The mighty dragon, once a feeble little thing, looked at me with her large eyes. "I know that tone of voice Lilia. You are thinking destruction."

"I am thinking decimation."

"That is a dark path to go down Lilia." Seren said. "But I will follow you wherever you go."

"Thank you." I could see myself through Seren's eyes. Eyes rimmed with red, but my face so unbearably cold as I stared at the funeral pyre. There should have time for music and for dancing, but Beryl was the men who always started that and we just joined in.

The sun broke behind the clouds but we felt no warmth. "How can the world be so cold and cruel all the time Seren?"

"We have had happiness Lilia. We have had good times. The bad just always tend to overshadow us."

"The happy times never stay with me. It's always the dark times, dragging us down and forcing us to remember." I clenched my hands tight, my nails digging into the soft flesh of my palm. A sudden wave of panic overwhelmed me, pinching my throat tight. "This can't be real. This can't be real. Seren...please tell me this is a nightmare."

Even as I begged, I knew it wasn't true. The smoke was thick and it tickled my nose, overwhelming my senses so that all I smelled was his burning body, all I heard was the cracking wood and all I could see was Beryl vanishing in fire and smoke.

"What do we do now?" Red croaked suddenly. "I cannot go back to that house, Emilio."

"Neither can I." Grey whispered. "It – it is not home anymore."

It couldn't be home. Home for us was a place that we had crafted, safe from the turmoil of our violent lives. Leishe had been our home. Our little tavern. Our house with the things we held dear. Memories encased in walls that were more good than bad.

Sage looked to me, his exotic eyes dark and intense. A rage was set in the tightness of his jaw and I shivered, remembering how volatile the Sage could be when pressed. My brother wanted the same thing that I did. I understood him without needing to hear the words.

I dipped my head in agreement.

For a moment, he looked relieved. As if he had expected me to say no, but how could he doubt me? I would follow these men to the ends of the earth if I needed to. Being beside Beryl's pyre just reminded me more keenly of how much I loved them.

Then his expression set again. "Agents of the King wait in Leishe for the Dragon Rider. Anene is battling a force led by Desmund, the man who led Zosia to kill Beryl. There is only one way we can get to Desmund now. There is only one way to destroy him. Killing him singly will not be retribution enough. By burning his movement to the ground so that the only power he possess is that of having his bones atop the ash of his army."

Ash's brow tightened, but his expression was fierce. "We join the Lycan King's army?"

"We ally ourselves to the Lycan King." Sage corrected. "We are no-one's slaves. Not now. Never again. The First Rider has her own protection."

Seren snorted and malice dripped from every word, a promise for fiery retribution. "Then we go to war. For our brother. For Beryl."

"For Beryl," We mirrored.

Sage's eyes shone and his hand fisted over his heart. "For Cormac."

Acrid, dark smoke rose up into the skies. I fisted my hand over my thundering heart and the rest of us mirrored Sage once more. "For Cormac." 

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And so ends the life of the eldest, most patient Rainier thief. 

This chapter has been a long time coming, but it finally came. It just needed the right sad/ determined music to get the words flowing from me. 

Tell me, what did you think? 

Is Lilia warming up to the Lycan? Is it wise? 

What of the Sage's plan - not to just kill Desmund, but to raze his army to the ground aswell? Do you think they could do it?

And if they join the King's army, what awaits them. Especially the rumoured dragon Rider who is not a man, but a female who was once a Lady but now is an infamous thief and killer. 

Until next time - SaoiMarie.