To Rule the Alpha's Heart

39. A Safer World

CALLA VORONÍN

Calla awoke to the smell of honey in her nose and salt in the air.

At first, she couldn't open her eyes. As if they'd been closed for a year and the muscles forgot how to function properly. Sightless, Calla focused on reconnecting to her other senses.

Blankets and furs cushioned her, warming her against the chill of Nortend air that she'd grown accustomed to over the past few months. A gull cried in the distance, accompanied by the sound of waves crashing against a hard surface. Calla had the faintest sensation of the world rocking beneath her, almost like she was on a boat.

Unease festered in her gut, and Calla willed her eyes to open. She needed to wake up. View her surroundings and assure her traitorous mind that she was not, in fact, on a boat.

"Iva? Cyril? I think she's waking up!" Lucia's sweet, youthful voice sounded from beside Calla's head.

Calla groaned in response, and footsteps filled the room or tent where she rested.

A soft, nurturing hand pressed against Calla's forehead, the fingers gently pushing hair behind Calla's ear. She recognized Iva's motherly touch.

"Lucia, go fetch Arkan," Cyril instructed, his masculine voice somewhat hesitant. "Tell him that we might need his help..."

Lucia's footsteps pattered away, and Calla finally felt her eyelids begin to function once more. Slowly, as she regained control of her body, her eyes fluttered open. She winced against the small cracks of light streaming into her dark chamber through a nearby doorway.

Not a tent, then, she decided. She forced herself to focus on the figures standing in the room. Two figures. Iva and Cyril. But... where was Einarr?

"Slowly, Calla," Cyril coaxed, sweeping across the room to reach the side of the cot where she rested. "You've been asleep for a long time."

What? Calla wanted to ask, but she couldn't open her mouth. Her lips were painfully dry, cracking and sore. Her throat burned with a need for water. What had happened to her?

She tried to recall her last memory, but her head buzzed. As she tried to concentrate, the buzz turned into a splitting ache. She only remembered the scent of honey... Honey and Einarr.

"Wh–" Calla coughed, clearing the gravel from the back of her throat before trying again. "Where am I?"

Iva's fingers stroked Calla's temple again, and Cyril took a seat on the edge of the cot. His hand landed on her blanket-covered ankle. "Calla, perhaps you should try to eat or drink something first? I'll fetch you–"

"Where am I?" Calla demanded again, her voice stronger this time. "Where– where is Einarr?"

Fear coiled deep in Calla's stomach as Iva immediately averted her gaze, but her fingers never ceased their stroking. She knew something. What had happened to Einarr? Had the war already started?

"Calla... we left the Salt Caves two nights ago. We traveled down the Dothakan River to the coast and boarded a merchant's vessel this morning. The merchant ships are larger than longships and can navigate the winter currents." Cyril began. His words were slow and methodical, like he'd rehearsed this speech a thousand times. "We are sailing–"

"Where is Einarr?" Calla interrupted him. The rest of his words washed over her head. She would worry about the ship and the voyage later, when she was reunited with her mate.

Thick silence settled over the cabin. More footsteps sounded from outside the cabin, announcing the arrival of Lucia and another familiar face. Arkan. Relief swept through Calla's chest at the sight of the Sanguin. Einarr could not be far away, then.