“I thought it would be safer to just wear the pendant.” I waved a hand wearily at the satchel where he had stashed the Lion Soul amulet. “So, I put it on and—”
“You put it on!” he shouted—again. As if he couldn't believe my idiocy. “Why would you put it on?!”
“Uh, I just told you that—”
“Don't you understand that these things are powerful?” Dal waved at his chest, where his own amulet gleamed. “It could have killed you! It's a fucking miracle you survived. The Great Mother must love morons!”
“No, I didn't know!” I shouted back.
Dal gaped at me. I'd bet it had been a long time since someone had shouted at him.
And I kept going. “You didn't tell me! You said you'd tell me about the stones and their fucking souls after I got the first one. So, no, I didn't think that putting a fucking necklace on could get me killed!”
Dalsharan let out a long breath. “And yet you live.”
“We'll see how long that lasts,” I muttered. “I just fucking yelled at the Hawk Lord. It seems as if I can't stop risking my ass.”
“Your ass is not at risk,” he said dryly. Then he added, “Not in that manner.”
I lifted a brow at him. “Are you trying to imply that you're so huge that—”
“Do not,” Dal cut me off, “finish that sentence.”
“You started it.” I grinned.
“Ravyn.” He shook his head. “You... what happened when you put it on?”
“I felt weird.”
“Weird.” The Hawk Lord closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. “Weird in a... oh, I don't know, a leonine way?”
“If you're asking if I felt kind of like a lion, then yeah. Now that you mention it. I almost roared.”
Dalsharan's eyes popped open. “You almost roared?”
“Weird, right? You think the stone did some kind of lion-fae-magic on me?”
“Lion-fae-magic,” he drawled. “Yes, I think it was lion-fae-magic.”
“Don't get all patronizing with me,” I growled. “You shoved me into your kinky leather straps, flew me out here with no briefing—even though you had ample opportunity to give me one during the flight, and then sent me into a Farungal stronghold unprepared. I'm allowed some leeway with my terminology.”
“Fuck,” Dalsharan whispered and sort of crumpled onto the ground.
“Whoa, now, don't be getting your pretty robe dirty,” I said as I fumbled for the satchel.
As I mentioned, fae satchels are enchanted to hold a shitload of stuff and this one was no exception. Camping supplies came to hand as soon as I reached for them with intent. I pulled out a rolled pallet and tossed it to the Hawk Lord before bringing another out for me. Dal stared at the cylinder of cushion as if he'd never seen one before. So after I unrolled mine, I grabbed his and opened it for him. It puffed up into a fairly comfortable bed.
“Get your fine ass on that pallet, Hawk Lord,” I nudged his knee with my boot before I plopped onto mine.
Dal blinked from the pallet, to me, and back again, then moved his fine ass. He brushed some dirt off before he sat on the cushion, then lifted his stare to me. “I'm so sorry, Ravyn.”
“Well, that was unexpected,” I murmured and scratched my head.
“You're right, I didn't prepare you enough. I thought your sensitivity to magic would warn you from doing...” he waved his hand vaguely.
“Doing something stupid?” I asked and started fishing around in the satchel again. My arm disappeared to my shoulder, but I still couldn't find what I was looking for. “I think this satchel is fucking with me,” I muttered.
“Give me that damn thing,” Dal growled.
I handed it over. “I was looking for a pillow.”
“Not food?” He smirked as he pulled out two cloth-wrapped bundles and tossed one to me.
I caught it. The smell and warmth of hot food hit me. “Yes! I knew you were fucking with me earlier!” I unwrapped the bundle and found a meat pie. My face fell.
“I wasn't lying to you.” Dalsharan chuckled. “I eat the same food everyone else does. The only exception is when I have guests.” He stretched out his leg and pushed at my boot. “Come on, the meat pies are good.”
“Yeah, they're not bad, and at least it's hot.” I took a bite and sighed.
Dal passed me a water flask next. Then came a pillow and a blanket. I mumbled my thanks as he ate delicately. The Hawk Lord might eat the same things his soldiers did, but he didn't eat the same way. Every movement screamed of wealth and power, from the strong but polite bites to the way he brushed crumbs off his lips. I shrugged and chowed down. Crumbs went everywhere.
“I'm sorry I yelled at you,” I said after I had a few bites in my belly. “But you were getting a little hysterical.”
“I never get hysterical,” he said in a clipped tone.
I snorted. “Uh, yeah, you do. Cause you just did. You were freaking the fuck out.”
“You did catch the part where you almost turned into a lion, right?” Dal asked dryly.
I dropped my pie. “What now?”
“That weird way you felt—it's a prelude to shifting,” he took great delight in informing me. “And if your body had tried to shift, it would not have succeeded. You would have been twisted to pieces.”
“Fuck me,” I whispered.
“I haven't decided yet.”
I blinked. “Was that a joke?”
Dalsharan chuckled. “I thought we could use a little levity.”
“We have plenty of levity; I'm as levit as they come.”
“Levit is not a word.”
“It is now. Welcome to my world, Hawk Lord, where words aren't so much about being proper, but about being properly understood.” I winked at him. Then I went serious. “You said you'd tell me about the soul stones.”
“I suppose it's better late than never,” he muttered. “Very well. The Soul Stones are jewels imbued with the essence of our beasts—their souls. The magic within them connects directly to the kingdom of their beasts. That connection allows us warlords to draw on the magic of Varalorre in times of need.”
“The magic of an entire kingdom?” I whispered.
“Yes,” he said sternly. “Singly, they are very powerful, but they will work only for a member of the race they belong to. As they are the essence of our animal's soul, they magnify those abilities. By accessing his soul stone, a warlord can become stronger, faster, and more cunning. But if three warlords of different animal families were to unite their stones—an avian, a feline, and a canine—they would combine their power into a charm that could, at the very least, open wards.”