Grace of a Wolf-Chapter 46: Caine: Inane Argument

CAINE

The warlock is an annoying companion on a long drive, but his ability to track the girl’s presence is little short of miraculous.

"I’m telling you," Jack-Eye says, gesturing wildly in the cramped backseat at Thom, "a woolly mammoth would absolutely destroy an elephant in combat. Thicker fur, larger tusks—built for the ice age, man."

Thom shakes his head. His glasses slip down his nose, and he pushes them back with trembling fingers. "Elephants have superior intelligence and agility. African bull elephants can weigh up to seven tons and reach nearly thirteen feet. Your mammoth would be too slow."

"Too slow? Are we forgetting they hunted in packs?" Jack-Eye counters.

This conversation has lasted at least the last thirty miles. It started, oddly enough, with a conversation about chickens.

"We’re discussing a one-on-one arena battle," Thom says, voice steady despite his physical weakness. "Not a pack hunt."

Their absurdity grates on my nerves, and I clutch the steering wheel harder. "How much longer?" I ask, interrupting their inane debate without guilt.

"Three point seven miles, still in the same location," Thom answers, not missing a beat.

"Even without the pack there—"

"This entire discussion is idiotic," I say through gritted teeth. "Woolly mammoths are extinct."

Fenris’s voice is a low grumble. They’re just trying to pass the time. Not everyone broods in silence like you.

I don’t brood. I contemplate.

Four hours of contemplating how to approach the girl doesn’t count as brooding?

I ignore him, focusing on the road signs flashing past in the darkness. Three point seven miles. There’s a tug in my chest, almost a whisper of premonition telling me I’m close. The distance between us has become physical pain—like someone slowly peeling back layers of skin.

"How about now?" I ask.

Thom sighs. "Same as thirty seconds ago, Your Majesty. The girl hasn’t moved. She’s been stationary for hours."

"And the interference?"

"Still present."

My fingers tap against the steering wheel. "Is she in danger?" I’ve asked this a hundred times, at least.

"I don’t believe so. It isn’t malevolent, but it’s impossible to tell for certain."

Jack-Eye leans forward, grabbing onto my headrest. "What do you think, boss? I still say the mammoth—"

"Shut up," I growl. "Your hypothetical fight between extinct creatures and modern elephants is beyond asinine."

Silence fills the car. I feel a slight pang of regret—not for silencing them, but for revealing how tightly wound I am. A king should never appear desperate, even when he is.

You are desperate, Fenris chides. Admit it.

But of course, the silence doesn’t last. Not with my beta in this car. Why did I bring him along, again?

"How does it work?" Jack-Eye asks after a moment, turning to face Thom. "Your tracking. Is it by scent, like us?"

The warlock seems grateful for the change in subject, judging by the relief in his voice. "No, not scent. It’s essence. Everything that exists occupies not just physical space but essentialistic space as well. Every living thing disrupts the essence of an area simply by existing within it."

Jack-Eye’s brow furrows. "Like mana? In those, what do you call them... video games?"

"It’s called by many names. Mana, ether, chi, prana." Thom’s hands flutter as he explains, then fall back to his lap, trembling. "But it all boils down to the energy something holds within the world. Your... Grace... has a particularly distinct essence. Bright. Unusual for a human."

I file this information away, another puzzle piece I don’t yet know where to place.

Jack-Eye whistles low. "Must be nice, tracking something so clearly. We lose scent trails all the time."

Thom’s laugh is hollow. "It comes at a price."

I glance in the rearview mirror. The warlock’s skin holds the pallor of old parchment, bluish veins visible at his temples. His eyes are sunken, rimmed with dark circles. Hours ago, when I first dragged him from Forest Springs, he’d been merely nervous. Now he looks half-dead.

"I’ll need at least a week to recover from today’s work." His hands tremble more violently as he shoves his glasses up his nose again. "The spell consumes my own essence to track another’s. A fair trade, usually, but the distance was... substantial."

Jack-Eye shoots me a look. I can’t see it, but I can feel it in the back of my head. He probably feels bad for Thom, but I can’t pretend to feel anything for his suffering. The warlock is a tool, nothing more—a means to reclaim what’s mine.

You should care more, Fenris murmurs. Magic users are rare. Breaking this one won’t serve you. They’re weak, but they can be useful. His talent is a good one to keep around.

I scoff. My wolf acts as if I’ve done something terrible. I didn’t break him. He’s doing his job.

And if his job kills him?

My fingers tap against the wheel again. Then I’ll find another.

The GPS announces our exit, and I take the turn sharper than necessary. Thom grunts as he’s thrown against the door.

"There." He points with a shaking finger toward a green sign illuminated in our headlights. "Pinewood Campground, next right."

My pulse quickens. We’re close enough now that I can almost taste her in the air, a ghostly imitation of blueberry sweetness with each breath.

That’s the pillow, Fenris says, pragmatic as always.

Grace’s pillow sits in the passenger seat, buckled in to keep it from falling onto the ground. Jack-Eye knew better than to say a word when he saw it, but Thom had the audacity to say it wouldn’t help him track her any better.

It’s a silly thing to bring along, but the scent wafting off it is the only thing keeping me calm and in control, like a fresh breeze coming through a bloody field of thoughts.

The brief hint of sanity is something I haven’t felt since before Fenris’s voice came into my head. Before the weight of my crown wore down my soul.

It’s a peace I never felt, not even before.

Because Grace is the one.

I rub my temple with a sigh. Arguing with Fenris only makes the headache worse.