45. FIELD
924 Words
= Mikael =
“Make sure the farmer’s request is handled properly, Lorne,” I said as we stepped out of the mill. “No delays.”
“Yes, Alpha,” he replied, already nodding as he mentally sorted through the tasks ahead.
The afternoon sun spilled over us the moment we crossed the threshold, warm and unrestrained, a sharp contrast to the dim grind of stone and grain inside. I paused without meaning to, my gaze lifting to the landscape stretching out before us.
The rice fields rolled endlessly across the valley, neat rows shimmering beneath the light, their green blades swaying gently as the wind passed through. For a few heartbeats, I simply stood there, taking it in, letting the calm settle into my bones.
Then a sound cut through the stillness.
A voice.
Soft, slightly raspy, unmistakable.
“So this is the only mill here?”
My breath hitched before I could stop it. I knew that voice the instant it reached my ears, as if my body had recognized it before my mind caught up.
Amara.
My eyes scanned the open space, instinctively searching for her.
“No,” another voice answered, close by, familiar but secondary. “This isn’t the only one, Luna—but it is the biggest.”
Caryl. Her personal…assistant.
The sound was coming from the side of the mill.
Without realizing it, my feet were already moving, carrying me toward the source. I rounded the corner just as they came into view, Amara walking beside her assistant, the two of them heading toward the front where Lorne and I stood.
Amara didn’t notice me right away.
Her attention was fixed on the narrow trail, boots carefully navigating around patches of mud as though the ground itself were out to betray her. She moved with quiet intent, brows drawn in concentration, one hand clutching a rolled parchment against her side.
It wasn’t until she lifted her head that she realized she wasn’t alone.
Her steps faltered.
“Oh—Mikael!” she exclaimed, surprise flickering openly across her face.
Her gaze shifted to Lorne beside me. Without hesitation, Lorne inclined his head in respect, stepping slightly back the way trained warriors did when acknowledging someone of status. Amara’s attention returned to me almost immediately, her eyes bright, curious—lingering just a second longer than necessary, as if she were trying to read something in my expression.
Interest shimmered there too.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, beating me to the question before I could even open my mouth.
I followed her line of sight for a moment, glancing toward the old mill standing at the edge of the clearing, its wooden frame weathered but sturdy.
“Just making my rounds,” I replied casually, though nothing about her presence felt routine.
She nodded once, seemingly satisfied.
Behind us, Caryl and Lorne exchanged a look before quietly moving away, giving us the courtesy of distance—and privacy.
“And you?” I asked, turning back to her.
Amara hesitated. Her eyes flicked briefly toward Caryl, who lingered a few steps away, before returning to me.
“Caryl was showing me around,” she said, then moved closer, closing the space between us with an ease that felt intentional.
She lifted the parchment she’d been holding. With careful fingers, she unrolled it between us.
The map of Veyrath spread open—its borders etched in dark ink, territories marked with familiar symbols and names that carried weight. Paths, rivers, strongholds.
She held it out as if inviting me to look closer.
“I asked her to guide me around,” she said easily, as if the idea had come to her on a whim. “I wanted to see the territory for myself. Every part of it.”
Her gaze swept across the land as she spoke, then she gestured ahead, pointing first toward the town, then to a handful of nearby districts that sprawled beyond it. “So far, Caryl and I have only explored this area… and this one,” she added, mapping her progress with her finger in the air.
I huffed a quiet breath, more amused than surprised.
“It would take you days to cover the entire territory,” I said plainly. “Don’t tell me you’re doing all of that on foot.”
As I spoke, I turned toward the main road leading back to town and started walking. A second later, she fell into step beside me without even realizing it, matching my pace as if it came naturally.
“Yeah,” she replied after a beat. Then, as if remembering an important detail, she added, “But when it’s not too hot, we shift and run.”
That gave me pause.
My steps didn’t falter, but my thoughts did. A report flashed through my mind—unresolved disturbances near the borders, tracks that didn’t belong to anyone in the pack, whispers of a lone rogue slipping through the perimeter. One rogue wasn’t a threat my men couldn’t handle.
But that wasn’t the point.
Not when she was wandering the territory this freely.
My jaw tightened slightly as I weighed the risks. Curiosity was harmless. Vulnerability was not.
“I’ll assign a few deltas to go with you tomorrow,” I said at last, keeping my tone even. “If you plan on exploring again.”
It wasn’t a suggestion.
And whether she realized it or not, it was as much protection as it was permission.
- Writer
