Mated to the Warrior Beast

214 On the Way to War – Part ~ GAR ~

They reached the valley ahead of schedule, but Gar’s hair was already standing on end. As per tradition when a rite was held, or there was need for negotiation, the Alpha followed drummers who pounded a steady beat—to announce the arrival of the King, or in this case Queen—and to acknowledge the importance of the day. When they reached the valley the drums didn’t stop. Instead, the drummers spread out in the trees of the wood, their deep, rolling bass setting a rhythm in the air that prickled his skin and raised his hackles.

It sucked at him, drew at him—which was probably good. Without something to snap fingers in front of his face he was only halfway present. Everything in him yearned to be back at the fishing cave, holding his mate and grieving with her.

He’d woken her early—before dawn, because he needed to leave. And after holding her and whispering his promises, he’d told her.

Elreth was pregnant. It was early. Very early. But there was no doubt.

Rika had tensed in the circle of his arms, biting her lip. “I’m happy for her.”

Gar had flushed, disappointed in himself, because that wasn’t the response he’d had when he scented that flicker of richness underlying his sister’s scent.

But he hadn’t missed the spear of grief that shot through his mate’s chest—or the ache she carried, even as they said goodbye and she kissed him and pleaded with him to be safe.

He hadn’t missed the salt and tears in her scent, the shivering fear, or the rage… the burning, simmering rage that bubbled in his mate’s chest at the injustice of it all.

.....

Running back to the Tree City had been fleeing, if he was honest with himself. Fleeing his mate’s emotion—and his own.

He didn’t have time for that right now. No space to give it room to breathe. It was right that he put that aside and focus.

But his mind didn’t want to. And his heart had never left Rika.

So it was good, he decided when they stood on the edge of the valley where they’d been told to position. It was good, and right that he give his attention to this conflict, here and now.

He was one of the lucky ones. His mate was far away in a place entirely unknown to the Chimera. Even if this went horribly wrong, she would be safe until he could get to her.

He was blessed. He should have been grateful.

Instead, his skin itched.

Elreth stood at his left, scanning the valley for the moment the Chimera appeared.

But her scent, usually so solid—too solid—was wavering today as well.

What was wrong with all of them.

Oh, that’s right. They were all still fucking children, but now their toys were the life and death of their people.

After they’d made it to the valley, Aaryn turned away from Elreth and disappeared into the trees behind them. Which must mean the time was approaching.

Aaryn’s role today was to stay at the back, behind defenses, far enough away that he could return to the Tree City at any moment if it became clear that this day wouldn’t end in peace, but in conflict. Then even if the others were harmed in the fight, he would remain back to lead the people in the event that Elreth was lost.

And he was pissed about it.

But Elreth hadn’t seemed to notice him go. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes scanning the valley below. They stood that way, both of them examining this space that was surrounded by trees, but wide and long enough that neither party could approach the other without being seen.

There would be no covert attacks today. Gar wasn’t sure whether to be relieved, or terrified.

Had Elreth made the right decision in coming to these talks? For the first time, Gar second guessed the decisions they’d made.

But as they stood there for close to an hour, nothing changed. No one appeared, and he told himself over and over, there was no point examining the what-ifs. They were just his fear talking.

The sun had moved in the sky before Elreth sighed.

“What should I do, Gar?” she breathed so quietly, only he was close enough to hear her. “How the hell are we going to do this? I can’t see any way… What… what do you think Dad would do now?”

Gar’s breath whooshed out of him and he almost broke. Almost turned on his sister and told her, point blank, that if their father had been here, they never would have reached this point.

But he knew that thought for the bitter, pointless attack that it was.

Still… what should he say?

His mind turned back over all the endless—usually irritating—moments his father had given unsolicited advice. To all the moments he’d spoken about leadership and choices and…

And he landed on the day when he was fourteen years old and just beginning to truly resent his father.

They’d been training—his father putting him in the dirt effortlessly, again and again.

He never had believed in going easy on someone who asked to be trained.

But after eating dust for the dozenth time, Gar had leapt to his feet, blushing and embarrassed by his father’s taunts, and spat something about perfection.

Something about his dad being the only one who could attain it, so it wasn’t a fair measure.

His father had been stunned, his eyebrows crawling high—and so had Behryn who was also there giving advice and poking at Gar as well.

Then Behryn had burst out laughing.

“Your father? Perfect? Holy shit, Gar—that’s a good one.”

His father’s lips had thinned and he’d grimaced, though there was a hint of amusement in it, too.

While Behryn held his stomach, he’d spluttered about all the times Reth had been wrong—all the times. Over and over again.

“Ha ha, yes, Behr, thank you.”

But uncle Behryn hadn’t stopped crowing until Dad finally ankle hooked him and dumped him on the ground.

Then, while Behryn protested and leaped back to his feet, Gar watched his dad’s face go entirely serious.

“Gar, don’t misunderstand, I’m deeply touched that you think I know everything and do everything right—hey, maybe next time I tell you something, you might listen?”

Behryn snorted again, but Gar only folded his arms. “I didn’t mean you are perfect. I meant that everyone else thinks you are.”

His father had raised an eyebrow and shot Behryn a glance, who’d finally straightened his face. Then his dad had turned back to him and put a hand to his shoulder in a gesture Gar was coming to realize he used both to connect with people, and to press something in when he felt it was important.

“Son, you know—and everyone else does too, especially your mother—that I’m far from perfect. But I am a damn good leader. The Creator made me with the capacity for that—just like He’s done with you. But being truly good as an Alpha… well, I can tell you what I learned the hard way when I was just a few years older than you: The best leaders are the best listeners. The best leaders are willing to see when someone else has a strength or quality that they don’t—and has the humility to rely on them for it.

“If you really want to be strong, Gar, if you want to succeed in the hierarchy, you’ll have to stop trying to do everything yourself. Lean into your strengths and bring others along with you who can be trusted, not only to help you, but to fill the gaps that exist in you. Because we all have them.”

Gar had grimaced. His father was forever spewing this kind of advice, and even though he knew there was probably some truth to it, it didn’t help him as an adolescent trying to find his strength in the first place.

But then Behryn cleared his throat. “And don’t try to fight what you can’t control,” he said. “The Creator didn’t allow it without a purpose.”

Jolted suddenly, Gar shoved the memory away, along with the pain of missing his father, and the relevance of that advice to his own situation. His and Rika’s.

He couldn’t focus on that now. He had to figure out how to help his sister get through to that fucking wolf.

While Elreth waited—she knew him well enough to know when he was thinking through something—Gar cleared his throat and tried to get his thoughts in order.

What were their strengths? And what did they need? What could they control about this situation that would help them?

Then he blinked and took a deep breath.

He turned to El with a simmering mix of dread and hope. “I need to tell you something,” he said quietly.

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