I laid out all the weapons once I was home. Planned and sorted and ran through every obstacle until the scenarios became jumbled. Laid on my back on the bed and tried to sleep. Dawn was a rumor in the night sky when I dressed warmly enough to remain comfortable for nine hours. Decided not to press my luck with bathroom breaks, packing only some cheese and a few tart apples. I’d gone longer without food or water.
Amal’s rune stone was a slight weight in the zippered pocket hidden in the fur-lined trousers; if anyone searched me, the stone would be overlooked. The tunic sweater itched at first, but I appreciated the warmth. The guard was waiting in the shadows. I approached the last truck in the convoy and then crouched down to scan the neighboring trucks. Looking for any errant Alpen sentries and finding none.
The guard gestured with an outstretched hand, a conductor directing me toward the lowered tailgate, then making quick work of closing it into place once I was inside, diving beneath the tarp. His palm slapped twice against the metal, a dull thump that signaled the driver. The truck’s engine coughed to life, and the tires lurched forward.
“Gods be with you,” the guard mouthed as the truck moved away and he faded into the shadows.
Nine hours in the back of an unheated truck caused muscle cramps I wouldn’t wish on an enemy. I stretched my legs out, ran through a sequence of yoga exercises that didn’t resemble the real thing. Crawled on all fours to peer out through the canvas flaps meant to conceal the cargo inside. Nothing but snow, roiling up behind the tires, coming down from the dull sky. The chilling wind sent me back to the blanket nest, where I slipped into that twilight place between wakefulness and sleep. Where I was a child, listening to my mother’s voice.
Go to sleep, darling. It’s a long ride.
Where are we going, mama?
Far away from here. Seattle. Where it’s safe.
But I don’t want to leave.
Sometimes, darling, you have to leave those you love if you’re ever going to have a life.
I love you, mama, and I don’t want anything if it means not being with you.
We don’t always have a choice, dear heart. If you stay, you’ll only get hurt. Run now. Run while you still have a chance.
Are we talking about something new? I asked the voice in my head—my mother’s voice.
You’ve been so brave, Noa. I wish you’d listened to me. All those years ago.
That isn’t an answer.
It’s all I can give.
The tires thumped. The truck lurched as the road roughened. Ice rimmed the edges of the tailgate and stiffened the canvas that flapped dully, much like the pain above my right eye. Cold weather always triggered a headache, and the pain had nothing to do with the dream conversation I’d had with my mother.
I uncoiled slowly, testing my muscles, joints, the level of stiffening. My mouth tasted like my last meal—a delight from Hattie. I’d hadn’t been able to tell her no. My teeth hurt. None of the truck surfaces were shiny enough to catch a reflection of my hair, so I judged by touch alone and concluded that a braid remained but bristled like an irritated hedgehog. My right shoulder throbbed from supporting my body weight. But from the changing rumble of engines, the convoy had reached its destination. Voices punctuated the slamming of metal doors.
I was rubbing at my teeth, trying to summon some cleanliness, when a man whipped the canvas coverings back, exposing the blankets where I kneeled. Exposing me as the stowaway I was and allowing in the furious arctic wind.
“Get out,” Lec Rus growled.
“This instant?”
“I can drag you.”
“Help would be nice,” I said, “since I can’t straighten my legs.”
“It wouldn’t be help,” he answered. Always the Alpen snarl at the end.
“I can still syphon.” I spread my fingers, a sad threat, but one that narrowed his eyes. “Care to get close enough? Find out what it feels like?”
He made a show of looking around. The truck had diverted away from the others in the convoy. I let my gaze skim over bleak, snow-covered crates piled high to block visibility. Beyond, pine trees stabbed upward, the branches heavy with accumulated snow which fell in thick slabs and thudded into pieces on the frozen ground.
Behind Lec Rus stood ten men, heavily clothed, radiating the hostility of the unwilling ally. The alpha’s smirk annoyed me when he said, “Hardly a fair fight when every wolf you see is Alpen. No one else will protect you.”
“I will.”
The male voice startled—and then terrified me. I jerked my head around. Gods—what more would a girl want? Not only an angry, stubborn Mule, but Barend, here to fight over who got to me first.
The tips of my fingers burned as I clenched my hands. Breathed to slow my racing heart. The sweat gathering beneath my woolen clothes was uncomfortable and clammy. I forced one leg to move, then the other, scooting over the open tailgate, unladylike on my butt before I slid out of the truck.
