Once inside the gate, a murder-holed tunnel led to an open square with multiple exits, all barred and guarded. Get that far without dying and then start all over again. An enemy had to find the right door. Battle through. Amal’s army was deadly, but they were under her thrall and fought with no will of their own. Set them on a course and they charged blindly.
There’d be chaos in the streets. Bells clanging in two warning towers. Mace—along with an Alpen commander—would keep the fight to the streets, where his men had the advantage. Fallon had ambush teams for those who streamed from the hidden tunnels. Anson Salas and Elijah Stone led the Carmag assault teams. With any luck, Amal’s focus would be on the raging battle.
While we slipped in through a backdoor that time had forgotten. “One of those rat holes,” Angel said.
I sat in the sand, counting the arrows I had left. Checking the blood bag for damage.
Men settled in for the night. With the fire, the cave was surprisingly warm, and as the embers guttered into a rosy glow, a comradery eased the weight between my shoulders. Angel sat nearby, drawing a whetstone along the edge of a blade, and I asked, “What was he like?”
Three long, deliberative strokes of the blade filled the silence before she answered. “It’s a child’s memory I cherish most. How he would tip his head when he laughed. Bump my shoulder with his when I was sad. Tug on my hair like… get over it, brat. He took me into the forest, pointed out plants I could use for food. Those that were medicinal. The poisonous berries to avoid. He told me to always be prepared because enemies never waited—and I screamed at him. After he died. About why he hadn’t been prepared.”
Another slow, hard swipe across the whetstone. “He said he valued hidden beauty, although sometimes he was willing to destroy it. You have his eyes. That stubborn little lift of your chin. Sometimes, I see you move and think it’s him. I didn’t learn about you until years later. Fee told me.”
I swallowed dryly. “You’ve met the King of the Forest?”
“The Green Man—yes. For years, I believed he was a strange old man who became my mentor. He found me where I was fostering. Took me on adventures in spaces he called wrinkles. He taught me secrets, and when I was old enough, skilled enough, he told me what I was destined to do. Find the men who betrayed my brother and kill them.”
“You’re a one-eyed mercenary,” I said, even though my heart was racing at the hint of challenge—to an alpha. “Wasn’t that a foolish thing to do?”
“Was it?” Her canines flashed. “I have one good eye, but I also have a wolf, and she’s a vindictive, scary bitch with two good eyes and crazy courage. She never hesitated when the magic asked.”
I tipped my head, watching the emotions play across Angel’s face—the face of my aunt, my father’s sister. The closest I would ever come to seeing him. “How many did she kill before the others gave up the challenge?”
“Three.”
“And those who betrayed your brother?”
“Dead.”
I reached into my pocket and fished out Amal’s rune. “Once I’m close enough to Amal to show her this, I can end the suffering. Pelonie misused the seidr magic to trick the queens. She set a never-ending cycle in motion, corrupting every wolf’s life. The nymphs, the witches. Fee’s power gets wonky in the Carmag because of the magic. Failles have no wolves because of what Pelonie did. We’ll never have peace… until it’s ended. Until I end it.”
“What is it like?” she asked. “To not have a wolf? I’ve tried to imagine.”
“It’s a knowing,” I said. “My mother described it as a black empty space inside me, and if I ever went there, I might never come back. I used to think a monster lived in the dark. A monster who strengthened every time Grayson was near. And then I met Caerwen, Effa. They told me what it was, the faille’s gift—to become the weapon needed to end the curse. The sins of the kings and queens. To end Amal and put the magic right.”
I swiped my damp cheek while Angel bent her head to study the carved and eroded rune. “These marks remind me of that tattoo on your wrist.”
“A dread lord’s sigil,” I agreed. “Same magic.”
“How are you going to defeat Amal?”
“I’m going to find Grayson. Become his weapon and kill her.”
The storm resumed overnight. When we left the cave in the morning, the weather was miserable. Blowing snow stung my face. Each inhale pushed frost into my lungs. Levi had dressed hurriedly in his still-damp clothes, but the three wolves stalked ahead, often racing into the trees, searching.
We kept to a trail Angel plotted out, using landmarks I tried to memorize. The exercise kept me focused. When we reached a rise above the town, I saw stone houses, multi-story, with slate roofs and smoke drifting from some chimneys. More smoke marked smoldering wreckage, buildings blackened, carts blocking the roads. The scents in the air mingled; threads of cooking food mixed with wood smoke and something charred and unnatural. At the edge of town, blackened mounds remained too warm for the snow to stick; I knew of the usual practice for the dead.
I didn’t want to think about it. What worried me was Amal’s rune, if it might rouse when we got close enough to the queen’s energy. Instead, no flicker of life touched my palm. Nothing from the imprisoned wolf. With Amal still alive, the wolf would not die, but she might have faded to a mere spark with no sight of blue sky or sunlight. No fresh air to breathe, or space to run, to stretch her legs. Howl for the pure joy of living free.
During the night, I’d crooned to it as if that made any difference.
It didn’t. The stone was cold and silent.
In the distance, faint cries rose from the town. Hardly worth sorting through when the clashes were not from a battle. We slipped back into the trees, climbing a slope, while the three wolves disappeared. Angel said they’d be scavenging for clothes and would join us later.
Levi contacted Mace through the pack bond, said Mace was his usual brusque self, in battle mode. He’d said something about “showing up late” and “eye on the target,” and I wasn’t sure if Levi was sanitizing it for my sake.
But I’d be worse than a fool if I underestimated the cunning power of the enemy. The dregs of her screams were in my head, although I hadn’t heard her voice in months. Hadn’t watched disasters through her eyes. I might have lost the advantage.
