Calling it a village was overstating it a bit. It was a few dozen houses spread over a fairly large area. The kuvar’s house, one of the few made of both wood andstone, had a fire pit outside it, with a ring of stone benches for gatherings. There were similar places at the Compound, of course, and people were slowly finding their way back to each other after everything went to shit when they found out Zev was being forced to serve their former leader, Evgen, with some weird magic Sasha still didn’t really understand.
The door to the kuvar’s house was propped open with a stone, so Sasha assumed that was a sign he didn’t have to knock. He called out a hello and walked in, checking the corners of the room just in case Micah had come here after all. But the only person he saw was the kuvar. Dragan Wolf-Breaker was ridiculously good-looking and bled so much dominance in a singleglancethat, if Sasha weren’t hopelessly in love with his spitfire of a wife, he would probably swoon at the man’s feet. Dragan was seated at the table before the hearth, writing carefully on parchment—and he wrote the way Sasha always did, with his tongue caught between his teeth.
At Dragan’s feet, dozing with his head on his paws, was a snow-white wolf. The wolf lifted his head and gave a softwoofbefore trotting over and head-butting Sasha. His tongue lolled out, and he sat on his haunches.
“Feeling wolfy today, buddy?”
Aksa barked.
“Yeah, yeah, same, same.” Sasha scritched him behind the ears, and Aksa snuffled happily. “Writing your memoirs, Wolf-Breaker?”
“Writing to my daughter,” Dragan said. “In Arktos.”
Sasha had heard that the kuvar’s daughter, Elena, had left Lukos for the desert country across the sea and was now married—or mated; maybe that’s how she’d say it—to the ruler there. “Is Aksa gonna swim the ocean and carry the letter?”
“No,” Dragan said, and then, with a perfectly straight expression, “the letter would get wet.”
Sasha snorted, then laughed out loud. “Like I know how to send a letter across the world?”
“A ship, boy,” Dragan said, his dominance filtering through a heavy air of amusement. “Before the snows come, Owl-Eyed will meet a woman who visits here from the scholar’s country. He gives her his books to publish, and she will bring my letter to Elena.” Dragan smiled. “She is ruling in another country, my daughter. Did my mate tell you this, Black?”
Sasha nodded, reaching down to pet Aksa—as Zev was called when he was in his wolf form—and flashed a grin at Dragan. “He did, Wolf-Breaker.” They had a different system for names in the Compound, based on whatever sect your family came from, going back to the original group of exiles. Or something like that. It could get confusing. He would have taken Viv’s family name, since she was awesome and he adored her, but she seemed to like his, soBlackit was.
“She did well, she and her Aleks.” Dragan looked proud, but there was wistfulness in his expression, too. He probably missed his daughter, considering he’d raised her all by himself after his first wife died. Or mate—Sasha always forgot that was the word they used. Something about wolves and how into them they were. Figuratively. Or, in Dragan’s case, literally. Except not— They didn’t—Couldthey, when Zev was a…
The wolf barked, and Sasha looked between him and Dragan.
“Whatever you are thinking, stop,” Dragan said, putting down the quill.
Yeah, they probably weren’t into that. Whatever, he’d ask Zev later. “So, hey, I came by ’cause my little lady’s worried about Micah.”
Dragan gave him a curious look. “Why?”
“You didn’t see the fire in the woods? Micah’s house burned down. That’s why I’m here, to make sure he’s all right.”
In the blink of an eye, Zev stood where the wolf had been. He was naked, holding his pelt, his snow-white hair loose but for a single braid—the one he’d taken after he defeated Evgen in the fight that had broken his curse. “What do you mean, his house burned down?”
“Uh, the… honestly, Zev, I don’t know how that isn’t clear from the words. Fire? Wooden house? Whoosh?” He made a gesture with his hands to approximate flames devouring a cabin. It looked mostly like waving, but that’s what he meant. “What’d he tell you, he fell into a pile of ashes and rolled around in it?”
“Tell us? When?” Dragan asked, exchanging a look with Zev. “It has been some time since we’ve seen Micah. He brought a toy to send to my daughter, for the child she will soon have.” His voice rang with pride. “He did not look to be covered in ashes.”
Sasha groaned and stared up at the ceiling. Viv was going tomurderhim, and not in the fun way. “You’re saying he didn’t come here? After his house burned down?”
“That’s what we’re saying.” Dragan gave him a sharp look. “We did smell a fire a few nights ago, but we thought it was his kiln.”
“You didn’t go check?”
“No… he likes his privacy.” Zev looked anxiously at his mate. “I want to go look for him.”
“I’ll go with you,” Sasha said, clapping his hands. “Viv’s worried. I should have brought him back with me to begin with. If he’s sick or injured, she can help. She’s done it before, remember?”
Zev looked down—and Sasha swore silently as he realized Zev maybe still felt guilty about people getting hurt on his behalf. “Hey, don’t worry about it. We’re all glad you showed us what a creep Evgen was. And we miss ya, but you’re happy here with your man, yeah?”
“Yes,” Zev said. His chin went up. “But I’m going to help you find Micah.”
Sasha gave an easy shrug. “We all three going, then?”
Dragan squinted. “No. My mate knows Micah and his scent, and Micah trusts him. I make him nervous.”
