The golden carriages kicked up dust as townsfolk rushed to the streets, packing every window and stoop. They waved their handkerchiefs at the two coaches, craning their necks, trying to get a peek at the crown prince. The villagers didn’t know why he was there, but I did, and it made my heart leap into my throat with excitement. I knew tomorrow I’d be leaving town in one of those gilded carriages back to his castle.
A rook cawed above me, iridescent wings shimmering as it landed on a maple branch. I scowled at the midnight bird—a bad omen. Sawyn’s army of cloaked guards brandished the same moniker. And now, whenever I saw them, my stomach turned sour, sobering me from the thrill of the encroaching carriages.
With a frown toward the rook, I leapt from my trusty perch. I didn’t need any bad omens today of all days. My gut lurched as the wind rushed around me and I landed in a crouch. I did a quick scan of the clearing, though I knew no humans were nearby. Their scent would’ve carried easily through the dry summer forest.
I peered back at the maple tree, but the rook had disappeared into the dense foliage. I tucked my amber necklace back under my neckline and dusted the leaves off my threadbare dress. Sticks snapped under my bare feet as I darted downhill. My dress snagged on a thicket of thorns and I pulled it free, grimacing at the sound of fabric tearing. Vellia would have to mend it again. I hated dresses, but Vellia insisted I wear them when I ventured from the cabin, as wearing tunics and breeches would only draw more attention.
As if I wasn’t stared at anyway, being one of the two strange girls who lived in the wood.
I shielded my eyes from the glinting sun as I ran—not from the rook, though it still had me a bit spooked, especially with who was coming, but toward the road. My bare toes clung to the rough bark of a fallen tree as I crossed the narrow creek, rushing toward the royal procession. In one of those carriages was Graemon Claudius, the crown prince to the Silver Wolf kingdom of Damrienn. My friend had returned at last.
My heart drummed in my ears. I wondered if he looked the same. We’d still been pups the last time I saw him, only thirteen years old. Full moons were the only time his father, King Nero, permitted him to visit us here, and only ever as a Wolf—it was too risky any other way. For if anyone discovered a Gold Wolf in this village, the news would surely spread to Sawyn . . .
I glanced up again, to see if I could spy a rook spying back on me.
When no birds caught my eye, I cleared the forest with a swift leap. My bare feet slapped against the dusty cobbles as I raced toward the throng of well-wishers. It was with a sense of mischievous contentment that I knew I would be watching the world through their human eyes one last time, pretending to be just another among them. My lungs panted sweet air as I pushed my legs faster. I rushed past broken carts and bags of spoiled grain, my hair whipping behind me as I steered toward the main road.
I skirted down a shortcut and heard the crowd roar. I turned my head toward the sound, not watching up ahead, and slammed into an unyielding object. My feet slid out from under me as I bounced off what I realized was a cloaked figure. Arms wheeling, I braced myself for the hard thump onto the stone when two powerful hands grabbed me midair and hoisted me back to my feet.
“Apologies,” I blurted out, even as I scrambled for the paring knife in
my dress pocket. Vellia wouldn’t let me bring my dagger, but I could justify a paring knife for foraging.
The figure chuckled—a deep, throaty laugh that made me still my hand.
“Hello, little fox.”
The familiar rasp of his low voice made my eyes go wide. My stomach somersaulted at the sound of my nickname. Brushing the curls off my face, I narrowed my eyes, peering into the darkness of his hood. Only one person ever called me that name—and that person I hadn’t seen in seven years.
Someone who should be in one of those carriages instead of standing before me.
“Grae?” I dropped my hand from my knife’s handle.
He pulled back his hood, and the sight of him rattled me more than colliding headlong into him had. This was not the boy I had known. No, this was not a boy at all. I’d never seen a more stunning man. He had classic Damrienn features—obsidian hair pulled to a small knot at the crown of his head, golden brown skin, and hooded umber eyes. But he was also twice my size, towering over me, the peak of shoulder muscles from his neckline denoting a warrior’s physique. He was gorgeous, and yet still wolflike even in his human form, with glinting canines and a hardened jaw. His angular cheeks dimpled as he smirked down at me.
“Wh-what are you doing out here?” I asked, scanning the vacant backstreets.
“We’re visiting, of course.”
“I mean what are you doing here, in this alley?” I said.
His grin widened. “I wanted to see the village where you grew up without being noticed.” His voice was an octave lower than since last I’d heard it. “Maybe a bit too unnoticeable, seeing as you ran straight into me.”
That voice. Gods, help me. His Wolf voice had spoken into my mind during his visits, but we had been thirteen then. Hearing it now was . . . distracting.
“Briar and Vellia are waiting at the cabin for you,” I whispered. It was all I could think to say as my gaze hooked on his face, dumbstruck.
How was it possible this is what Grae looked like?
His dark eyes twinkled, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. “Walk with me?”
My lips parted, and I followed him down the alley and onto the wider back road. Cheers and whistles bounced off the stone as we walked across the worn cobbles. My heartbeat thrummed in my ears. He was really here.
I cleared my throat. “How did you know it was me?”
Grae’s cloak flapped behind him as he peeked at me. Every time those red-brown eyes landed on me, it felt like the ground gave way.
“Your hair.”
“My hair?” I snorted, grabbing a brown ringlet and pulling it straight. “I don’t have curly hair in my other form.”
Immediately my eyes darted to the curtained windows and closed doors. No one was around to hear me, but I still said other instead of Wolf. Sawyn would pay handsomely for the last Gold Wolves’ location, and no matter how pretty the man next to me was, I was always on guard. We had kept our secret these many years through dogged vigilance, not even whispering the word “Wolf,” and that wasn’t about to change.
“Not the texture of your hair.” Grae chuckled, the sound making my toes curl against the rough stones. “The scent of your hair.”
“My scent?” Most humans smelled the same to me, like rising bread and tilled earth, but each Wolf had their own scent, like a fingerprint special only to them.
And he remembered mine.
Grae took a deep, slow breath, making me blush. His nostrils flared as he seemingly tasted the air and let it out again. “Like lilies in summer sunshine and a hint of spice . . . cinnamon perhaps?” He murmured each word as if savoring it.
Pinpricks covered my lips up to my ears, and I knew the creeping blush had probably turned my cheeks bright red.
Yes, he knew me—and I knew Grae’s scent, too. He’d always smelled like . . . damp earth and woodsmoke—a bonfire after a rainstorm. Powerful and elemental, disparate yet whole. The echoes of his essence flooded back to me, along with all those childhood memories. I still heard our laughter, that giddy glee of chasing each other through the nighttime forest. And when we were tired from our runs, we’d sit by the river and he’d tell me stories from every corner of the realm.
Closing my eyes, I breathed deep through my nose. As a Wolf, I could smell the pies cooling in open windows, the fresh hay being carted off to the town stables, and the wildflowers in the meadow beyond. I imagined the wind in my hair was blowing through my golden red fur instead as I realized that with Grae here, it possibly meant the end to our hiding, and my Wolf could finally be free. That thought made me giddy, and I hoped the forests in the capital would be larger. In Allesdale, I had to run in circles to run at all. The eastern wood surrounding our little cottage took only ten minutes to cross on all four paws. I’d learned every fallen log and muddy creek by heart and was beginning to feel like the dogs kept tied up outside the butchers.
After today, though, I’d no longer feel trapped.
Grae tipped his chin toward my bare feet, and his cheeks dimpled. “Your feet must be as tough as your paws.” His laugh had changed since we were young. Now it was a rolling thunder that emerged from his chest only to be felt deep in my own.
I checked over my shoulder again to see if anyone had heard him, but the streets were empty. Soon the carriages would roll out the other end of town, and people would return to work, but for now they were entranced by the spectacle.
“You should be more careful,” I muttered, instantly regretting that I had just rebuked the crown prince. I mean, I was royalty, too . . . but if Briar were here, she’d scold me for my lack of decorum. Grae was not the playful pup chasing bunnies in the eastern wood anymore.
“When we get to Highwick, you’ll never again have to whisper about what you are,” he promised. The sincerity in his voice made me press my lips together. “You can be proud to be a Wolf.” He lifted his chin up to the Moon Goddess. “You can be exactly as you are, little fox.”
I huffed. Exactly as I am? That wasn’t saying much. Briar was “the Crimson Princess,” with her ruby red hair and long, lithe frame. The Moon Goddess designed her perfectly for royal life. Me . . . I was Briar’s opposite in every way, the other side of the same coin. No one would ever guess that we were twins. Only a handful of people even knew who I was—Grae and his father being two of them. I was a whole head shorter than Briar and twice her size, with rounded curves that belied the muscles I’d spent years of combat training honing. Even in my Gold Wolf form, I was lacking compared to my twin—small and scruffy next to her, with a hue of rust to my golden fur. It was why Grae called me little fox . . . and it was also why his promises that I could be myself felt nothing but deflating.
The words spilled from my mouth before I could stop them. “Who I am is no one.”
Grae’s footsteps faltered at my muttered confession. He sidestepped me so quickly I almost walked straight into him . . . again. Blocking my path, he spun to face me. His stare felt like a weight pressing down on me. His calloused pointer finger touched the tip of my chin, lifting until my eyes met his dark ones. Holding his gaze felt thrilling and familiar all at once.
“You will have a home in Highwick, too, little fox.” His breath brushed my cheek. “You will stand on the dais as the royalty you are once your sister and I are married. There will never be any mistaking that you are truly someone.”
My racing heart plummeted into my gut. Not at the promise, but at the reason why he could make such a promise:
Once your sister and I are married.
That was why he was here. On the full moon, it would be our twentieth birthday, and they would finally fulfill the marriage that had been arranged since before our births. The Crimson Princess would marry the Silver Wolf of Damrienn for the good of the pack.
Shame burned inside of me at my bitterness. Neither of us were children anymore, though I still preferred climbing trees to rouging my cheeks. I knew we all had a role to play. I reminded myself of Vellia’s words, the ones she told me and my sister over
and over again. That the fate of our kingdom depended on this marriage and the money and soldiers that came with it. With the might of the Damrienn army, we could reclaim the fallen Gold Wolf kingdom. This was how daughters of kings gained power—through marriages and alliances. Briar would rally support through tea parties and balls, and, as her guard, I’d muster it with my sword. I was definitely getting the better end of the deal, training in secret to be a killer instead of a dainty, poised princess.
It was the whole reason we had hidden ourselves in this quiet village.
The realization still hit me like a blow, however.
As if on cue, a rook cawed overhead, taunting me, and I pressed on. Grae fell into stride beside me.
“I’d still prefer we don’t discuss these things until we are in Highwick,” I muttered.
Grae chuckled. “As you wish, little fox.”
Little fox. He kept saying it, and it kept sounding different now, even though it was the only nickname I’d ever had. Briar wouldn’t even appreciate how good it felt to be noticed by someone like Grae. I clenched my fists as we walked, knowing I should focus more on the coming battles than on the handsome prince beside me. The pack was more important than my desires.
I looked around to distract myself. The streets began filling with people as the royal carriages wheeled out of Allesdale. Only Grae and I knew they wouldn’t be rolling into the next town, but veering off toward Vellia’s cabin in the woods. Grae and his guards would stay the night, and we’d leave at first light for our long journey back to the capital.
Grae pulled his hood up again, hiding his visage in shadow as I scanned the dreary stone buildings. I wouldn’t miss this drab little town. The haggard faces of villagers watched us as we climbed the hill. The townsfolk had always been wary of Vellia, and Briar and I by association. An old lady living alone in the woods garnered rumors she was a sorceress. Little did they know, Vellia was indeed magical, but she was no witch.
The road inclined, steeper with each step. I welcomed the pleasant burn of my muscles as I hastened to keep up with Grae’s long legs. I savored this last moment together, just the two of us. I peeked at him, unable to see his eyes from the shadows of his hood, but somehow knowing he looked back at me. Despite all my eagerness to leave, I would miss this—two friends without titles or grand destinies. That daydream would end as soon as we reached the hidden cabin in the woods where his betrothed waited.
We hurried along, yet all I wanted to do was linger. I couldn’t do that, though. Not to Grae. Not to Briar.
All things must come to an end—even if it’s just a walk through the woods.
The dense canopy high above us cast cool shadows down the forest trail. My fingers brushed over the moss dripping from the trees as we fell into easy conversation. We crunched through the leaves, following the thin rivulets the carriage wheels carved down the path. Grae told me the latest news from Damrienn. Drought had hit the farms over the summer and his father was even more surly than usual, but the city had the upcoming wedding to buoy their spirits. News had apparently spread like wildfire that the Crimson Princess was not only alive but also about to marry their crown prince.
Rumors had swirled for years that the last of the Gold Wolf line yet lived, that the Marriel princess named Briar had survived the fateful night of her birth . . . but no one whispered about another named Calla. The world had searched for my twin sister these twenty long years, but I remained a shadow behind the dream of the Crimson Princess. After two decades, we would finally be able to reveal our secret: not one Marriel survived that night, but two.
Not that I thought the world would care all that much—they’d still focus everything on Briar, as they should. I was very content to let her bear all the scrutiny of court life while I watched—and plotted—from the shadows.
Grae reached out and hooked his finger along the chain of my necklace. He pulled until the amber stone lifted above my neckline and smiled. “You still wear it.”
“Of course I do,” I said, my skin tingling where his knuckle grazed my collarbone. “When a prince gives you a protection stone, you wear it.”
His cheeks dimpled. “Does Briar still wear hers?”
“Yes.”
“Liar.” He chuckled, snapping a budding white flower off a low branch and passing it to me. “I can smell the lie on you as easily as I smell the perfume in the trees.”
I scanned through the summer forest, resplendent with flowers. The woods surrounding our cabin were filled with as many memories as the cabin itself. Every full moon of our youth, Briar and I would prowl into the dark forest, hoping Grae would appear. That was seven years ago . . . I still had his last correspondence in my dresser drawer. Along with his letters came two necklaces—a ruby for Briar and an amber for me. I had wondered if Grae had selected the stones for the shades of our hair every time I had read my now-crinkled letter. Briar’s letter was two pages long, but mine was only a brief paragraph:
I toyed with my delicate amber pendant along its thin gold chain. How could he think I would forget him? He was my first and only friend I hadn’t shared a womb with. Seven years since I’d seen him or heard his tales of magic and monsters. Seven years since we’d chased each other through the forests or shared our hopes for the future. It had hurt more than I’d liked to admit that no more letters came . . .
The summer’s swollen moon, hidden in the clear blue sky, pulled on me. Soon it would be full, and the urge to transform would overwhelm me once more. Most of the time I could control it, but the days leading up to the full moon set every Wolf on edge . . . and that was before my current rarefied state.
“Do you remember
the story of the necklace?”
I swirled the stem of the flower in my hands. The cloying, sweet aroma wafted around us as we ambled through the woods. “It was your great-grandmother’s dying wish that her children be protected from harm. A family heirloom now.” As I remembered his recent tragedy, I rested a hand on Grae’s forearm, the feeling making my whole body buzz as I said, “I heard about your mother’s passing. I’m so sorry.”
“It was many years ago.” His eyes scanned my face before he stepped out of my touch.
My heart ached at that little movement. I knew it meant he didn’t want to talk about his mother. The baker had told me that Queen Lucrecia had died a week after our necklaces arrived. I’d wanted to flee to Highwick and find Grae the second I’d heard, and probably would have if Briar hadn’t hugged me so close, whispering soothing words into my ears. I was devastated for him.
“Do you remember any of my other faery stories?” Grae asked, changing the subject.
“All of them,” I murmured. I cleared my throat as his cheeks dimpled. “The cleaved peak, the ever-sailing ship, the gold mines of Sevelde . . . of juvlecks and ostekkes and other monsters that even the myths and songs seem to have forgotten.”
Of course I remembered them all. I had pestered him to tell them over and over, always begging for another story. And, in the long years since I last saw him, I repeated them in my mind, imagining the sound of his voice.
I tucked the white flower behind my ear. “What do you remember of your visits here?”
He sighed, closing his eyes. “Games of chase, the sound of your laughter in my mind.” His grin widened. “And your many secret words.”
“Code words,” I corrected. “In case we need to flee.”
“I think shouting ‘run’ would be just as effective.” He chuckled, clasping his hands behind his back and slowing to a creeping pace. Maybe he didn’t want this moment to end as much as me.
“I don’t think shouting ‘run’ is particularly stealthy.” I teased, tapping my forefinger to my chin in mock contemplation. “Our current one is ‘quiver,’ by the way.”
He barked out a laugh. “How would one stealthily work the word ‘quiver’ into a sentence without being detected?”
“I’m sure we’ll come up with something.” I winked at him, and he nearly walked smack into a sapling, dodging it at the last moment. This was the playful Wolf I remembered.
Grae pulled up short, staring at the spot where the trail ended in dense forest. “Where’s the cabin?”
With a laugh, I pointed
to a thin seam of warped air. The image of the forest bent as if looking through steam on a hot day. “For all the faery stories you tell, you haven’t seen a glamour before?”
Quirking his brow, Grae reached out and touched the bending air. His mouth dropped open as his fingertips disappeared.
I snickered and looped my arm through his; the contact making my cheeks burn as I tried to hide it with bravado. “Come on,” I said, tugging him through the glamoured air. “Vellia will delight you with her magic once we’re inside.”
Stepping through the seam, cool air rushed over my skin and the cabin appeared. What was once an empty forest was now a sprawling acreage, complete with gardens and stables. Two golden carriages parked in front of the house, the horses already unhitched and grazing in the grassy gardens beyond our home. I dropped my hold on Grae’s arm, flustered at that buzzing contact between us, and clenched my hands by my sides.
I really needed to stop touching him.
Grae’s eyebrows shot up. “This is the cabin?”
Vellia built the three-story house from giant redwood trunks. Garlands of wooden beads hung from the rose-colored shutters, vivid summer flowers filled the window boxes, and a bright blue door greeted us. A faery clearly designed the home.
“Do you like it?”
“All these years running in the woods together, I’d imagined you were returning to a one-bedroom hovel,” Grae jeered. “I should’ve known better.” Shaking his head, he followed me up the steps to the front door.
“Did you want us to live in a dilapidated shack?” I teased.
“No, no—of course not. It’s just . . . this,” he said, gesturing at the house.
“Dying wishes make for powerful magic.” Before he could reply to that—and before my fingers could reach the handle—the door opened.
Vellia stood in a sage green dress that made her pale gray eyes seem to glow. A matching scarf wrapped around her silver hair, fluttering as she dropped into a low curtsy. “Welcome, Your Highness.”
“Thank you for receiving me,” Grae said in a princely tone that sounded so different from the easy one that had just flowed between us.
Vellia took another step backward, opening the door with a flourish to grant him entry. She gave me a wink. This day was a victory for Vellia. Upon my mother’s deathbed, Vellia granted her dying wish: protect my daughter until her wedding day. The power of that wish had filled Vellia with immense amounts of magic. I always wondered if my mother would have changed her wish if she had known I was about to arrive a moment later. The elderly faery seemed to think so, and so Vellia had protected Briar and me both with a ferocity that would make any mother Wolf proud.
The cabin ceiling rose high above us as we spilled into the grand entryway. A towering gray stone fireplace bisected the room. Boughs of evergreen covered rough beams of wood, and an antler chandelier flickered with hundreds of magically lit candles. A circle of guards stood beside the fireplace. They all had the same thick black Damrienn hair, angular faces, and light golden-brown skin. Wearing thin plates of silver armor, their hands rested on the hilts of their swords as they laughed, listening to a joke from the elegant woman in the center of their circle.
Briar.
She wore a dusty rose dress, covered in delicate lace that billowed around her willowy frame. She probably had Vellia conjure it for her this morning. Her red hair was braided back at the temples with wispy white flowers circling her head like a crown. She flashed the soldiers a broad smile, drawing attention with ease—born to be in the center of any circle.
Spotting Grae over her shoulder, she sauntered over. Her hair swished in rhythm with her hips. She dropped into a bow and murmured, “Your Highness.”
“Your Highness,” Grae said in return, inclining his head to her.
I blanched, realizing I hadn’t addressed him by his title. Maybe I would’ve remembered to bow if I hadn’t run smack into him.
“I trust the journey from Highwick was not too harrowing?” Briar already spoke with the grace of a queen holding court.
“Not at all.” Grae played along with her courtly act. “It’s an easy day’s journey, and the countryside is lovely.”
Briar demurred, lifting her lashes to look up at him. She barely had to incline her neck, the top of her head reaching his eyes. She would look perfect standing beside him. My lips thinned as I hid my frown. It was such a waste. Briar knew she would never love him—had said as much to me in secret moments. But love had nothing to do with royal marriages. Love was for humans. If Briar had been born a boy, she could’ve avoided all this peacocking and laid claim to Olmdere herself. Sometimes I wished I could’ve been born a boy for all the ease and permission it would’ve granted me. Sometimes I wished I didn’t have to play a role in order to be valued. But this was how Wolf bloodlines stayed strong and how the four kingdoms maintained their peace. Ruling a pack meant sacrifice, and we all had a part to play.
They held each other’s gazes for a moment longer before Briar said, “I can show you all to your rooms. You’ll probably want to wash up before dinner.”
A strand of black hair fell around Grae’s face as he nodded, and I had the terrible urge to brush it behind his ear. I balled my hands into fists until my fingernails cut into my palms.
“Thank you.” Yet he didn’t look at her; instead Grae’s eyes found mine, and he gave me a half-smile.
Briar led them up the winding steps to the upper balcony. I watched them disappear around the corner, only to realize Vellia was still standing beside me. Her eyes crinkled with knowing mischief.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “What?”
“Nothing.” Vellia shrugged, drumming her fingers on her cheek. “This day has been a long time coming for us all.” The clink of the knights’ armor rang down the hall. Vellia looked me up and down. “What do you want to wear for dinner? A periwinkle blue to match your sister’s rose?”
Wear? What did she mean? Then I frowned at my crumpled brown dress, touching the fresh tear from the thicket. It was perfect for the village, plain and unremarkable. I huffed, as if what I wore now mattered. I could traipse through Allesdale in a ballgown and, if Briar were by my side, no one would notice me.
“I’d rather dress like the knights,” I said. “A tunic and leathers, nothing too fancy—”
“Nothing too fancy?” Vellia tutted, rolling her eyes. “You are dining with the crown prince of Damrienn tonight.”
“And I am a royal of Olmdere.”
“Then act like it,” she snapped.
“I’m not meant to be noticed.” I scowled. “The guards don’t even know who I am.”
We would keep the secret of my parentage until the King of Damrienn decided otherwise. In his letters, he had promised once Briar married Grae he’d reveal the truth . . . until then, I was to remain a secret. Their wedding fulfilled a contract forged before our birth, and the future of Olmdere hinged upon it. Our position was too precarious to argue, and this could put that all in jeopardy.
That’s what I was telling myself, at least.
“It’s Briar who must dress like a queen,” I said.
Vellia tugged on the lobe of my ear. “As you noted, you are a Marriel, too, Calla.”
“But I’m fine with being a shadow.” I’d decided long ago to make the most of my obscurity. If I couldn’t be a queen, then I’d be a warrior. We needed both roles to regain our homeland, and it suited me more anyway. “It will be much easier to sneak up on Sawyn that way. I will be there when they avenge my parents . . . and I won’t be wearing a fancy dress.”
It was something I had learned from my endless hours of training. I would never win from brute strength, but from cunning and surprise. I gripped the knife in my pocket, imagining dragging it across the sorceress’s throat. It was my own ancestors who’d rid the world of monsters and sorcerers—the promise we made to the humans who placed crowns upon Wolves’ heads. I would carry on that legacy, defeating dark magic
once more.
Vellia released a long-suffering sigh. She was a faery who lived to dote on us, and I made it rather tough. Fluttering her fingers at the stairwell, she shooed me away. “Go bathe, at least. Your outfit will be waiting.”
White magic sparked from her fingers, floating up toward the high ceiling, and I knew a hot bath waited for me.
I was one foot up the stairs when Vellia’s voice called after me.
“It will be all right, you know, Calla.”
Her reassurance was anything but comforting. I had never been fearful of something so mediocre as “all right”—I had a kingdom to resurrect and parents to avenge. My sister would marry and make allies and sign treaties, and I would be the nameless Wolf who won back our throne. ...
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