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Synopsis
From the bestselling author of The High Mountain Court A.K. Mulford comes the second enchanting book in the all-new Golden Court romantasy trilogy—A Sky of Emerald Stars continues wolf-shifter Calla’s journey and explores a new story—Sadie’s—as kingdoms clash with war on the horizon and pack politics threatens to disrupt what Calla and Grae have built, both for themselves, and Aotreas.
A secret song. A hidden fortress. A world on the brink of war.
After the long, despotic reign under the evil sorceress, Sawyn, life in the Golden Court is finally rebuilding. New leadership means new beginnings, and Sadie Rauxtide—now a royal guard—has been grappling with how she’ll fit into her new home. But when a rival Wolf king, Nero, kidnaps the Queen’s friend and mentor Ora, any hopes for peace are lost.
The Golden Court springs into action, and Sadie is tasked with an important mission: travel with Navin and Maez to try to win new allies and uncover Nero’s hidden secrets. Yet Navin has secrets of his own, and it’s all Sadie can do to focus on her attachment to him and her loathing for what she discovers inside the man she loves. She has a mission, but the heart wants what it wants. And fate? Fate has its own magic, and it’s one more thing out of her control.
Meanwhile, Queen Calla is forced to seek help from the Ice Wolf pack in order to stop Nero’s prejudicial rule. However, the Queen of Taigos makes Calla’s objectives impossible with their capricious relationship standing in the way—completely unwilling to commit in helping Calla rescue Ora and repeatedly dismissing Calla’s new gender identity. With no true allyship from Taigos Court, Calla battles between diplomacy and being their true self as they realize coming out is only the beginning of their journey of self-discovery.
Tensions rise on both fronts as Sadie and Calla struggle to gain support for the brewing war and realize that the world of Aotreas is more than it seems. Full of high-stakes adventures, self-discovery, and love in all forms, A Sky of Emerald Stars follows the beginning of a revolution and the relentless fight for peace.
Release date: December 24, 2024
Publisher: HarperCollins
Print pages: 368
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A Sky of Emerald Stars
AK Mulford
Golden leaves danced past the window of the little cottage. Olmdere seemed to hang in a state of perpetual autumn. In Highwick, it would still be summer, and—though I wouldn’t admit it to anyone—I missed the bloom of flowers, the scent of silver stones baking in the sunshine, the iced drinks and bounty of summer fruits, all while lazing in the shade of the forest and swimming in the streams. It was a brutal place sometimes, but not all of it had been evil. Not all of my childhood as a high-ranked member of the Silver Wolf pack had been bad. But everything I’d known—evil or not—had been ripped away from me now, and I was sure I’d never go back.
It felt like I was falling through midair and the ground never rose to meet me. I didn’t belong to my former pack anymore. And as horrible as that was, even worse was the thought that I didn’t feel like I belonged here, either.
“So you’ve decided on sulking forever then?” Maez asked through a mouthful of lentil stew.
“I’m not sulking,” I muttered in a voice that would be definitively classified as “sulky.”
Briar pulled a skillet of corn bread from the fire and placed it on the stone windowsill to cool. “You’re avoiding my twin, Sadie,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at me. “And your Queen.”
“Your twin and my Queen are one and the same,” I said bitterly. “Stop being so dramatic.”
I assessed Briar’s red hair braided back off her face, her bright blue eyes, and long lean frame. She didn’t look much like her twin, Calla, now the Queen of the Golden Court. Now my Queen, too, as everyone seemed to feel the need to remind me.
It still felt odd. I thought I’d be a member of the Silver Wolf pack for the rest of my life. I was one of the royal guards—the elite. I was meant to live and die protecting the Silver Wolf throne . . . and I had accepted that.
Now, I wasn’t a member of any pack at all, but rather a court, one comprised of both human and Wolf. It was a good change, and yet it still left me reeling. Was it possible to miss something even if it was wrong?
Everything felt tight as a bowstring. Every day we waited for King Nero to attack and the war he promised to begin in earnest, but there was nothing but silence from the Damrienn border.
When a Wolf is silent, that means it’s hunting.
So we all idled by in a tension-filled routine. Planning. Waiting. Rebuilding.
Briar cleared her throat, and I spotted the silent conversation whizzing between her and Maez. Her eyes widened as she jutted her chin in my direction and mouthed something I couldn’t quite make out.
“If I’m ruining your mating bliss, just say so,” I grumbled, pushing to a stand.
Maez shot to her feet across from me. “Sit,” she commanded as if I was still a puppy. She picked up her spoon again and resumed eating. “I know you came here for more than my mate’s famous corn bread. Talk.”
I sighed, lifting a hand to rub across my face and then thinking better of it in case I got spice in my eyes. Then these two would think I was crying and that’s the last thing I fucking needed. I wasn’t a Wolf who got her heart broken by anyone—let alone a human. I was a warrior and now one of Queen Marriel’s official guards . . . well, I would be if I spent any time at the castle actually performing my duties instead of drinking every Olmderian tavern dry, definitely not thinking about a human.
My hair and clothes still reeked of ale from the night spent at the tavern . . . several nights, weeks even, if I was being honest. I’d spent the rest of my time since Sawyn’s death at Maez and Briar’s cottage, not because I particularly liked cottages or the puppy eyes they constantly made at each other, but because the palace reminded me of the battle and a certain tall musician who occupied even more of my dark thoughts than the pack I’d lost.
“You can’t avoid the castle forever,” Maez said, already knowing my line of thought.
“I know it’s become a sore spot between me and Calla,” I muttered. “It’s just been . . . a lot.”
“Does she know that?” Briar asked pointedly, tossing a dish towel over her shoulder and untying her apron. She was the picture of rural bliss, looking even more regal in this little cottage than she did in a castle. More, she looked happy.
“Maybe it’s a one-sided sore spot,” I muttered, pulling out the knife from my thigh belt and flicking it back and forth.
Maez’s hand shot out and covered my own, pinning my wrist to the table and ceasing my knife fidgeting. “Look,” she said. “We all think Navin is a piece of shit.”
“Mm-hmm,” Briar agreed as she sauntered over with a pitcher of lemonade.
“But,” Maez continued. “He’s a piece of shit that you’re going to have to get over without stabbing someone . . . or my mate’s carefully selected new table.”
I yanked my wrist away and sheathed my knife, knowing I was moping and hating myself for it. “Nothing ever even happened between us,” I said tightly. “A few chaste kisses and nothing more. I’m acting like such a bloody fool and I hate it, but I can’t settle into this life here. Everything about it chafes. I just . . . I don’t know.”
“A human would’ve never satisfied you,” Maez continued. “You would’ve dropped him like day-old bread after one roll in the sheets. You like the tough ones, Sads—a human who wears daisies embroidered on his lapel is never going to work out.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” I blew my bangs out of my eyes from the corner of my mouth. I really needed to trim them but couldn’t summon the fucks to give to do so. “There weren’t exactly a lot of places for us to sneak off to on a moving wagon, and the one night I thought we’d have together we got captured by Silver Wolves . . . and then his face got smashed in.” The memory of that horror flooded through me, and I was once again reminded that Navin was not as strong as the Wolves. I shoved up from the table into a stand, feeling a little more in control. “You’re right.” I said it with more confidence this time. “He and I were a bad idea from the start. There’s no way we could’ve lasted.” My shoulders shook with bitter laughter. “He was never strong enough for me.”
“Yes,” Briar said as Maez slapped the table and shouted, “Damn straight.” I thanked the sweet moon for my friends and their unerring—if not overzealous—support.
Their words were finally sticking. Navin was a sad little human who chose to protect his Rook brother over me in battle. Of course he’d chosen his own kind, just like I would choose mine now.
Yep, I absolutely believe all of that.
“Thank you.” I whirled with newfound bravado, reaching for the door.
“Anytime,” Briar said, and Maez added, “Well, not anytime. Maybe let’s plan a time for you to drop by next—Ow!” Without looking, I knew Briar had smacked her by the sound. I wondered how many intimate moments I’d interrupted over the last few months.
As I opened the door, I found my brother, Hector, with his fist raised, poised to knock. Looks like I wasn’t the only one interrupting the newly reunited mates.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Hector shook his head at my attire, a constant disapproving frown on his face. He wore his new royal armor: black battle leathers with plated gold accents. He looked both royal and lethal, a deadly combination of elegance and strength. I, however, was out of uniform, favoring plain brown trousers and a tunic that came down to mid-thigh that hid the plethora of weapons I wore underneath.
“The Queen has summoned you,” he said sharply in that scolding brotherly voice he used whenever I’d pissed him off. Why did my only sibling and I both have to take up the family business of fighting for a living? Why couldn’t he have been a baker or something?
“Great,” I muttered, shooting over my shoulder to Briar and Maez, “I’m being summoned.”
“Yes—queens can do that,” Hector said.
“Oof,” Maez said.
“Good luck,” Briar added.
I couldn’t dance around it anymore. Calla would make me face them. They’d probably strip me of my title and kick me out. I had been ignoring my responsibilities to Calla for long enough, losing myself in taverns and gambling halls, trying to forget all the ways I’d betrayed myself. Maybe this was a good thing, then. Be done with the farce and focus on getting really, truly, stupidly drunk.
Hector stepped to the side to let me pass. I skirted around him, not wanting to look him in the eyes. His very presence felt like one giant “I told you so,” and I didn’t need him gloating over the pain in my chest that I refused to name.
I stormed off down the cottage path, lined with autumnal flowers in burgundies and marigolds that Briar had so carefully curated like she was a whimsical fucking faery. I fought the urge to stomp through the beds like the grumpy storm cloud I was. Time to face the consequences of my actions. Time for the punishment I’d been waiting on this last month as I frittered away my coins on a mission to find the bottom of every bottle of Olmderian wine. Time to lose this newfound family I’d done nothing to deserve.
With Hector at my back like my own bloody executioner, I made my way back through the forest and toward the city, dreaming of slitting Navin’s throat for making me feel this way . . . and then slitting my own for having such a thought.
I tried to waylay Hector with the promise of drinks on me at his favorite local tavern of choice, but he was having none of it. My big brother marched me through the forest on the outskirts of Olmdere City, and I walked tethered to him like a horse with an invisible lead rope.
His silence was practically saying, At least one of us can honor our duties.
I could not let such a lack of statement go unchallenged. “So how’s your human?” I muttered, storming through the deep leaves with an ever-quickening pace.
“She’s not my anything,” Hector said tightly. “Not yet at least.”
“But you want her to be,” I prodded with the deft ability of a sibling who knew exactly how to get under her brother’s skin. “You’ve grown close since her sister’s passing.”
Mina had stayed behind when Galen den’ Mora rolled out of Olmdere, both to grieve the death of her twin, Malou, and to help Calla with the reconstruction. She now sat on the queen’s council and advised Calla on all sorts of issues. I’d been too busy with my own pursuits to notice my brother’s closeness to her before. But since her sister died at the hands of Sawyn, Hector, of all people, seemed to be there the most to pick up the pieces.
“Bringing up her sister’s passing is low even for you,” Hector said. “You act as if I’m only comforting her to gain something.”
“Aren’t you?”
Hector grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around. “First off, screw you for ever thinking that of me. Second, enough of this, Sadie,” he growled, a hint of his Wolf coming out as he spoke. Two humans walking down the forest path in the other direction gave us a wide berth. “You’ve always been a bitch, but now you’re just downright cruel.”
“Keep pursuing her, and you’ll find I’m relatively mild in comparison to what you’ll get from others,” I said, instinctively grabbing one of the knives from my thigh belt and flicking it back and forth. Sweet Moon, I wished I could stab it into someone right now, preferably a tall bronze-eyed musician.
“I’m not a sk—” He caught himself before he said it, but we both knew the words about to tumble out of his mouth: “skin chaser.”
It was an insult slung at Wolves who cavorted with humans. Now, as members of a Wolf-human court instead of a pack, those words didn’t apply here, and yet I still couldn’t shake them. Whether I wanted it or not, the shadow of everything I was raised to believe loomed over me. Losing those beliefs wasn’t as easy as shedding a too-tight coat. Layer upon layer and I still found myself wincing at the insult skin chaser.
I certainly didn’t want my brother to have to go through that, too.
Still, I couldn’t just say that to him—I was a bitch, after all. So I pulled out of Hector’s grip and kept walking, hating how he and I both still acted more like Silver Wolves than Golden Courtiers. “No talking about your human,” I said more to myself than my brother. “Touchy subject. Got it. Not that it will matter after Calla banishes me for ignoring my duties.”
“Look.” Hector cut in front of me again. “I know this has been hard. All of it. But I’m here, for what it’s worth, and I will always have your back.”
“Aw, don’t,” I said, giving him a smack on the shoulder and clearing my throat. “Rauxtides don’t do feelings.”
He chuckled. “True.”
We wound our way through the forest as views of Olmdere City peeked through the autumnal foliage. A long row of white boats sat nestled on the eastern shores of the lake for the night. Only two punters were still working, sitting on the bow of one boat playing cards. During the day, the boats ferried people all around the city: to the northern end with rolling gardens and cottages, the eastern quarter with its theaters and restaurants, the southern streets that were packed with workshops and trade stalls, and the western markets where you could buy just about anything your heart desired.
Despite my prickly state, I still appreciated the capital of the Golden Court every time I walked through it: the gold-flecked red stones, the towering domed architecture, the old dusty bricks, and the sound of the river rushing through the city never too far away.
My neck craned further as the castle rose above the last stretch of woodland between us and the city. The striking gold-flecked stone that comprised most of the city was also used in the castle construction, but with much more gold embellishments and detailing. It was clear the Gold Wolves of old were as rich as thieves, having made good use of the gold mines of Sevelde—much to the humans’ peril. But that was part of what Calla was trying to change. Tearing down the castle wasn’t going to change that, though—not that it would be easy to do anything to the castle: the stones were expertly cut and arranged, forming intricate patterns that caught the light and seemed to glow more in the fading sun.
“Do you think the sight will ever stop filling us with awe?” Hector asked as if he’d heard my thoughts.
The castle of our birthplace, Damrienn, was enormous and formidable, but it was also sharp and cold, nothing like the warmth that seemed to seep from this castle, open and welcoming. Still, part of me yearned for that coldness and for the unquestionable sense of belonging that came with it.
“This, this is our home now, Sadie,” Hector added, and it made my already tight lips curve downward.
“Home,” I echoed. It certainly didn’t feel that way. I had no clue what home was meant to feel like, in fact. Maybe the feeling was just a made-up faery story.
Our family’s townhouse in the city of Damrienn never felt like home, nor did this giant castle, despite Calla’s best efforts to make it feel like ours. Briar and Maez’s cottage felt homey but didn’t feel like mine. Goddess, even that roving wagon had felt more right compared to the intricate adornments of castle life, but that wasn’t it, either. I would have taken a seat in the wagon in a heartbeat rather than be here, though. I was done playing the games of kings and queens. I couldn’t just sit on my hands and politic for the rest of my life. I wanted to move, wanted to roam, wanted to fight.
We plunged back into the forest, taking the last little deer trail toward the boats as the sun set. As if summoned from my thoughts alone, a structure caught my eye. I squinted into the shadows, seeing the arched roof of a giant wagon through the trees, and my heart met my throat. The last thing I wanted was to be anywhere near it. Near him. I would have gladly ignored it, thinking I might have actually conjured it in my mind. Maybe I’d finally lost my mind, and I was about to thank all the wine I’d drank the last month . . .
But then I smelled it.
Hector stiffened beside me. “Blood,” he said, sniffing the air and confirming my fears.
I started running toward the wagon, my mind racing to catch up to my feet. As we darted through the thick undergrowth, a body appeared on the narrow path. His long frame, tattered velvet clothes, and scent like old song sheets and resin . . . With that scent, the memories hit me harder than I’d ever remembered them.
“Navin!” I screamed, darting the last stretch of forest. My knees squelched into the muddy ground as I dropped in front of Navin, all my anger replaced by ice-cold dread. He was so caked in mud and dried blood that I didn’t recognize him at first, only his telltale scent shot through me like a poisoned arrow: Navin. He was here. In Olmdere.
Hurt.
Relief coursed through me as Navin lifted a shaking hand, and I thanked all the Gods that he was alive. I’d hate him later, wish him death again, once I was certain he was alive. I didn’t care about the hypocrisy. Right now, I just needed him to be alive.
Navin’s hands slid under his chest and he tried to push himself to a seated position, but he collapsed back to the forest floor. My eyes scanned over his body, searching for the wound.
“Ora,” Navin panted. “They’re gone. Taken—taken by . . .”
“What?” Hector barked, rushing over to Navin’s other side. “Who? Who took Ora?”
“Wolves,” he groaned.
Hector perked up, alert, looking around. Sniffing. He paused a moment, but then shook his head.
The Wolves were gone.
Not that I cared. “Where are you hurt?” I begged, searching for the slash marks in his clothes, trying to discern where the blood was coming from.
A small wooden instrument that looked like a tapered flute still remained clutched in one of his hands. Navin swayed up onto his knees, his shaking grime-covered hands dropping the flute and reaching out to me. He cupped my cheeks and leaned his forehead against my own, taking a deep breath like a Wolf scenting the air. I hated that my eyes pinpricked with tears, but I couldn’t stop it. Nothing about how I felt about him had ever been in my control. The same relief bracketed his expression before his eyes clenched closed. His body trembled as he whispered, “Sadie,” and collapsed.
I caught Navin’s long torso in my arms, slowing his fall as I teetered over with him.
“We need to get him to a healer,” I barked.
“What does it mean?” Hector asked, frowning down at Navin. “Do you think the Silver Wolves took Ora to retaliate somehow?”
“Hector,” I snapped as I slung one of Navin’s arms over my shoulder. Navin groaned, barely clinging to consciousness. “Help me.”
My brother, seeming to remember himself, burst into action and helped me lift Navin to his feet. “The boats are just through there,” he said. “We’ll take him to Calla.”
“Fucking Moon.” I let out a shaking breath.
Hector kept his gaze focused on the shoreline. The boatman saw us and leapt from the gunnel of his boat to help us get Navin inside. “If the Silver Wolves really took Ora, Calla’s going to start a war to get them back,” Hector muttered.
“Good,” I said. “It’s about damn time.”
I dipped my hand into the turquoise water of the lake, so clear I could see the silt all the way at the bottom. Light filtered in through holes in the cave, making the golden treasure all around me glitter. Little iridescent fish danced around my hands, darting in and out of the craggy rocks below the surface.
I perched on the steps that led into the lake below the palace. Above me, holes in the ceiling tunneled upward to where I knew the dungeons sat. Only the gentle lap of water sounded, and yet I could still hear the screams, still remembered the feeling of biting into the ostekke’s tentacle, still gripped with the feeling that I’d come all this way only to die in the dungeons of my own palace.
I swirled my hand in the water as that day replayed over and over behind my eyes.
I’d killed my aunt . . . and she’d killed me.
Loosening the laces of my tunic, I traced a hand down the golden bolts of lightning bursting from my chest. Vellia’s light magic had stitched me back together, leaving this gilded mark that felt like skin but weighed so heavy on my soul. If I even still had a soul . . .
Dying wishes were made as a trade: a faery’s gift of magic in exchange for them taking one’s soul to its final resting place. Did that mean I was soulless? I’d already made my wish. Would my soul be reaped when I died again or was it already gone?
Everything felt jumbled and restless inside of me. I mourned for Malou and for all those who died trying to bring peace to Olmdere and for all those who suffered for so many years under Sawyn. I needed to make it right for them. I needed to bring this court back from the brink. I needed to make the second chance I was given count for something.
I needed to make it so that all this gold didn’t seem like it was still covered in blood and shadows.
“I thought I’d find you down here,” Grae said, his boots clicking down the steps. He perched beside me and dropped a kiss to my collarbone where the tip of one lightning bolt ended. “It is too early for such contemplation,” he murmured against my skin, smoothing away the tightness in my shoulders.
“I can’t stop thinking . . .”
His warm breath skittered across my neck. “Come back to bed and I’ll help with that.” When I let out a long sigh, he clearly knew my mind was still too far away, mate or no, and he threaded his fingers through my hand and squeezed. “Sawyn is gone, along with her ostekke.”
“How many of them do you think are left in the world?” I mused, lifting my hand from the water and wiping it on my trouser leg.
Grae shrugged. “I don’t think anyone will be volunteering to venture through the lakes of Lower Valta to count them.” He stared out at the treasures mounded upon the shores. Mountains of gold hugged the corners where the palace walls met the lake rock. “I hope not many.”
I let out a soft laugh. “Me too.” I hovered my hand over the lake water again, and Grae did the same with his own free hand. “How quickly this place came back to life without Sawyn’s dark magic.”
“And through the leadership of a certain Gold Wolf,” Grae reminded, squeezing our joined hands.
I pursed my lips, staring down at the little fish darting back and forth. “I don’t—”
“You do,” Grae cut in before I could even get started, already knowing all the doubts in my heart. “Seeds have been sown, villages have been rebuilt, families have been reunited . . .”
“It will be many seasons, if not years, before those crops produce enough to sustain our court,” I said. “Decades before the towns are back to their old populations, generations before those families don’t fear that everyone they love will be taken from them again.”
Grae released our hold and gently cupped my cheeks with both hands, making me meet his endless umber eyes. “You cannot contain everyone’s suffering in your heart alone,” he said for what felt like the hundredth time. Still, we both knew I needed to hear it again. “You cannot carry the burden of every single citizen’s grief. You can only take another step forward each day. Breathing life back into this court will be the slowest sunrise, not the brightest lightning strike,” he said, dropping one hand to trace his fingers across my scars. I thought of Sawyn’s emerald bursts of lightning, the ones that flashed in the sky the night I found out Grae was my mate, that same emerald magic that claimed my life. “But the sun will rise on the Golden Court, little fox. Trust in that.”
A tight knot formed in my throat and I nodded. I wished I could leash the sun and hoist it into the sky faster, but Grae was right, it was rising, the court was healing, I just needed to give it time.
“We should be turning our eyes south anyway,” I murmured.
“Ah,” Grae said, gesturing to my soldierly attire. “I should have guessed.”
“Damrienn has still made no moves,” I said. “Not a single peep from across their borders. It makes me feel like we’re walking a tightrope just waiting for a strong wind to blow us over.”
“Or a juvleck to yank us down,” Grae said, and we both shuddered, remembering the monster from the gold mines of Sevelde.
“It feels like preparing to battle a shadow,” I muttered. “Will they attack through the treacherous waters of our coasts? Will they attack through our border with Taigos? Or will it be something far more insidious—will they attack us from within? And if Damrienn attacks, what do we do then? We have no pack and a fledgling army to fight them.”
“That army is growing every day,” Grae assured me. “Hector and Maez are already working hard to assemble a new retinue. They’re retraining the old palace guards and recruiting more soldiers. The smiths’ forges are always lit making new weapons. The tanners’ purses are heavy with gold making new battle leathers. All of Olmdere is coming together for their future.”
“And Sadie? Will she forever require a royal summons to stand by my side?” I asked, hopeful that my friend was beginning to come back into the fold. Grae let out a long-suffering sigh, which told me everything I needed to know. I wondered if Sadie just needed more time or if she didn’t want to be my royal guard at all anymore.
“She needs someone to scruff her and drag her back in,” Grae growled. “You’re being too lenient with her. It’s been long enough since Navin left. This is self-indulgent.”
I chuckled.
“What?”
“When have these feelings ever made sense?” I asked with an arch of my brow. “When have we ever followed a perfect timeline? Maez and Hector focus too hard on their work, Sadie too little. We’re all finding ways to cope.” I glanced down at the turquoise water just beyond my boots. “We’re all mourning the loss of what we thought our lives would be. Even I miss that certainty in my own strange way.”
The day before had been a sword and dagger day, one where I wanted to look and feel like the assassin I’d trained to be. Today I was a ruler, a fighter. Perhaps tomorrow I’d feel like a queen. And that was just about what I did, not who I was. No, I was only beginning to unravel the freedom of my true gender: merem—with the river. Yet unlike the still, silent waters before me, I moved in and out of womanhood, dipping my toes in all forms of expression. I existed between and beyond, some days one, some days all, and some days none. I slowly absolved myself of the need to find my box and stay in it. I was merem. I flowed.
It just wasn’t in any way easy.
Perhaps it was naive to think peeling back the layers of who I was would only unearth positive things. Revealing my identity to others had been both freeing and frightening, and still I wondered every day that I claimed that name if the world would actually accept me. Every single interaction I had, I questioned it. Every time I spoke the word “merem” aloud, I wondered if the person listening would understand me: a Wolf with human words, a Wolf who wanted to be more.
Grae dropped his chin onto my shoulder. My mate at least embraced every part of me, made me feel safe to not make sense, sometimes even to myself. He granted me the reprieve from absolutism, let me quietly figure out all I wanted to be. He moved with me in lockstep, subconsciously knowing my push and pull, following where I guided like a partner in a dance. He and I waltzed through this revelation with more ease than any Wolves would have, gliding from a rigid world of males and females into the bright spectrum of colors we never knew existed. Just like this burgeoning court, everything within us was being brought back to life, both of us healing from our lifelong wounds.
Grae dropped one last kiss to my temple and stood. “Alas, I didn’t just come down here to bring you back to bed.”
I glanced up at him and took his offered hand. “What now?” Was it another court meeting? Were there more people at my doorstep needing aid? Mapmakers? Builders? Farmers?
“The painter is to arrive this morning,” Grae said hesitantly, already bracing for my response.
“Oh no,” I groaned, hustling up the steps. “Do I really need to be added to another portraiture? Can’t we just point to one of the Gold Wolves already up there and say that it’s me?”
Grae laughed. “And your human portrait for the fresco?” My stomping footsteps echoed up the stairwell. “You’re willing to ride off into near certain death for your people, but sitting for a portrait is one step too far?”
“Of course! One is exciting, the other is mind-numbing tediousness.”
Grae’s hand slid from the small of my back to my ass and squeezed. “Do this and then afterward we’ll do something more fun.” He smiled. “If you feel numb after . . . I’ll remind every inch of your body what it is to feel.”
I blushed but couldn’t let him leave with the upper hand. “Only if ‘something more fun’ involves far less clothing and that little bottle of aromatic oils I gifted you for your birthday,” I said, reaching back and squeezing his thigh. He let out a little growl, and I smiled with all the smugness of a cat toying with a mouse. Grae didn’t get to torture me without me returning the favor.
His arms wrapped around me, holding me to him as we awkwardly moved up the steps in unison and I let out a chuckle. “This better be the fastest artist in Aotreas,” he grumbled, his hands roving my body as we hit the second spiraling stairwell. “Or your portrait will be in the nude.”
We heard the iron grate of the entry screech open, far on the other side of the palace. As we walked up the twisting stone steps, we heard an accompanying shout from one of the guards. Both Grae and I instantly reached for our weapons as the door above us was thrown open.
“Your Majesty!”
I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Each of his belabored breaths made me flinch as if it were my lungs being shredded. I squirmed on the plush velvet chair, raking my nails across the armrest with one hand and tossing my knife around with the other. Navin’s limp body was sprawled across the chaise longue beside my chair, the two of us tucked into the corner while my friends conferred around the grand council table.
A horde of healers had worked on him and left . . . that had been three hours ago. Three hours he’d been unconscious, not a single groan or snore. I kept my eyes pinned to the rise and fall of his rib cage. I despised him, hated him even, but he couldn’t die. I wouldn’t let him.
Across from us, Calla, Hector, Grae, and Maez all stared down at maps scattered across the table, plotting ways to infiltrate Highwick and the dungeons below.
“We don’t even know if Ora was taken by Nero or just some rogue Silver Wolves,” Briar called from where she sat at a table next to Mina, who was anxiously rapping her fingers along her leg in a steady percussive rhythm. The table was laden with bowls of food and cups of tea that rattled at each drum of Mina’s fingers.
Briar stood and offered a bowl of candied almonds out to her twin, prompting them to eat.
“The Silver Wolves do nothing without Nero’s command,” Hector countered. He slid a golden paperweight carved like a howling wolf across the largest map, moving it from the peninsula of Olmdere, across the snowy mountains of Taigos, and settling it atop the rolling pine forests of Damrienn.
“All he said was Wolves,” I added, turning my gaze back on Navin. “He didn’t say which pack. It could’ve been a scuffle at the Valtan border for all we know.”
Briar’s hand landed on Calla’s shoulder. “Right. So let the poor chap wake before you go declaring war on an entire kingdom.”
“That kingdom has already declared war on us,” Calla reminded, grumpily snatching the bowl from their twin. As Calla tossed a handful of almonds in their mouth, Briar pressed her lips together to hide her grin. Briar knew how to twist a person’s arm just as well as her sibling knew how to wield a sword. “We are just waiting for Nero to launch his first attack. This might have been it.”
“But, again, we don’t know that. So let’s focus on rescuing your friend first,” Maez said, poring over the war maps again. She slid the golden wolf paperweight back up to the autumnal forests of Olmdere.
It was only then I remembered that Maez had barely met Ora. The leader of Galen den’ Mora had become like family to us on our travels with them, but Maez had been locked in this very castle the entire time.
“We could dress like humans, go in through the servants’ passage,” Hector offered.
“I could set the southern hall on fire, and we could go in while everyone was evacuating,” Maez added. “We could dress as laundresses. No one would look at us twi—”
“No,” Grae interrupted, shaking his head. “My—Nero will have guards checking everyone coming in and out now. A random fire would only make him more suspicious. He’d probably rather let half the castle burn than let anyone in now.”
I flicked my knife back and forth faster, needing to do something with my hands. It felt strange to hear Grae call his father by his name. Not “my father,” or “pack leader,” or “king,” just Nero. I wondered if it still hurt him every time he spoke of his father—now his enemy. I’m sure it did. It hurt me to think of, too. Grae wasn’t the only one who lost his pack. Hector, Maez, and I had to leave our whole families behind, and this was yet another painful reminder.
“We need more people,” Maez said, tapping the snow-white tundra on the map.
“What do you have in mind?” Calla asked.
“We need to call upon your new friend Queen Ingrid. Maybe she’d be willing to send some Ice Wolves along with us or even garner an invite from Nero, and we could hide amongst her retinue. Either way, we’re going to need Taigos on our side if it really comes to war, so we might as well start that conversation now.”
“We’ll need more than just Taigos,” Hector said, smoothing his palm over the sand-covered kingdom of Lower Valta and down to the floating mountains that the Onyx Wolves called home. “We’ll need everyone. Valta, too. No one can match the Silver Wolf army alone.”
It hurt to hear my brother say it—something that used to fill us both with such pride. We were once part of that unstoppable army. Now, we were trying to figure out how to defeat them.
Navin twitched beside me, and I bolted up from my slouched position, leaning my forearms on my knees as I watched his eyelids flicker open. I was about to tell everyone that he was waking, but held it in. For some strange, selfish reason, I wanted him to see me first.
Sure enough, his eyes opened and flickered straight to me as if he knew I would be sat right there. His lips curved up in a soft smile for a split second that made whatever mended parts of me shatter all over again. Then, as if remembering what had transpired between us, his expression guttered and his face morphed into cold and serious once more.
“He’s up,” I called to the group, hating the feeling that coursed through me. What had I wanted him to do? There was no answer. Nothing he could’ve done would’ve made me ache any less. Too many feelings knotted together to pick them apart.
The group rushed over as Navin sat up with a groan and dropped his head into his hands. The healers had discerned that he’d sustained no life-threatening injuries—a few nicks and bruises, maybe a couple broken ribs, but the exhaustion and dehydration were probably what had caused him to pass out. It looked to me like he’d been kicked while he was down, judging by the purpling bruises down his spine and torso. A dark little part of me was satisfied with that. Good. Let him feel exactly as I did.
Calla perched on the lounge next to him and rubbed a hand down his back, asking, “What happened? Who took Ora?”
“Esh,” Navin cursed as he let out a shuddering breath. “Wolf soldiers.”
The whole room paused, waiting for him to say which kingdom.
“Soldiers from where?” Calla asked slowly, clarifying, and I too wondered if Navin perhaps had suffered one too many kicks to the head. “Damrienn?”
“Yes,” he panted, each breath making him wince. He waved a finger in a semicircle across his chest, making the shape of the crescent moon that the Silver Wolves wore on their chest plates. “There were three of them. Wearing King Nero’s royal sigil. One was missing an eye.”
Instantly, Hector and I locked gazes. Our uncle—Aubron—it had to be. I only had one guess who the other two Silver Wolves were. My father and his two brothers were littermates and always together. The fact that Nero sent three of his oldest friends to kidnap Ora did not bode well for any of us. Usually lower-ranked henchmen were tasked with “human troubles” as he liked to put it, which meant either Nero knew that Ora was special to us, or my father and uncles had fallen far out of the King’s good graces.
Navin’s grunt of pain snapped my attention back to him. Curse the fickle moon, I felt that pain as if it were my own body broken beneath my father’s boots. There would be no shifting for Navin, though, no magical healing that our change brought on. He’d have to heal at the snail’s pace of humans. I did not envy him that.
Maez’s lip curled as she surveyed Navin. “So this is Nero’s plan? Goad Calla into crossing into Damrienn by kidnapping Ora?”
“Why else would Nero take Ora, if not to provoke Calla?” Grae snapped, pacing back and forth down the table’s length. “That’s what he does. He pushes you into making rash decisions. He uses one person to torture another.”
I ground my teeth at that, remembering the ways Nero used Grae’s mother to keep Grae in line. He did that with many of my own family, too. There was one thing Nero was a master at and that was manipulating his pack through fear—a fear that at one point in my life felt a lot like loyalty.
“I don’t know what they’d want with Ora.” Navin looked pointedly at the floor and merely shrugged his shoulders. It was a strangely cagey action coming from someone as earnest as him. Maez and I exchanged glances. She clearly thought he was lying, too.
“What do you know that you aren’t telling us?” I pushed, making those bronze eyes lift to meet mine. I hated the way that eye contact made my whole body buzz, as if he could see right to the very core of me.
“I don’t know what the Silver Wolves want with Ora,” he repeated a little more firmly. That only made me warier. Besides Maez, the rest of the room seemed to believe him, but I knew Navin was holding something back. Still, I tucked my desire to interrogate him aside for later.
“So what’s our plan?” Maez asked after staring hard at Navin for a few more seconds. “Whatever his reason for taking Ora, Nero is making moves.”
“Now,” Calla said, looking around the room. “Whatever we’re doing, we need to do it now. Starting with calling in every ally and favor we have.” She looked at Grae. “We should go to Taigos. Convince Ingrid to help us with the rescue mission and secure her support for whatever Nero has planned next.”
Grae nodded in agreement.
“We need a representative of our court to go to Valta, too,” Calla said. “Secure King Luo’s allegiance if this all escalates.”
“I can take whoever wants to go,” Navin murmured. “I was planning on taking Galen den’ Mora to Rikesh next for the wine festival.”
“The wagon? The oxen?” Calla asked. “Are they okay?”
“Fine.” Navin slid his gaze to Mina and said, “I could use a few more musicians on my travels, though.”
Mina’s brows lifted, a silent conversation seeming to pass between the two of them. Whatever was going on with Navin’s evasiveness, Mina seemed to know, too.
“I think I’d rather stay close to my Queen,” Mina signed, making Navin’s frown deepen.
“Navin, you can’t go as my ambassador without any backup,” Calla insisted. “I don’t want to make Galen den’ Mora a target.”
“Let me go,” he pushed. “Galen den’ Mora will be far less suspicious than Wolves traveling on their own, and safer, especially now,” he added pointedly. “No one can breech the steps of Galen den’ Mora without one of us welcoming them in. It is stormproof, fireproof. We could ride through a battlefield and be safe in there.”
Maez let out a low whistle. “That’s a pretty strong dying wish.” She rubbed her chin and stared back at the map of Aotreas. “At least one person with fighting skills should go with you.”
“And Luo will be more likely to listen to Wolves rather than humans,” Mina signed, giving Navin a knowing look.
Calla nodded. “Sadie will go with you.”
“What?” My eyes bugged as I whirled. “You can’t be serious. Why don’t you send Maez? Then she can communicate any news from her travels with Briar?”
Maez let out a soft growl at the suggestion she be split up from her mate. But my logic was sound. Mates could communicate in Wolf form, even from hundreds of miles apart. Yet Calla was already shaking their head and I looked at them in disbelief. They just looked back, and it was clear they were being stubborn to punish me.
I almost said as much before Calla pinned me with a look. “Can I speak with you in the hall?”
My shoulders bunched around my ears, my knife tight in my grip as I stood. Maez patted me on the shoulder and I snapped in the air between us, threatening to bite her mocking hand. I knew Calla would admonish me for abandoning my duties, but this, this was beyond cruel.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Navin said to Calla. “I promise I can help fix this.”
I didn’t know if he meant the relationship with Valta or our relationship, but it made me fume. Maybe he truly was kicked too many times in the head if he thought me traveling with him was a good idea. I had no interest in his apologies or amends, but I did have quite a few ideas of what I could do with the weapons under my now-bloodied tunic. If Navin wasn’t on the brink of death, he’d have the good sense to be afraid.
I stormed through the doorway, pushing past Calla and muttering, “I can’t believe he’s thanking you, oh gracious one.”
Calla didn’t follow straightaway. Instead, they paused behind me and turned back to Navin.
“I may look like a benevolent queen right now, Navin,” Calla said, giving him one last piercing look. I leaned back in through the doorway to see his good eye widen at the menace in Calla’s voice and my lips curved. “But I was first and foremost trained as a warrior. If you hurt any of my court again, I will gut you myself.” Calla then marched through the door, leaving him speechless. ...
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