Why would I need protection, though? Protection from what? A king who doesn’t even recognize me as someone with a name? A witch who doesn’t even know of my existence? I didn’t need protection—I needed allies. And it was clear there were none to be found amongst the Silver Wolves.
No, nothing would happen, nothing would change, unless I forced it into being. I knew then for certain what I had always known: I’d have to carve out my own path in the world, because no one would clear the way for me . . . not even my mate.
I huffed a bitter laugh, grabbing the amber stone from around my neck and yanking the chain free. “I have no use for your protection nor a mate who’s a coward.” I threw it at him, watching his shock morph into devastation as it fell to the floor.
I pushed past him and left without another word. He didn’t stop me.
Storming through the castle, my heart thundered in my rib cage. I was sick of waiting for the promises of men. I threw open the door to my chambers and hastened to my wardrobe. It was time for me to take charge. I donned my battle leathers and belted my dagger to my waist. I put some changes of clothes into my backpack and looked around to see if there was anything else of use.
Who knew how many days my sister would last before she withered away like the flowers in her hands? How many weeks would the sleeping curse preserve her life without food or drink?
I pushed through the adjoining door to Briar’s room, straight to her gem-studded jewelry chest. I grabbed out a pouch of coins from the bottom drawer and a handful of trinkets, shoving them into my heavy pack. That should be enough.
Rescuing Maez would take stealth . . . and the one thing I seemed to be good at was being ignored. The only one who might have tried to prevent me from going was Grae, and I was unsurprised that he chose to obey his father like an obedient little lapdog rather than actually help the person he purportedly loved.
Pulling my hood up, I strode through the castle toward the back gates, not a single servant stopping to question my movements.
The haunting image of Briar’s lifeless face chased me through the forest. My heavy pack bounced with every step and its thin leather straps cut into my shoulders. I heaved ragged breaths, pushing my burning legs to move faster. I needed to get far from Highwick by nightfall.
Doubling back on my steps and passing through the rivers would slow down their hunt—and there was no doubt that when the moon rose in the sky, the pack would come for me. I was the mate of their prince . . . and a deserter. Wolves didn’t leave their pack. Desertion was usually a death sentence, but at least I knew they couldn’t kill me since I was tied to Grae. Nero needed me, too, to legitimize his theft of Olmderian gold.
They’d track me, though. Drag me back to Highwick, stuff me in a wedding dress, and once the vows were done, they’d lock me up in that castle and never think of me again except maybe to let Grae try to sire some litters with me. I shuddered at the thought of him even touching me now. This is the only role I’d be allowed, my whole being reduced to my ability to give the King heirs. I gritted my teeth wondering how many years would Grae promise and plead to fix things before he gave up? How long before the fire inside him died?
I slogged through another murky creek. My boots hung by their laces from my pack, my trousers rolled up to the knee. Barefoot, I could sense the earth below my feet. It also meant I could keep my boots dry for when I reached the next town.
The white summits of the Stormcrest Ranges towered above me, signaling the Taigos border, home of the Ice Wolves. This northern part of Damrienn was a mystery to me. I had never thought to study the little towns scattered throughout the forests here, since I always assumed I’d go straight from Damrienn to Olmdere. That wasn’t an option now—I needed some distance and needed to go in the least likely direction. But I knew the Stormcrest Ranges were vicious, with icy gales and unpredictable blizzards. There would be no going straight over them into Taigos. I needed to get through the mountain pass before the Silver Wolves did or they’d block my only way through.
The wind whipped through the trees and the hours wore on at a slow human clip. My Wolf would’ve made quick work of this terrain, but then I’d have to leave my backpack behind. I could carry a few things in my mouth for a short distance, but I wouldn’t make it to Olmdere in my Wolf form. All Wolf palaces had changing rooms for travelers—stocked with spare clothing. They considered it Wolf hospitality, making it much easier to travel the realms than on foot or by horse. The royals and richest Wolves sent their servants ahead with their belongings so they wouldn’t need to borrow clothes. But I wasn’t going anywhere near a Wolf home, so I’d be stranded naked if I shifted.
I imagined Briar shouting at me even now: What in the Gods’ names are you doing?
“I’m saving you . . . and our kingdom,” I said aloud to the quiet forest.
I stared down at my dagger. If I stayed, Briar would be locked in that room forever while Grae’s father pilfered gold from my homeland. I couldn’t go back, couldn’t exist in the world without her if I knew there was a chance she could be saved.
That kiss Grae and I shared buzzed through my mind, and I hated the traitorous thought, especially since I couldn’t dismiss it. It had almost been more than a kiss. I cringed, thinking of how I’d let that lust override my logic. The Wolf in me wanted him, I told myself, that was all. It was the magic of the mating bond that made me dizzy every time he was near. He might care for me, love me even, but it was all just magic. Love wasn’t born from moments of passion, or whispered promises, but from actions. Grae’s vows of love meant nothing if he was willing to watch me rot away in that castle. Doing hard things, making hard choices—that was love.
Putting distance between us made me feel stronger and weaker all at once. I snarled at the Wolf who kept playing over and over in her head what that kiss could’ve turned into. The way he snarled into my mouth when his hand skimmed my ass . . .
“Get a grip,” I growled to myself, startling the birds from the trees.
My eyes caught on the kicked-up leaves beside me. The little dips perfectly placed into the stride of footsteps. A human had been in these woods. I followed the steps, sniffing the air.
There. The scent of worn leather and musk—a woodsman of some sort. He didn’t have the distinctive smell of a Wolf, not that I’d expect him to. Wolves kept to their packs . . . except for me, but the Silver Wolves were never truly my pack. My only pack-mate was half dead in a foreign castle.