“You’ve probably heard of our little songbird from Queen Ingrid’s masquerade?” Ora flourished their hand toward me. “It was the talk of Taigos afterward.”
“I’m not much of a music-lover,” he said with a spit. But the Rook didn’t move for the longest time after that. With each passing moment, my pulse grew louder, wondering if he recognized me somehow.
Finally, he spoke. “All right, it’ll be ten crovers to pass the border.”
“Ten?” Ora exclaimed. “Borders are normally one.”
“We’re charging per person nowadays,” the Rook said, turning toward Ora. “And extra for you lot wasting our time.”
Ora looked like they might protest, but Grae grabbed the coin purse off his belt.
“Here.” He hastily chucked it at the silent Rook waiting behind his commander.
The Rook looked at the heavy bag of coins, tossing it up and down in his hands. He nodded to his commander, clearly more than ten crovers inside. The other Rooks disembarked the wagon, shaking their heads at him—they’d found nothing.
Navin’s eyes narrowed, assessing each of the Rooks, though their covered mouths and deep hoods made it hard to discern their features. I knew he was searching for his brother again. I wondered if his heart leapt into his throat every time he saw these cloaked figures—if he hoped that, this time, he’d finally find his family member.
“Safe travels,” the head Rook said, gesturing to his comrades with his hand scythe. They all turned toward the thin trail back up to the lookout.
Mina nudged Hector when he didn’t move and he turned to follow the rest.
We filed back into the lower seating area, dragging snow across the rough hessian mat. We crammed into the couches and took off our boots, leaving them to dry along the back grate.
“That was stressful,” Sadie said, resting her woolen socks on the low table in a mirror to Navin. Their trousers just touched each other and I noticed the little smile that played on Navin’s lips at the action.
“At least now we’re in Olmdere,” Hector said.
“No, actually we’re not.” Malou snorted. “We’ve got another day’s descent before we reach the border.”
Hector’s brows dropped. “But didn’t we just pay a border tithe?”
“One of many.” Malou crossed her arms and leaned back against the patchwork couch. “We’ll be paying greedy Rooks at least two more times before we get into Olmdere, and then, who knows. There might be roadblocks in every village.”
“There aren’t,” Navin said, and everyone’s eyes darted to him. “There aren’t enough travelers passing through, and those that travel within Olmdere have no money to extort.”
I grimaced. My parents probably had provided for the humans better than Sawyn, but still, I couldn’t help but wonder how well the humans could’ve lived under their reign. I thought to Taigoska, to the city separated into human and Wolf quarters, how we entered the back of the palaces and how the guests at the ball were all Wolves. I was confronted once again by how each city, each kingdom, comprised two different worlds—different words and Gods and customs, different lives lived and different futures attainable. And I felt it more keenly than ever how I wished the world blended every color and not just black and white. What if I wanted to pray to the Goddess of Courage? What if I wanted to exist beyond the names and words given to me on the day of my birth? What if I wanted to be not a woman but merem?
Guilt burned through me. I hadn’t considered it before. I had dreamed of reviving Olmdere, of reestablishing the Gold Wolf pack, of even doing away with the restrictions between humans and wolves . . . but how much had I actually considered changing things in a substantive way? Where were the humans in these daydreams of grandeur?
“How long until the next roadblock you reckon?” Hector asked.
“Midday, probably,” Malou said with a shrug. “We’ll stop in the little village there. Water the oxen and switch drivers. We should be getting close to the border by nightfall.”
The wagon lurched back to life, rocking us all backward. We continued our slow plodding descent down the icy switchback roads.
“There’s a great spot along the border for stargazing,” Navin said, nudging Sadie with his calf. “Maybe you want to check it out?”
“I need breakfast,” Hector groused as the group snickered, shooting up from the couch. “Who wants tea?”
“I’ll help you,” I said. Grae’s hand squeezed my hip as I rose.
I looked down at him, seeing the fire still burning in his hooded eyes. I gave him a little nod. We’d find our own spot tonight and he’d fulfill those promises that filled me with instant yearning. I felt dizzy and flushed as I climbed the ladder after Hector to the blackened box stove. It overwhelmed me how much I needed that connection. Everything was storming around me, but Grae was my anchor, my constant. After twenty long years, I’d be in my homeland again. I’d uphold the promises my ancestors made to the humans. I’d rid their kingdom of monsters, starting with the sorceress.
Thirty-Two
The snow gave way to thick clouds and the scent of spring rain. In the late evening, we’d rolled into the half-deserted border town of Durid. I yanked the hood of my cloak lower as Grae and I darted hand in hand, sheltering under the next roof.
“I don’t think there will be much stargazing tonight,” Grae shouted to be heard above the sound of pouring rain.
With the thick cloud cover, the night had swiftly claimed the day. Where there should’ve been a sunset, it already appeared as darkest night.
“Sadie didn’t look too concerned when they left.” I chuckled, thinking of the look on her face when she and Navin ran off just like we were doing now.
Most of Galen den’ Mora chose to stay in the wagon, hiding from the deluge. I’d hoped to get a peek of Olmdere from this vantage point, but we could barely see two feet in front of us. From what little I could gather of Durid, it seemed like a midsize town with modest thatched-roof homes around the outskirts and taller stone edifices in the center. The largest forge appeared to be abandoned, the parapets crumbling and the windows overgrown with ivy.
“Where are we going?” Grae called as I yanked on his hand, pulling him back into the rainstorm. Our boots splashed through deep puddles, mud flying around us as we darted toward the fortress. My clothes were soaked to the skin, but I didn’t care. In that moment, with just Grae and me and the roar of rain, I felt giddy and light.
We reached the outer wall of the ruins and climbed over the rubble. I tore back the vines obscuring the doorway and stumbled into the shadowed room. Grae’s hand clenched around mine, keeping me upright as my feet wobbled over the loose stone. My eyes strained. A human would probably see nothing but darkness, but, even in this form, I could see the outlines of shapes.