By the gods, does she want to be kidnapped by Volkish raiders? I remind myself that she knows nothing about them or the missing godkissed people, and I intend for it to stay that way.
“You’d prefer to pass through cities? More jeering men? More women spiteful that you’ve stolen their husbands’ attention?”
Sabine holds both hands up. “You know what? You’re right. The forest road sounds lovely.”
The rest of the afternoon, we get no more trouble other than some farmhands who sprint to the edge of a wheat field to watch us pass, and a crow who perches on Sabine’s shoulder and refuses to leave until I throw a rock at it.
That earns me one of her scowls.
As the afternoon drags on, my thoughts cycle back to the innkeeper’s warning about the missing godkissed. It isn’t unusual for godkissed to go missing more often than regular people. By our nature, we’re coveted. Men want godkissed wives as a sign of status, and they aren’t above stealing them.
But a young boy? The Marblenz soldier? And what about the godkissed girl the bear supposedly dragged off in the northern border villages? Something still feels particularly off about that last one.
The mental map of Astagnon’s northern border forms in my head. I’m intimately familiar with the border’s contours, since it cuts through the Blackened Forest, where I do much of my hunting. The wall, built thirty feet high, divides not only the forest but also the two kingdoms. There have never been stairs or openings in the wall. I’ve only seen it once with my own eyes, and even then, it was from a distance. To reach the border means traversing through a nearly impenetrable section of the Blackened Forest.
Suddenly, my feet go still.
If my mental map is correct, the area where I tracked that odd bear was less than a mile from the border wall. It’s been five hundred years, for fuck’s sake. What if the wall’s protective wards broke?
A dark certainty fills me, though I know nothing for sure. If raiders did come from Volkany, they would have had to tear down part of the supposedly-impenetrable wall. A bear—a goldenclaw, who hasn’t been seen in our lands for nearly a thousand years, but might have awoken north of the border—could have entered after they opened it.
Rian dismissed my previous warning about the goldenclaw, but with this new information, he’ll have no choice but to take the possibility more seriously. It’s strange to think the Valveres, with their network of spies, haven’t heard of any strange border activity.
Ahead, Sabine draws Myst to a stop and peers at me inquisitively over her shoulder “Wolf? Why did you stop?”
My muscles prickle, wanting to return to the Blackened Forest and inspect every inch of that wall. Timing is critical if enemy raiders are entering our land to abduct godkissed. I can only imagine what King Rachillon of Volkany—mad or not—intends to do with them.
And yet, as Sabine looks back at me with those doe-like round eyes, I’m beyond torn. This is where I should be. Protecting her. There’s no chance in hell I’d let any other person alive do the job. She’s far too valuable. If anything were to happen to her . . .
“Wolf?” she prompts again. “Hel-lo?”
“Keep moving,” I bark, snapping out of my thoughts as I stalk forward. “I didn’t tell you you could stop.”
She rolls her eyes at my gruffness, but dutifully urges Myst forward.
Good girl, little violet.
As we enter the Mag Na Tir Forest, fears about what is really happening in Astagnon claw my insides to shreds.
Chapter 7
Sabine
“Is this really necessary?”
As Wolf coils rope around my wrists, I glare up at him through my lashes, trying to impress upon him the full extent of my indignation. His shirt, which is normally tight on him, hangs on me like a chemise. The collar is so loose that my godkiss mark shows on my breastbone, but I can’t tug it higher with him tying my wrists.
“That’s up to you,” he says. “Are you ready to tell me the boy’s name?”
My face settles into a scowl.
My look makes him smirk. He gives the rope an extra tug to check its tightness and then moves on to my ankles.
“I told you, little violet. Tell me your lover’s plan to steal you from Lord Rian, and I’ll trust you enough not to tie you up. I won’t even kill the lad, how about that? I’ll just remind him there’s a price to pay for coveting another man’s property.”
Resting my back against the tree, I heave a sigh that travels all the way to my navel. I suppose there’s no point in denying anymore what Wolf already knows.
I mutter evenly, “He didn’t sully me, if that’s what you’re so concerned with.”
Wolf loops the rope around my bare ankles, trussing me up with the same well-practiced knots he probably uses on his quarry. “I know he didn’t.”
I snort. “How could you possibly know that? I could have slept with half the boys in Bremcote, and you’d be none the wiser.”
His hands go still for a brief moment, and then he finishes the knot. Tossing his hair back, he stands. “I just know.”
“You’re a liar, Wolf Bowborn. Come on. That can’t even be your real name.”
He runs a hand over his chin like he knows better than to let me goad him, but then levels me with a dark look that says he’s run out of patience for my prodding. In a steady voice, he explains, “Whenever Lord Rian gets a new whore for the brothels, he brings her to me first. Many claim they’re virgins—few actually are. I can . . . tell. And I can tell with you, too.”
He sniffs the wind once, like an animal.
I gape, mildly disgusted. “You can smell that? No. Impossible.”
His eyes gleam like hot coals. “If you don’t like it, take it up with the Immortals.”
I fold my bound arms into my chest, feeling pink-cheeked and mortified. All the while Wolf goes about setting up camp, I pity myself for having to be stuck with this beast of a man. He was right when he warned me he was an animal—but not a sweet one like my mice and birds.
He seemed nervous at the inn. Something happened while he was buying supplies. Whatever the innkeeper told him was significant enough to spook him away from the road to Middleford to take the forest road instead.
This detour complicates my plan significantly. Adan anticipated what route the ride would take through the major towns, and our rendezvous hinges on that path. Now that Wolf and I veered off course, Adan will have no way of finding me.
I still have his seashell, tucked into the cradle of my ear. It’s the only place I could hide it on my body. As badly as I want to clutch it now for reassurance, I don’t dare risk Wolf seeing. The man has the eyes of a hawk.
Well, Wolf Bowborn can’t see or smell or taste inside my head. My mind is my own. And that’s where I keep Adan, tucked away among my few good memories. Myst. Suri. Adan. The only souls in this world who ever gave a damn about me.
Supper passes with few words exchanged between us. Wolf leaves to take a piss. Myst seems spooked, uneasy, as she stamps her feet next to the tree where she’s tethered.
What is it? I ask.