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The king wasn’t using his study, or whatever that room was. I sighed with relief. Finally, I had the whole library to myself.
First, I opened the small book and peered at the map of Efra included in the front. The king hadn’t wanted me looking at these maps. What kind of information was hidden in them? There had to be some answers as to why the structure of Efra, and Frasia, had changed so much since they had been drawn. When had the city shrunk? When had the nation split into the divides I knew now?
I smoothed the book flat onto the table and then stood in front of the shelves biting back a smile. I’d have to work through these methodically. I’d have to look at all these maps.
It took a while, and a very serious handle on my self-control to not get sucked into the more unfamiliar and curiosity-piquing maps, but after an hour, I’d pulled two more of Efra that illustrated some of the differences.
Strange. I smoothed the first map out flat. In this one, Efra was similar to the city I knew from current maps, except the south side was much larger, with neighborhoods extending nearly to the Frasian border. Now, that territory was mostly wasteland. I hadn’t heard reports of any wreckage in the wastes, either—it was like the city had never been there at all. I rolled out the second chart to compare. This map was even closer to the survey in the Blaylock book, with the southern side full of city infrastructure, as well as a larger Efran reach to the north and east, towards Daybreak.
The strangest thing was—the surveyings weren’t that old. Both were dated to my grandfather Constantine’s reign, which ended a century ago. Why had the city grown smaller during that time? And why was there seemingly no mark of that shrinkage in Efra today?
It was so large in the front of Blaylock’s book that I wondered if it was a metropolis at all. Was I seeing Efra, when really it was just Frasia, unbroken into cities and pack territories? The mystery thrilled me. I didn’t have access to materials like this in Daybreak, and the questions unspooled endlessly in my mind. I was good at this kind of thing, I realized—good at research, good at reading maps, good at building connections. There was so much I had to offer the court of Daybreak that I was never allowed to do. The realization made me frown. At least once I was done with this competition, I’d have more freedom. Maybe less access to materials like this, but I’d be free to travel where I wished, instead of being holed up in the Daybreak Manor dreaming of the day I could leave.
For now, though, I needed an even earlier map—one that predated my grandfather’s reign. I went back to the shelf and raised up onto my toes, reaching up to the topmost shelf. If my guess was right, these were probably arranged chronologically, so the oldest would be the charts in the dirty archival tubes on the highest shelf. I reached for the maps with some effort, my fingertips catching on the leather as I attempted to nudge them off the shelf and into my hands.
I finally got one and was just about to pull it from safekeeping and spread it out on the table, when my nape began to prickle.
Someone else was in the library.
I turned around slowly, so slowly, hopefully not attracting any attention. I hoped it was just a servant or guard making the rounds, maybe even a librarian who might be willing to help me access the older maps.
On the stairs, a wolf of Nightfall paused in its slow ascent.
This was not a wolf making the rounds. This wolf was looking for me. It was obvious in the way its hackles were up, nostrils flaring, ears pricked forward. Its pelt was the deep brown and black of the Nightfall pack, and it wasn’t huge—not like the guards, nor the king, but not as small as Amity and Rue. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve assumed it was a she-wolf like Rona. But what would a she-wolf be doing creeping around the halls? It had to be a guard, or—
Or something worse. Someone sent to find me.
I swallowed, my feet pinned to the floor. “Can I help you?” I asked primly, the steadiness in my voice hopefully concealing some of my fear. But I didn’t doubt the wolf could sense the anxiety radiating off me. It crept up the stairs until it was on the balcony with me, its paws silent on the stone floor.
Internally, my own wolf raised her hackles.
“What do you want?” I asked, low.
What did I expect? For the wolf to shift back into human form and explain itself? Of course it didn’t—it just pulled its lip back from its teeth in a snarl as a growl began to build.
The yellow eyes fixed on me with the bloodthirsty gaze of a predator.
This wolf wasn’t here to scare me.
This wolf was here to kill me.
11
I barely had time to acknowledge that truth before the wolf launched off its back feet with teeth bared. I scrambled backward, and my foot caught on the hem of my loose pants; with a curse I crashed to the floor. Fear lanced through me as the wolf sprang again, its yellow eyes gleaming like it was pleased. It surged toward me, jaws open and teeth bared, so close I could feel its hot, humid breath rolling over my skin. I slammed my elbow into its snout, knocking it out of the way at the last moment.
The wolf yelped. I followed my elbow with a fierce donkey kick to its chest, and the wolf staggered back a step.
My own wolf snarled and snapped her teeth internally. I could feel her beating against my ribs like a physical presence, telling me to shift, shift, shift, defend yourself. If I were a lesser wolf, like a wild beast of Nightfall, my wolf would’ve forced me to shift. But I had more control than that.
Even with the other wolf snarling at me, its saliva frothing white between its teeth and at the corner of its jaws, I wasn’t going to shift. Not in the Nightfall manor—not to fight—not when I was so heightened.
I realized, staring down this wolf with my blood icy in my veins, that part of me feared I wouldn’t be able to shift back.
I shoved that fear down. I didn’t need my wolf to beat this one. I was just as strong in my human form, just as agile, just as smart. I bared my teeth at the beast and scrambled to my feet, dropping into a low fighting stance, and wrenched the small silver knife from my waistband.
“Come on,” I hissed at the wolf. “Try me.”
The wolf snapped its jaws again and surged forward. This time I met its attack with a swift kick to the side of the head, snapping it sideways; I barely hopped out of the way fast enough to avoid its jaws closing around my shin. My defense knocked the wolf to the side as its bulk crashed into the shelf of maps, sending the leather tubes tumbling from the shelf and all over the floor. A few bounced off the wolf’s body. It growled louder in frustration and shook its body like it was dispelling water droplets.
