"Prince Theron awaits you in the command tent," one of them says, echoing Celeste's message. It’s Reece, the young wolfshifter with the colored hair whose jugular Logan nearly ripped out. He raises his chin. “I’m also to tell you that Prince Theron is personally vouching for your wife’s safety in your absence, and that I have orders to place my life before hers.”
“An assignment with which I’m certain you are thrilled.” I slide down from Kai’s arms.
“I volunteered.” Reece says curtly. “I repay my debts."
I don’t know what to make of that and, at the moment, don’t have the strength to deliberate on it. “Go,” I tell Kai as I take Celeste’s bundle from his hand and make my way into the tent. “Or don’t. I don’t care any more. I’m going to bed.”
I settle onto the lavish bedroll without bothering to remove the silk gown. Ellie is already asleep, snoring softly into her pillow. She opens one eye as I bed down, but I wave her back to sleep, grateful for the temporary solitude.
As the night deepens, so does the pain, easing only slightly with the aid of the herbs Celeste brought. The pain creeps from the base of my skull upward, tendrils of discomfort wrapping around my temples, squeezing like a vise until I see colors and auras. I press my palms against my eyes, willing the pressure to subside. It doesn’t. But I do earn myself a wave of dizziness, the kind that makes you not care about anything else. It’s not normal. If normal has any meaning on this side of the wards. I curl onto my side, drawing my knees to my chest, making myself small against my body’s assault on itself.
Somewhere in the depth of my mind I hear a wolf howling.
Sleep, when it finally comes, is fitful and shallow, more an escape than true rest.
I wake sometime deep in the night. Neither Kai nor Kyrian are back, and I’ve given up on seeing Logan, but Ellie is still asleep as she was, her breaths deep and rhythmic. The pain—which is what I suspect woke me to begin with—has shifted. Less like a headache and more like a… pulse.
A rhythm that doesn’t belong to me, thumping insistently behind my eyes. And underneath it, a pull.
Come.
The summons aren't spoken. It isn’t a word. Not really. Just a sensation that translates itself in my mind, urgent and impossible to ignore. I sit up.
The pressure eases.
I lie back down.
Fresh spikes pierce into my skull, not easing until I’m on my feet.
Come now.
Chapter 14
Rowan
Islip out of the tent into the awaiting darkness, the silver light of the moon casting long, spectral shadows across the encampment. A faint bite of cold clings to the night air, carrying the lingering tang of burnt campfire wood and damp canvas. The world sways slightly as I move, my balance compromised by the migraine, a pulsing throb behind my right eye that blurs the edges of shapes around me. But the pull is stronger than my discomfort. It tugs deep within my chest, the pressure becoming more insistent any time I slow or deviate from its assigned course.
I'm vaguely aware that Reece peels off to follow me, his footsteps a whisper against the cold ground. Cold because I’d forgotten to put on shoes. Pebbles and coarse dirt prick the bottoms of my feet, sending little flares of pain up my legs. The rational part of my mind registers that walking barefoot is wrong, but it's a distant thought. Just as my awareness of Reece is distant.
When the edge of the forest looms before me in a wall of darkness, Reece clears his throat.
“Lady Rowan?” He half snarls thehonorific and I want to tell him he needn’t bother with it. But I don’t care enough. “Lady Rowan, where are you going?”
The forest ahead exhales cool air that smells of moss and wet leaves. I step forward into trees, their thick branches tangling together to block out the stars.
"The forest isn't safe at night." There's genuine concern in Reece’s voice now.
The forest closes around me. The air here is different—heavier, charged with an energy that makes the fine hairs on my arms stand on end. Fallen leaves crackle beneath my feet, the occasional sharp stones digging painfully into my soles. I should have put on shoes. Returning to get them now is unthinkable though.
Reece curses behind me, his footsteps quickening as he starts to close the distance.
The pull inside my head grows more urgent, almost panicked, demanding I move faster. My body responds—my bare feet finding purchase on the forest floor as I break into a sprint, the emerald silk of my gown catching on low branches and tearing.
"Stop, gods damn you." Reece shouts.
I ignore him, weaving between ancient oaks and gnarled pines, ignoring branches that whip across my face. The sting blooms hot across my skin in fleeting bursts, the smell of crushed pine needles clinging to everything around me and moonlight dappling through the canopy casts map-like patterns across the forest floor. The map whispers to me, telling me where to go.
“Rowan! Stop. Now!” Reece is right behind me now, and his words are no longer suggestions. Just as his fingers graze my dress, two iron grips materialize from the darkness, like shadows given form. They seize my arms and wrench mesideways with such force that my shoulder socket screams in protest. These aren’t Kai's shadows—these are flesh and blood and muscle.
