But the animal showed no sign of causing them harm; it merely whimpered and licked at her skin. The musky scent of its matted coat tickled her nose.
Slowly, she turned over, strands of strawberry-blonde hair draping across her face. The wolf gazed down at her. While one of the wolf’s eyes was yellow, her other was surrounded by scar tissue, the iris so brown it was nearly black.
The wolf stayed with them as they shivered on that bank; as they wrung out their clothes and stared at each other in terrified silence, unsure of what to do next; as the sun dipped lower in the sky, and the chill of night swept in, making them tremble harder than before.
Bushes rustled. Branches snapped underfoot.
The wolf stood tall, planting herself firmly before them, her ears erect. Protecting them from whatever threat was approaching.
A young girl stumbled out of the brush, her cotton dress catching on brambles. Black hair flowed past her waist, and sea-green eyes blinked several times, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. In her hands she held a basket brimming with tomatoes, eggplant, and squash. Her grip loosened, and the basket dropped to the ground with a heavythump, scattering the vegetables as it rolled down toward the river.
The twins held very still.
The wolf took a step closer to the river wending between them, her paws squishing in the mud. She sniffed at the wintry air, her nose twitching.
The dark-haired stranger took a hesitant step forward, the space between her eyebrows scrunching. But the wolf released a pleading growl, digging her claws into the earth.
In the distance, a man’s voice rose over the cornfield as he called for the golden-skinned girl. Her expression was torn as she turned to look over her shoulder, and then back at the twins and the wolf standing guard before them. Before she disappeared into the cornfield, her basket forgotten, she mouthed a single word:
“Run.”
~
The dream continued to haunt Avalon as a red sun faded into a purple twilight, and she couldn’t stop thinking about the twins in their iron helmets and shackles. If Hadrian or the other guards tried to talk to her, she wouldn’t have noticed, for she was absorbed by her own thoughts.
They made camp while a hint of light still clung to the horizon, and Hadrian brought her bread, cheese, and strips of dried deer meat. She nibbled on her food, for she didn’t have much of an appetite. Compared to the temperature of the Tyrrhenia River, the wind seemed warm. She knew it was impossible, but she swore that when she’d first experienced that memory, she couldfeelthe cold water thrashing around her. As if it wasn’t the twins who had nearly drowned, buther.
The men around the fire laughed loudly over a joke she hadn’t heard, causing her to jump in surprise. Beside her, Hadrian murmured something, but she didn’t hear him, for the sounds of the world around her had melted away.
She closed her eyes and put her head between her knees, squeezing hard. Praying to the old gods and the new for the night to pass without incident.
6
Kit Wilding sat at the king’s right at a long glass table in the Great Hall. The sun was rising, lighting up the wall of ice that ran along one side of the room. Most days it was a beautiful sight, but today Kit found it lacking.
For he couldn’t stop looking at the paintings on the opposite wall—the paintings he’d found a teary-eyed Nocturne studying the previous dawn. He still hadn’t forgotten what she said to him.
It’s easier, General, if I continue to believe that you could never care about someone like me.
It would be easier, wouldn’t it? If he were smart, he would pretend that he didn’t care about her, instead of playing with fire by always trying to talk to her, to be near her. When a person played with fire, sooner or later, someone was going to get burned.
Thatsomeonewould probably be him.
Kit suppressed a sigh and forced himself to focus on the present.
This was the first time the king had chosen to dine in the Great Hall, and they were alone. He’d summoned Kit an hour ago, and the food had only just arrived. Kit was to discuss battle strategies with him—and figure out which lands in Elderyn the Dark Army would claim next.
Their end of the table was littered with pitchers of juice and jars of jam, and silver platters were brimming with fried eggs, roasted chestnuts, winter vegetables, and thick slices of dark bread. The king was currently digging into a steak so pink it was likely raw; when the kitchen staff had tried to serve Kit one as well, he’d sent it back to be cooked—thoroughly.
The king was in a black mood today, for he and Kit had not succeeded in finding the mask where the king had sealed it with a spell ten years ago. And despite that the king had initially hoped to keep the mask a secret from everyone except those who already knew of its existence, he’d ordered several of his best men to search the catacombs, which was what they were doing now. The king was hopeful that he’d somehow mistaken which crypt he sealed it inside, but Kit could tell from the set of his jaw that this hope would soon fade.
If his men did not return with the mask, heads would roll.
The general had been staring at the king for longer than he realized, watching him tear into his steak like an animal. Pink liquid dripped from the meat and pooled on his plate. Before the king could notice that he was being watched, Kit served himself a couple fried eggs and a handful of cubed potatoes.
The king wiped his mouth with a napkin, clumsily missing a line of juice that dribbled down his chin.
The general couldn’t help but grimace.
