A birthmark snagged her interest, distracting her from the scar—the shape of a crescent moon on the inside of his left wrist.
The mark of the Shadow Heir. The future Prince of the Shadowlands.
Her breath hitched.
Another of Aunt Rhea’s warnings about the Outlands and its occupants flashed through her mind, as swift as a strike of lightning.
“Wicked creatures live in the Outlands, my star. They drink the blood of the living, and they thrive off the energy of others. Leaching it out of them until nothing but husks—skeletons—remain. In their eyes, there is no such thing as right or wrong. They’re killers—all of them…”
Her grip on the hilt of the blade slackened. “You’re Erebus Arlock’s son.”
Gripping her hips between his legs, the boy flipped them both, until he came out on top again. Grabbing her hand—the one holding the knife—he slammed it into the ground. Once, twice, three times… Her fingers loosened, and she gasped as pain shot through her wrist.
The boy leaned in close and hissed, “And you’re a long way from home, stranger.”
She thrashed beneath him, but he held her tight, squeezing her sides so hard it hurt. “I come from the House of Ice,” she gasped, each word more strangled than the last. This was her chance—heronlychance to frighten him enough that he might let her go. “My aunt is Rhea Erwyn, and my uncle is Balthazar Sylvana. I wouldn’t threaten me if I were you!”
“The Sylvanas?” he spat. Gripping her shoulders, he leaned close and hissed, “All the more reason to eat you alive.”
Despite that her aunt and uncle were indeed Rhea Erwyn and Balthazar Sylvana, she started sobbing as everything her aunt had taught her about the Erebus Arlock and his horrible family rushed into her mind. She was a fool for coming here! Aunt Rhea had warned her, and she hadn’t listened. She was stupid. Stupid—
The boy pulled back in alarm, his hold on her loosening. “Are you crying?”
She swiped the tears off her cheeks and blubbered, “N-no…”
With the grace of a cat, the boy leapt to his feet and backed away, as if her tears were contagious. “I thought we were playing. You don’t honestly believe all that stuff I said, do you?”
“Like what?” she sniffled as she sat up. “Like how you said you’d eat me alive?”
“Well,duh,”he huffed, crossing his arms.
She eyed him up. “Of course. Aunt Rhea told me all about your people.”
Those icy eyes narrowed into slits. “Do you believe everything Aunt Rhea tells you?”
“Why wouldn’t I? She is myaunt.And you’re just—” She stopped, realizing she didn’t know anything about this boy, least of all his name. Everyone everywhere knew who Erebus was, but as for his son… “What’s your name, anyway?”
There was a moment of silence before he spoke. “I’m Levon,” he said, his vigilant eyes trained on her as she heaved herself to her feet and dusted off her tunic. She frowned at the flower stains on the cream-colored fabric. Her handmaidens had just washed this blasted thing… “Who areyou?”He stepped closer. Sunlight reflected off his teeth.
She opened her mouth to answer, but before she could speak, the trees surrounding the clearing trembled, and the keening language of a pack of wolves bounced against the distant mountains. A gust of wind shuddered through the area, and a flock of panicked birds shot out of the trees and took off overhead in an explosion of feathers.
Silence swept in, hollow and merciless, and her knees wobbled. “What was that?”
“You tell me,” Levon said, his words wobbling as much as her knees—though his nostrils flared, as if he were trying to catch a scent that might tell him what was happening. “You’re the one who speaks to wolves.”
Although she had been raised by a wolf, their language was a mystery to her. She hadn’t the slightest clue what those wolves communicated in their howling, but she knew it couldn’t be good.
The howling then turned into a series of sharp barks and growls—and the high-pitched, hair-raising scream of a human girl cleaved her soul in two.
Hannelore.
She took off running, tearing through the trees, but before she could get very far, Levon shouted after her.
“Wait!” he bellowed. “What’s your name?”
“Sable!” she called over her shoulder. And then she ran like the wind.
~
