The king continued, his gravelly voice scraping across the snow, “If you have looked around you, you might have noticed I have selected a diverse group. Not all of you are the strongest; not all have the most experience. But I have handpicked every one of you to march into the Outlands and stop this uprising. The others will stay here and guard the House during our absence.”
This couldn’t be happening.
But it was. And it was a gods-damned nightmare.
“Any questions?” No one said a word. “You will leave at dawn. Dismissed.”
~
Despite how the king had dismissed them after his brief announcement, the packs stayed at the Ice Bay until the watery sun began to dip below the horizon.
The day was never complete unless Nocturne took a beating fromsomeone, so it was no surprise when the general announced they would be separated into groups for yet another scrapping session. And it was no surprise that Nocturne was partnered up with Ailish and Tinsley. Whatdidsurprise her was that Kit was the one who chose the groups this time—and he looked right at Nocturne as he paired her up with the two people here who hated her the most.
By the time he called the soldiers to attention, Nocturne had a split lip, a bloody nose, and a welt forming on her left eyebrow. The chill in the air had made her legs so numb she could barely move as she began trudging through the snow, back toward the House of Ice.
Shehatedhim. She didn’t understand how he could do this to her! And yet…a part of her did. Because she had all but rejected him. As one of the king’s most powerful men, the general was used to getting what he wanted, whether it was gold, jewels, weapons, food. And Nocturne supposed women were no exception. He’d set in his eyes on her the moment she joined the army, and she might as well have spat in his face for all the nasty words she’d said to him since then. But did she really deserve this kind of treatment now? What was she supposed to do—allow the man she hated to take her to his bed? She swallowed hard at the thought.
Twyla came up beside her, snow glistening in her spiky hair. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been worse,” she muttered. It wasn’t a lie. “If you hadn’t bandaged me up this morning, I don’t think I would’ve made it out here.” She looked at her friend, who had crept into her chambers before dawn and offered to change her bandages. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Twyla gave her a soft smile. “You’re welcome.”
When they reached the gate, and the Wolf Pack made their way into the House, Nocturne lingered in the courtyard. For all she had endured here, the place held an odd sense of security, as if the ghosts of those murdered here still watched over it. It wasn’t long before she and Twyla were alone, the doors to the House slamming shut.
The night was still. The House glittered in the last of the day’s light, like a jewel in a mine. The snow blanketing the landscape was a coat of diamonds, twinkling in even the dullest light.
Nocturne pulled off her hood, shook out her hair, and gazed up at the sky, searching for the stars as they began winking awake. As the seconds wore on, the constellations made themselves known.
Anaxi and Serene, the deities of Ice and the Long Winter, hung high above the northern woods, the former crowned with antlers and the latter with a slender peak of stars. It was to this pair that Nocturne had looked for guidance in her weakest moments, in the hours and days and even weeks after her family had passed.
Tears formed at the corners of her eyes, and she blinked them away. Weeks.Weekshad passed, and nothing had changed.
When her village was burning, and she was hauled from her house, the mangled bodies of her parents and sister strewn nearby, one of her neighbors had looked at her from the other side of the road. The woman’s name had escaped her that night, but Nocturne remembered it now. Abigail was the young wife of a blacksmith. She used to bring their family freshly baked pies and jams.
Nocturne had shouted at her—called for help. Abigail had merely turned her back on her, the hatred in her eyes revealing all the words she didn’t say.
You did this.
And she had. If it weren’t for the rotten magic stirring in her blood, the king’s northern army wouldn’t have sniffed her out.
A single tear slipped down her numb cheek.It should’ve been me.
Anaxi and Serene, once worshipped in every northern village, now only an echo of what they once were. Nocturne wished they could hear her now, not because she had a prayer in need of answering, but because she ached to know why they’d left. Why the constellations remained, yet their once quiet but solid presence had turned into a void.
Nocturne had forgotten Twyla was there until she spoke, her voice like a wind chime ringing gently through the night. “Are you coming inside?”
Nocturne kept her eyes on the sky. “Soon,” she said.
Twyla made her way to the entrance, her white fur cloak whispering on the snow as she walked. When the doors to the House of Ice closed behind her, everything was silent for a long time. Even Nocturne’s thoughts had quieted into nothing. Only her, the snow-kissed wind, and the hollow stars remained.
Nocturne wasn’t sure how much time had passed before the sound of hooves thumping in snow shattered her peace. As she pulled her hood back up, she threw a glance over her shoulder.
A man cloaked in black dismounted at the entrance of the House of Ice and sprinted up the slick steps. In his hand was a cloth sack. The kind of sack the king’s men would use to transport the heads of the people they killed.
The Wraith had returned.
29
