Page 90 of The Wolf and Her Shadows

“Oh my gods,” Mariane gasps, reaching out and carefully lifting one of the swords. “How… They’re absolutely gorgeous, Mother, but how did you–”

“How did I know I’d have the chance to give them to you one day?” Sera asks, her tone tinged with guilt. “I think you already know the answer to that, Little Wolf.”

“Right, of course,” Mariane mutters, examining the blade more closely. “I suppose these are a sufficient apology, considering. As long as they come with scabbards as well. The one I use now is hardly practical. Half the time I have to take it off my back just to be able to draw the damn things.”

Chuckling, Sera lifts the lining of the box to reveal two scabbards, their leather as beautifully detailed as the blades. “As if I’d be foolish enough to not ensure it all matched.”

“Thank you, Mother. Truly,” Mariane whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry for my outburst earlier. I should’ve trusted that you–”

“Don’t.” Her mother kneels, setting the box down on the ground beside her and taking her hands. “Never apologize for showing your teeth, Little Wolf. That anger is how you’ll stay alive.” She glances over at me. “How you’ll all stay alive.”

The gesture causes my heart to ache, images of our mother’s dress flashing in our mind, yet her face having long ago turned into nothing but a blur. Would she say the same thing, if she were in Sera’s place? Would she be so supportive? So willing to let her child kill the man she’d once been married to?”

Had Mariane’s mother even loved him? Or had he changed? Become a completely different person after what the king had hired him to do? A crueler person.

“Well, in that case…” The woman I love grins mischievously, pressing her thumb against the edge of the blade in her hands. “I think you owe me a sparring match as well. After you give us the rest of the gifts you claimed to have.”

“I think that can be arranged, daughter.” A bright smile spreads across Sera’s face. “Assuming it won’t hurt your feelings to have your ass thoroughly kicked. Again.”

Mariane rolls her eyes. “I’m not that rusty.”

“No, but neither am I.” Letting go of her hands, her mother rises back to her feet. “And I’m sure if you can survive going head to head with a Drithgal, then you’ll be more than capable of killing a few pathetic men.”

*It’s not like she killed the thing by herself… I helped too,* Rayne grumbles, as Sera once again leaves the room.

*Yes, you did,* I mentally reply, leaning back and wrapping one arm around Mariane’s shoulders. *But you have to admit, she was mighty impressive that day.*

*She most certainly was,* Aren mutters, their voice quiet enough they likely didn’t intend for us to hear them.

Rayne hums, the simple sound enough for me to know she’s about to stir up trouble. *You better be careful, Vann. Looks like ol’ Aren here has their eyes on your girl.*

Aren lets out an annoyed huff. *No I don’t, I simply–*

*You know I wouldn’t mind if they did. If either of you did,* I say, hoping to end their argument before Sera returns, or Mariane notices I’m lost in my mind again. *We have our agreement for a reason, and considering Mariane and I are officially together now…*

An image of Rayne shrugging flashes in our mind. *Eh, we’ll see what happens.*

*Indeed, we will,* Aren whispers, their presence fading immediately afterwards.

A nudge to my shoulder has my attention snapping back to the woman we’d just been discussing, and I reflexively give her an apologetic smile, as if she’d somehow know we’d been talking about her. She lifts a brow, her eyes darting up to my forehead in an obvious question. My answer is a simple nod, letting her know that I was indeed having yet another conversation with the others.

Mariane opens her mouth to speak, yet whatever she’s about to say dies in her throat at the sound of her mother’s footsteps signaling her arrival back into the room. When her eyes also go wide at the sight of something behind me, I hesitantly turn, my breath catching and heart feeling as if it’s about to beat out of my chest when I see just what caused the other woman’s reaction.

In Sera’s hands is a bow. Not just any bow, however. No. A Noxumbran bow. Identical to the one my mother had used. That her and Sir Rynheim had taught me, us, to use, before…

A sob rips its way past my lips before I can stop it, and tears burn my eyes before freely falling down my cheeks as I suddenly find myself frozen in place. I vaguely register a hand grasping mine, but it does little to quell the paralyzing waves of emotions crashing over me. After a long moment, I see my free hand reaching out, as if on its own, towards the bow.

Sera holds it out to me, an understanding smile on her face. My fingers tremble as they slowly wrap around the grip, the soft purple leather feeling so familiar, yet not at the same time. As if I’d only held it in a dream, not a memory. Or perhaps both.

The rest of the bow is black, the dark wood curling like tendrils of shadow. Like my tendrils of shadow. Runes are carved into it as well, just like my own flesh. Yet these are meant to allow the user to transfer their shadow magic to their arrows. To make them shoot farther or vanish and reappear. To be more accurate. More deadly.

“How?” I hear myself whisper, barely audible above the blood rushing in my ears.

“After the fires burned out, a few of our villagers went in and searched for anyone or anything that might’ve survived. Somehow, this bow had. As did these.” She holds up three familiar daggers that I hadn’t noticed in my initial shock. “Although I’m not sure where any of them were found since I hadn’t been part of the search party.”

“Old Greyva might know,” Mariane mutters, wrapping her arm around my stiff shoulders. “Even if she hadn’t been there.”

Sera shakes her head. “If she does, she refuses to say. Trust me, I asked. Numerous times. Along with why in the hells she was giving all these weapons to me in the first place.”