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We practice moving in tandem. As we do, the warmth of Varin’s happiness blooms within my chest. It’s not a perfect solution, and it takes extra effort in the beginning.
Over the next hour, it gradually becomes easier. They give my steps a grace I never had. I even find that my stamina has improved by using less of my own energy, combined with the rapid healing through my connections to Alaric and Varin.
I don’t notice the fog rolling in until it rises from wisps over the forest floor to thick clouds knee-high. An eerie sensation crawls down my spine. The entourage continues into the mist without pausing.
Intending to look at Oliver, I’m startled when I bump into him. Only he didn’t move to block my path—I’d changed direction without realizing it, and Varin’s confusion matches my own.
“What is this?” I whisper to Oliver.
“This is the parameter of the Keep.” He catches me by the elbow as my feet try to take me back the way we came. At the alarm on my face, he explains, “It is a barrier meant to keep those on the outside from entering and those brought in from leaving.”
I glance at the last wolf disappearing into the thick mist, leaving us to catch up.
“Except for us,” he adds as an afterthought.
He takes my hand and leads me in. I can barely make out anything in front of me. Oliver takes me on a path that seems to meander, doubling back and twisting in on itself. The more I try to move in a straight line, the more erratic the route becomes.
“Please stop, you’re going to make me sick,” I plead. “isn’t there a straight path you can take?”
“It is the magic distorting your sense of direction. Without aid, anyone without wolf blood who tries to enter will be doomed to wander, until they die.” His voice sounds slightly strained. “Focus on me. The more you fight my lead, the more effort it will take to bring you through.”
I press the side of my head to his shoulder and keep my gaze locked on my hand tucked into the crook of his arm.
Gradually the haze thins, and we step through. The disorientation fades the further away we get from the spelled fog.
The last of the pack is dispersing by the time Oliver and I made it through the border of trees to a clearing. The guards in charge of Alaric have already disappeared with him. Dozens of men, women, and children emerge to welcome back their loved ones and assist with the injured and the dead.
We stop beside a large pavilion attached to an elongated building, and I take in the small hamlet that is nothing like I expected. Instead of a stone wall surrounding a space cleared of natural vegetation and leveled, I’m greeted by the sight of something straight out of a fairytale.
Lanterns hang, stretching between branches, over the open space. From the western edge comes the sound of a gentle stream trickling over rocks.
Makeshift huts, built close together within the line of trees, form a horseshoe three rows deep. The shapes of the small dwellings are irregular, fitting into the landscape rather than intruding. Moss and vines grow up the outer walls, adding a sort of camouflage. Pale stone paths for walkways are between each, making it easy to see even in the dark of night.
“I can give you a proper tour after we’ve all had a chance to rest,” Oliver offers. “Behind the pavilion are the kitchens.” He directs my line of sight to the largest building in the direct center of the homes. “That building is our pack hall, where we hold council meetings, and mine is the one leaning against the right side. If you need me for any reason and can’t find me, Hunt and Adalynd live in the two on the left.”
He doesn’t mention having family members. Whether something happened or not, it’s clear by the set of his jaw that it’s not a discussion he’s willing to entertain. Much as he had with introductions, he tells me where everyone lives, whether I’ve been introduced to them or not.
“For your privacy, you will stay in the house beside mine,” Oliver says. “Unless you would be more comfortable staying with someone? There are several members who would be happy to open their homes to you.”
“You’re letting me choose?”
He lists his head, then says, “Of course. You are our guest, not a prisoner.”
I consider for a moment. “Where are you keeping Alaric?”
Someone more skilled in social niceties might ask where he was staying, but I don’t see the point in pretending he isn’t their hostage.
He is extending a great kindness to me, and while I am thankful, I cannot allow myself to forget that we are not on the same side. His duty is to his pack, and mine is to Alaric. Our objectives could align, but there is no guarantee. If I cannot persuade Oliver to ally with me, there is every possibility this fight will have three sides.
He sighs. If he was hoping I would forget about bringing it up, then he should have known better. “He will remain in the holding cells until we come to a decision.”
I lift both brows. “And where are the holding cells?”
“The building behind the hall,” Oliver gestures to the manor. “I figured you would want to be near him.”
I nod. “I would like to see him.”
“While you are free to come and go as you please, there are rules when it comes to prisoners,” he adds quickly.
