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My uncle gave me the gold Wyatt left to pay for my upkeep, which enabled me to take a hired carriage to Crillia. We weren’t at war with the Crillians—not yet at least, so I had no trouble booking my seat on a public coach and heading to the foothills of the Daluri Mountains, on the border of Crillia, not far from Lameda, where the baron supposedly lived. The last time I’d come this way, I’d been walking, so this journey was much faster.
I arrived early in the morning, after a long, bumpy ride in the public coach. My companions for the journey were two betas, one a tradesman and the other a young man taking up a position as a tutor in a private home. Neither of them had much to say for themselves, being as steeped in misery as I was on the uncomfortable ride. Since they were both betas, neither of them took much notice of me or anything at all unusual about me, which I took as a good sign. I was taking my omega pills, of course, that kept me out of heat for another couple of weeks, and it was good to know they would keep me mostly safe and unnoticed.
And even if Alphas still presented a slight danger, staying safely at home and meekly waiting to see if Wyatt would ever turn up again just didn’t seem like an option. If any approached me, I’d use my Alpha’s name and his relationship with kings and hope it would be enough. Besides, my virtue seemed a small price to pay when measured against Wyatt’s life.
I was wearing a voluminous cape, one of my old uncle’s cast-offs that my Aunt Rudmilla had rounded up for me, saying I’d need the warmth in the high mountains I was headed to. It was indeed noticeably colder the closer we got to Crillia, so I pulled the hood over my head, sank into its thick, woolen confines and tried to get at least a little sleep on the long, rutted road to the border.
Rudmilla had written me a letter of reference too, suitable for someone in service, saying I had been a footman in her employ for several years. She piled on the platitudes about what a good worker I’d been. I thought it was about as much as I could do to get ready. I wished I had a weapon of some kind, but if such a thing were found in my luggage, it would probably only arouse suspicion.
The coach didn’t go as far as the village of Lameda, where the baron’s castle was located. That tiny village was reached only by traveling up a steep mountain road that led from the little border town called Redmill, where the coach deposited its passengers. I was exhausted anyway. I decided to rest for at least a night to try figure out my next step. I found a small, modest inn and paid for a room for the night. I needed to regroup before trying to find someone to take me to the baron’s castle. My plan was to simply go up to the door of the castle and knock. Then ask whoever answered if there was any work to be had inside the house, on the grounds, or even in the stables. Times were as hard here in Crillia as they were back in Sudfarma, and it wasn’t all that unusual for people to randomly show up at the door of great homes to inquire about employment. I was young and strong, not afraid of hard work and I had a glowing reference. I hoped that would be enough to convince the baron to hire me.
There were also the cryptic words of the witch about my “true nature” and how that would somehow convince the beast to let me inside his castle. Barbarosa hadn’t steered me wrong so far. I hoped this time would be no different.
The next morning over a cheap, but hardy breakfast of steaming porridge and strong, black coffee, I struck up a conversation with the innkeeper. He told me that Lord Dargan’s cook sometimes came to market on Saturdays, which was only two days away. Even if she didn’t, there were bound to be a few Lamedan villagers at the market, and I could beg or pay them for a ride on one of their carts. He said the baron’s staff was small, but they might still be interested in hiring me, especially if I had good references and was willing to work hard. It was difficult for the nobleman to keep employees in such an isolated and strange spot as Lameda. I wondered if he was a hard person to work for, as well. I suspected he was.
“I understand Lameda is isolated, but what do you mean by ‘strange?” I asked the innkeeper and his face flushed, as if he’d said more than he meant to.
He shrugged. “Oh, nothing really. It’s just a long way from everything up there on the mountain. And once the weather turns bad, there won’t be any coming back down before Spring. Then there’s the Wild Woods. The house and grounds are a bit too close to that for my liking.”
“The Wild Woods—I think I’ve heard of it. Is it true that forest has strange creatures inside it?”
I got another shrug, and he mumbled something about needing to get back to work. He took off toward the kitchen then, and I went back upstairs to grab my cape and have a quick look around town. It didn’t take long, because it was a really small place, hardly worthy of the name town. I asked around in a few shops about the coming market day on Saturday.
I had enough money for a few more nights at the inn with still enough left over if I were careful with my coins to pay some villager from Lameda to give me a ride up the mountain to the baron’s castle. When Saturday finally arrived, I was disappointed at the low turnout. A few enterprising souls had set up stands in the middle of town around the town square. This was a poor area, and most of those present were selling produce they had grown in their small gardens. One or two sold bolts of cloth or cheap jewelry. One tinker had a few pots, and a sign said he would repair any that a customer brought to him. One old woman was roasting chestnuts over some hot coals in a huge round pan that had a perforated bottom, and another half-grown boy was roasting sausages over a small grill. Like I said, it wasn’t much of a market.
I bought a sausage roll and some of the old lady’s chestnuts and stood around until midday, when the few people who’d come to market were beginning to pack up to go back home. I went over to a ruddy-faced farmer, who had sold his vegetables and was packing up to leave too. I knew from talking to him earlier that day that he was from the village of Lameda, so I asked him if he’d give me a ride on his cart back up to the baron’s castle when he left to go home. He looked at me with a slight sneer on his face. I could see he had a “no,”ready on his lips, but I held up one of the gold coins Wyatt had left with my uncle and said, “I can pay my way.”
His whole face lit up with greed when he saw the coin. It was probably worth more than he’d made all day with his vegetables. And suddenly, he was all smiles. He began to clear away some of the boxes he’d brought his produce in to make room for me in the back of his cart.
“It’s a long way, but we can be there by nightfall,” he told me. “There aren’t any fancy inns in Lameda though. And the soldiers close the gates to the baron’s castle at dark.”
Soldiers…I hadn’t counted on soldiers, but it must be some of the same ones we’d heard doing target practice in the mountains on the long march from camp to the Crillian border. I wondered if they were responsible for the raids at the border too.
“I’ll manage,” I told the farmer with a bravado I didn’t really feel.
He nodded and gave me another slight sneer as he looked me up and down. “If you say so,” he replied, and I bit my tongue and told him I’d be back as soon as I settled up with the innkeeper. In truth, I needed to talk the owner into selling me a couple of quilts or heavy blankets, a basket of food and a jug of water, because it sounded like I had a long, cold night ahead of me. I was in luck, and he sold me two old quilts, which I rolled up and carried with me and some sandwiches and even some fruit in a small basket. I went back to meet the farmer who said he’d take me up the mountain. It was a good thing, I guessed, that the army had prepared me for sleeping pretty much anywhere, because I knew I probably had a night of sleeping rough ahead of me.
It grew noticeably chillier as we traveled up the road to the village. The higher we went, the more it became a bitter cold that seemed to radiate from out of the woods that ran alongside us almost all the way. The slight wind was colder too, like the breath of some Frost giant. I pulled one of the quilts around my shoulders and prepared to endure it.
The air this high up had a strong, cloying smell of pine, along with a darker, gamier scent underneath. I didn’t want to think about what kind of animals might be responsible for that odor, but of course, my mind conjured up the stories of dragons and werewolves and flying monkeys that were supposed to be in the Wild Woods. Once I heard a strange howl that was cut off so abruptly it scared me worse than if it had kept on going. What had made it stop so suddenly? To make things even worse, thick clouds had gathered as we went slowly up the mountain road, making the approaching evening even darker and gloomier.
Just before the pale sunlight disappeared completely, the farmer called back over his shoulder to me. “Lameda is just ahead, around that bend, but this is where you need to get down.”
“What? But why? I paid you to take me all the way to Lameda, to the baron’s house.”
“The baron may be glad of that—but he may also be angry that I brought a stranger to his home. It’s best for me that you get down here and walk the rest of the way.”
I tried arguing and even pleading with him, but he wouldn’t back down. He wanted me off that cart, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer. Resentfully, I gathered my bag and the quilts and hopped down off the cart. Then I stood watching as he urged his mules up the road, leaving me there on the darkening road behind him. Not far away, I heard another long, undulating howl from the Wild Woods beside me, so I quickened my pace up the steep road.
I couldn’t help glancing at the gathering clouds overhead and thinking of the story Wyatt had told me about the men who had gone looking for the viscountess and the sudden torrent of rain and mud that had swept them off that same road. The memory did wonders for helping me shake off how tired I was. I made it up to the village in record time and came into the tiny square. It was really just a collection of huts, not far from the castle gate, really—all that constituted the village of Lameda.
As predicted, the gates to the castle courtyard were locked up tight, though I tried them anyway. I also tried calling out to any guards who might be able to hear me and I even rang a bell up high on one wall, but my voice just echoed around the inner yard, and no one came. I set my bag down near the gate, spread out one of the quilts and sat down on it to think of what to do next. Since nothing really came to mind, I decided I’d better gather some firewood from the forest that crept so close to the castle walls or else settle in for a long, cold night. At least I’d be the first to know when the guards arrived back at the gates the next morning.
I squared my shoulders, reminded myself again that there were no such things as dragons, werewolves and flying monkeys and went over to the edge of the Wild Woods to gather some sticks, branches and other dead wood for my fire, thinking belatedly what an unfortunate name my mind had conjured up to describe the fallen branches I was looking for to make my campfire. The trip into the woods was uneventful, as I didn’t go in far, and I never heard or saw anything at all—if I discounted the shadows that seemed to lurk everywhere and even dart back and forth among the trees. I thought I heard the faraway chittering of some unknown animal, and I thought I saw a pair or red eyes staring at me, but it was probably my imagination. As long as it stayed faraway, I was all right with that.
I came out of the woods and built my small campfire not far from the gate, hoping the baron wouldn’t object to the smoke drifting over the wall into the courtyard. I took one of my omega pills, just in case the baron might come out of his castle sometime during the night to confront me. I desperately hoped Barbarosa had been right about him being attracted to my omega nature. I wanted to leave nothing to chance, because I was out of money now, with literally nowhere left to turn. If the baron didn’t give me a job inside his household, I didn’t know what I was going to do.
Tired and dispirited, I drew up my hood, wrapped the other quilt around me and prepared to endure the long, lonely night ahead. My last thought before sleep found me was whether or not Wyatt might be close by, within those castle walls. The idea gave me a little comfort, though, and I drifted off to sleep.
