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Grae pulled his hood up again, hiding his visage in shadow as I scanned the dreary stone buildings. I wouldn’t miss this drab little town. The haggard faces of villagers watched us as we climbed the hill. The townsfolk had always been wary of Vellia, and Briar and I by association. An old lady living alone in the woods garnered rumors she was a sorceress. Little did they know, Vellia was indeed magical, but she was no witch.
The road inclined, steeper with each step. I welcomed the pleasant burn of my muscles as I hastened to keep up with Grae’s long legs. I savored this last moment together, just the two of us. I peeked at him, unable to see his eyes from the shadows of his hood, but somehow knowing he looked back at me. Despite all my eagerness to leave, I would miss this—two friends without titles or grand destinies. That daydream would end as soon as we reached the hidden cabin in the woods where his betrothed waited.
We hurried along, yet all I wanted to do was linger. I couldn’t do that, though. Not to Grae. Not to Briar.
All things must come to an end—even if it’s just a walk through the woods.
Two
The dense canopy high above us cast cool shadows down the forest trail. My fingers brushed over the moss dripping from the trees as we fell into easy conversation. We crunched through the leaves, following the thin rivulets the carriage wheels carved down the path. Grae told me the latest news from Damrienn. Drought had hit the farms over the summer and his father was even more surly than usual, but the city had the upcoming wedding to buoy their spirits. News had apparently spread like wildfire that the Crimson Princess was not only alive but also about to marry their crown prince.
Rumors had swirled for years that the last of the Gold Wolf line yet lived, that the Marriel princess named Briar had survived the fateful night of her birth... but no one whispered about another named Calla. The world had searched for my twin sister these twenty long years, but I remained a shadow behind the dream of the Crimson Princess. After two decades, we would finally be able to reveal our secret: not one Marriel survived that night, but two.
Not that I thought the world would care all that much—they’d still focus everything on Briar, as they should. I was very content to let her bear all the scrutiny of court life while I watched—and plotted—from the shadows.
Grae reached out and hooked his finger along the chain of my necklace. He pulled until the amber stone lifted above my neckline and smiled. “You still wear it.”
“Of course I do,” I said, my skin tingling where his knuckle grazed my collarbone. “When a prince gives you a protection stone, you wear it.”
His cheeks dimpled. “Does Briar still wear hers?”
“Yes.”
“Liar.” He chuckled, snapping a budding white flower off a low branch and passing it to me. “I can smell the lie on you as easily as I smell the perfume in the trees.”
I scanned through the summer forest, resplendent with flowers. The woods surrounding our cabin were filled with as many memories as the cabin itself. Every full moon of our youth, Briar and I would prowl into the dark forest, hoping Grae would appear. That was seven years ago... I still had his last correspondence in my dresser drawer. Along with his letters came two necklaces—a ruby for Briar and an amber for me. I had wondered if Grae had selected the stones for the shades of our hair every time I had read my now-crinkled letter. Briar’s letter was two pages long, but mine was only a brief paragraph:
My father has sent me to Valta for schooling. I will be unable to visit for the foreseeable future, but I’m sure I’ll have even more stories to share when I do. This is a protection stone. Wear it always. I’m sorry, little fox. Don’t forget me. G
I toyed with my delicate amber pendant along its thin gold chain. How could he think I would forget him? He was my first andonlyfriend I hadn’t shared a womb with. Seven years since I’d seen him or heard his tales of magic and monsters. Seven years since we’d chased each other through the forests or shared our hopes for the future. It had hurt more than I’d liked to admit that no more letters came...
The summer’s swollen moon, hidden in the clear blue sky, pulled on me. Soon it would be full, and the urge to transform would overwhelm me once more. Most of the time I could control it, but the days leading up to the full moon set every Wolf on edge... and that was before my current rarefied state.
“Do you remember the story of the necklace?”
I swirled the stem of the flower in my hands. The cloying, sweet aroma wafted around us as we ambled through the woods. “It was your great-grandmother’s dying wish that her children be protected from harm. A family heirloom now.” As I remembered his recent tragedy, I rested a hand on Grae’s forearm, the feeling making my whole body buzz as I said, “I heard about your mother’s passing. I’m so sorry.”
“It was many years ago.” His eyes scanned my face before he stepped out of my touch.
My heart ached at that little movement. I knew it meant he didn’t want to talk about his mother. The baker had told me that Queen Lucrecia had died a week after our necklaces arrived. I’d wanted to flee to Highwick and find Grae the second I’d heard, and probably would have if Briar hadn’t hugged me so close, whispering soothing words into my ears. I was devastated for him.
“Do you remember any of my other faery stories?” Grae asked, changing the subject.
“All of them,” I murmured. I cleared my throat as his cheeks dimpled. “The cleaved peak, the ever-sailing ship, the gold mines of Sevelde... of juvlecks and ostekkes and other monsters that even the myths and songs seem to have forgotten.”
Of course I remembered them all. I had pestered him to tell them over and over, always begging for another story. And, in the long years since I last saw him, I repeated them in my mind, imagining the sound of his voice.
I tucked the white flower behind my ear. “What do you remember of your visits here?”
He sighed, closing his eyes. “Games of chase, the sound ofyour laughter in my mind.” His grin widened. “And your many secret words.”
“Code words,” I corrected. “In case we need to flee.”
“I think shouting ‘run’ would be just as effective.” He chuckled, clasping his hands behind his back and slowing to a creeping pace. Maybe he didn’t want this moment to end as much as me.
“I don’t think shouting ‘run’ is particularly stealthy.” I teased, tapping my forefinger to my chin in mock contemplation. “Our current one is ‘quiver,’ by the way.”
He barked out a laugh. “How would one stealthily work the word ‘quiver’into a sentence without being detected?”
