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“Beautiful name,” they said. “I’m Ora, palizya of this home.”
Palizya. It roughly translated to “owner,” but the Valtan word was reserved for those who were neither man nor woman, and used the-yaendings to their titles. Though the humans spoke the same languages as the Wolves in their kingdoms, they had many more words that Wolves were forbidden to use. Valta had eight different words for gender, but the Onyx Wolves, like all Wolves, only ever used two. It was just another way the Wolves and humans were different, even when they lived in the same lands.
“Hi,” I said, grimacing as I sheepishly lowered my knife.
Ora swept their maroon scarf over their shoulder and extended a hand out to me. I’d seen no one like them before. They had dark hair that fell in waves around their shoulders. Permanent smile lines etched into their brown skin. Kohl lined their dark bronze eyes, red paint covered their lips, and dark stubble covered their jaw.
I took Ora’s hand and stepped out of the luggage compartment. Dusting myself off, I looked warily at them, wondering if they were going to strike me or scold me.
“Don’t worry.” Ora chuckled. “You would be far from the first to stow away on this wagon. That’s how we found half our crew.”
I furrowed my brow, looking through the open doorway to the high fabric ceiling of the wagon. I hadn’t had time to appreciate the sheer size of it the night before, and that’s when I had even first mistaken it for a house. It was easily two stories high, taller than any tavern I’d seen. Rows of shelves and ladders lined the walls. A loft sat at the far end and below it were cushion-covered trunks circled around a table turned into a makeshift seating area. To the right, curtains sectioned off the back half of the wagon. Not a single spot was bare, the space crammed with trinkets, plants, and exotic fabrics.
“Welcome to Galen den’ Mora.” Ora waved their hand around the space and I realized I was still gaping.
Galen den’ Mora. It meant “a wandering song.”
“You’re musicians?” I asked, spotting the hard leather cases on one shelf beside a tray of resin and baskets of broken strings.
“What gave us away?” Ora smirked. “Do you play? We’re heading up to Nesra’s Pass. I’m guessing you’re headed toward Taigos, too?”
My lip stung as I gave a half-smile and nodded. I’d have to pass through the Ice Wolf kingdom to get to Olmdere, and now it seemed I might have a way to do that.
“You can ride with the rest of us in the lower cabin.” Ora beckoned, their jewelry clinking together with each movement. “Unless you prefer to ride in a trunk?” They smiled wide as I shook my head no. “Didn’t think so. Let’s meet the others—Navin is driving the oxen in the front.”
I clenched my hands in my pockets. I wanted to trust them, but after the past few days, the feeling of my knife comforted me. Ora led me into the wagon, pulling back the curtains to the sunken seating area.
Two sets of gray eyes watched me under thick, long lashes.
“Ha!” The one on the right barked out a laugh, throwing cards down onto the chest. “I knew we’d get a stowaway in Pinewood.”
The one across from her wore a matching red satin dress, both with low-scooped necks and a thin golden belt under their busts in the Rikeshi style—the largest of the floating islands of Valta. They each had thick brunette hair tied back with red ribbons, bright gray eyes, and brown skin. Mirrors of each other, they even sat in the same position.
“This is Mina and Malou.” Ora gestured to them. “The newest additions to Galen den’ Mora.”
“We’ve been with you for three years.” Malou scoffed. “There’s nothing new about us. We’ve been everywhere on the continent together.”
Mina put her finger to the corner of her mouth in gesture to her sister.
“Ah yes. Nearly,” Malou said, nodding to her twin. “Once we get to Olmdere, then we can claim that.”
My ears perked up as I dropped onto the couch beside Malou. “You’re going to Olmdere?”
“Haven’t you heard?” Ora’s voice dropped to a whisper as they leaned across the chest. “Sawyn has found the last Gold Wolf.”
My heart punched into my chest. “What?”
“We found out last night,” Malou said, her lips stretching into a mischievous grin.
The news had spread that fast?
“They say she placed the Crimson Princess under a sleeping curse,” Ora said.
“How wicked,” Malou added with a chuckle. “The same fate as her mother. Though I doubt true love’s kiss will save this Marriel.”
I frowned at her. It was just a bit of gossip to them. Sawyn’s actions were just stories to tell around a campfire. The tales of the sorceress had once felt that distant even to me, but now... The image burned into my mind of Briar’s vacant face as Sawyn’s magic cursed her. Those same bolts of power had killed my father, I knew, but it hadn’t felt real until that moment. These weren’t some tall tales. Dark magic was real and real people were hurt by it.
“So you’re going to Olmdere because she cursed the princess?” I tried to hide the haunted hollowness in my voice. Maybe they’d think it was just nerves, being in this strange new space.
