Chapter 46

CHAPTER 46

Conri takes me back to his chambers. He says nothing of what happened. Nothing at all.

Neither does Aurora. Upon seeing us, she stands from her place at the hearth, eyes darting between us. Her chin dips slightly, brow shading her gaze in an utterly sinister manner. She knows everything without my having to say a word.

She stands there, silent, as Conri calls in women. I can't tell if I don't actually recognize them, or if my mind is too far from the present to place their faces. Even as they touch me, stripping my clothes to expose my skin to the chill of the caves, I continue to stare into the distance—at a singular point that I vow to myself I will one day see:

Evander and me together, underneath a redwood, swearing our fealty to each other before gods old and new. Spirits known and forgotten.

That is the world I place my mind in. A world of light. Of hope. A truth that I know will come to pass because the moment I waver in that conviction, the nightmare begins to close around me, shuttering out my options and smothering my will.

When the women are finished with me, my hair is woven with ribbons, braids pulling half into a basketlike weave. The other half is loose, oiled, and teased into finger-curls. Perfume clouds the air around me with the delicate aroma of the wildflowers that dot the plains. An almost translucent, plain white shift covers my shoulders and arms, extending down to mid-thigh, just above my knees. It does little to fight against the cold, but I don't shiver, I'm far too numb.

But I return to the present in a rush the moment they try and take my cape from me. Take whatever they want, but not my family's legacy and my sole inheritance. Luckily, they don't fight me over my insistence on keeping it.

There's no time to.

I'm being ushered out of the back bedroom. Aurora is waiting with knights. But Conri is nowhere to be seen. We are escorted out and into the passageway. I imagine myself to be a soldier, marching off to war.

A year passes between Conri's room and the entrance to the grove. And yet, somehow it's over in a blink. The grove is lit by dozens of candles that line the pathway down to the grassy clearing.

The packs fill the spaces between the trees. Lykin look on with curious expressions. Will it really happen? Will our wolf king marry a human? they seem to ask with their eyes. Alphas have been given the most prime locations, on the lower ridge surrounding the clearing where Conri waits.

He wears a wrap of fur that looks distinctly wolfish. Are they the pelts of actual wolves, or of lykin? The latter thought makes my stomach churn. Such a thing would be akin to wearing a cape made of human skin. Surely, he would not … What am I thinking? This is Conri. He absolutely would wear the skin of his fallen foes.

The gap between us closes, though I don't have a recollection of walking to him. My feet betray every scream of my heart as they come to a stop at the edge of the large, flat stone he stands upon. Conri extends a hand to me.

I allow him to help me up, adjusting my stance on the boulder that feels more and more like a sacrificial altar than rock. He turns to Aurora next and she takes his hand. Somewhere between Aurora stepping up and her taking her place on Conri's other side, a soft clanking draws my attention.

Evander is here, and the sight of him returns fire to my flesh. Heat fighting against the numbing chill. Conri made good on his sinister design. Evander's chains are held by three knights. More surround him. He's been gagged, a wad of cloth shoved into his mouth and strapped there. Rage furrows his brow and desperation widens his eyes.

Even if we both knew what was about to happen…the moment is nearly unbearable. This is somehow worse than that empty cabin Evander left behind for me to find. Then, the unknown was what tortured me. All that space of nothing that my mind could fill with any explanation. Some worse. Some easier. But all could be banished in time. None of it solid with reality.

This…is happening. It will become a memory that will be forever seared onto our consciousness. There is no escaping what is about to happen. The point of no return for us both. I run my fingers along the edges of my cape, the familiar seaming offering comfort more than protection.

Conri turns to the large boulder—nearly a small cliff—that looms over the grove. As he outstretches both hands, a low wind howls through the trees. But the air is still… No, not wind . The lykin themselves howl. Whispers at first. But then louder as Conri raises his hands. When he thrusts his palms skyward, as if to hold the very moon itself aloft, Conri lets out a scream-like howl that the rest of them join with him in.

Then, a voice rises above the rest. It rattles the air in my lungs, leaving me gasping. Even Aurora shifts her stance, widening it, as if bracing herself. The greatest howl of all is the call of the wild itself.

Mist pours over the crest of the ridge, flowing down like a waterfall and pooling into the grove. It races through the trees, sending rivers out toward the Lykin Plains and leaving me to wonder if this is the actual source of the consistently mist-covered grasslands.

Two twilight-gray ears crest the ridge first, followed by eyes as white as the full moon, glowing with unnatural light. The muzzle of the wolf is white, as if the spirit ages with time. He moves slowly, as though every step causes him great pain. For a muscled beast as long as fifty paces, I would expect the ground to tremble under his mighty paws. But he moves without a whisper.

Ulfryk lowers himself to the top of the ridge, paws folding. The spirit manages to look somehow intrigued and yet exhausted at the same time. Even though his eyes lack any kind of irises or pupil, I can feel when his attention lands on me. Punctures me. He sees right through my flesh and bone to Aurora's magic within, and with that stare alone, he could set it to boiling. I am judged and exposed.

The great wolf spirit settles his muzzle on one of his massive paws as he lowers himself to the ground. The air around him seems to shift from intimidating to boredom, and somehow that is even more agitating. As if Aurora and I are not even significant enough for him to care.

"What have you brought before me, king of mortal wolves?" The words are a low grumble in the back of my mind. The great wolf spirit speaks without moving his giant maw.

"It is time for me to take a wife." Conri's answer confirms my suspicion—they can understand this spirit. Perhaps because Ulfryk's magic is within them.

"A human?" The spirit's ears twitch. Once more I sense his eyes on me.

"A human with the power of the moon spirit within her."

"An interesting conundrum."

The notion of begging this spirit for help briefly flashes through my mind. Surely, when presented with a need to help his kind, this spirit wouldn't turn his back, would he? I open my mouth, but close it promptly, remembering what Aurora said. She is still and silent. If she's not making any movements toward seeking help then neither will I. Aurora might be his kin, but the lykin are his children. Ulfryk's loyalties are clear.

"I will make her my bride—in spirit, body, and blood," Conri declares. "Here and now, as your descendant and spiritual heir, I ask you to preside over and bless our union and join our souls."

A low growl, almost like an amused hum, vibrates through the back of my mind. Ulfryk shifts just slightly, but it's enough that I get the sense his gaze is solely on Aurora. Especially when she stands a little taller.

"Is this your doing?" the great wolf asks.

"I might be powerful, brother—perhaps even more powerful than you." Aurora's jab is met with a flash of amusement in the wolf's eyes that could just as easily be read as a warning. "But you know as well as I that not even my powers can touch the work of the gods."

"I would prefer not to delay." Conri's agitation is as apparent as his obliviousness.

There's something amiss. Something that none of us had been calculating for or planning on. It's beginning to crystalize in my mind like the frosted edges of a lake, not quite fully connected. Not solid. But almost …

"Wolf king, if it were within my powers to bind your union, I would. But, alas, it is not." The wolf spirit doesn't seem to be particularly distraught about the subject. My perspective of the spirit is shifting, from a malicious image to that of an ancient being that has little care for much of anything. But ambivalence is its own malice.

"What?" The whispered word falls flat from Conri's lips. Heavy. I can almost imagine it toppling off the flattened stone on which we stand. Then, stronger, "What have you done?" He turns to Aurora.

"Did you not hear me? I have done nothing." She folds her arms and looks quite proud.

Conri whirls on me next, rage nearly bubbling over. It's only contained when he looks back to Ulfryk. "Oh, great wolf spirit, why is it not within your powers?" Each word is bitten out, terse and short.

"Because I cannot bind a soul that is already bound," Ulfryk answers plainly. "I cannot give you a mate that has already been claimed."