Sadie

Golden leaves danced past the window of the little cottage. Olmdere seemed to hang in a state of perpetual autumn. In Highwick, it would still be summer, and—though I wouldn’t admit it to anyone—I missed the bloom of flowers, the scent of silver stones baking in the sunshine, the iced drinks and bounty of summer fruits, all while lazing in the shade of the forest and swimming in the streams. It was a brutal place sometimes, but not all of it had been evil. Not all of my childhood as a high-ranked member of the Silver Wolf pack had been bad. But everything I’d known—evil or not—had been ripped away from me now, and I was sure I’d never go back.

It felt like I was falling through midair and the ground never rose to meet me. I didn’t belong to my former pack anymore. And as horrible as that was, even worse was the thought that I didn’t feel like I belonged here, either.

“So you’ve decided on sulking forever then?”

Maez asked through a mouthful of lentil stew.

“I’m not sulking,”

I muttered in a voice that would be definitively classified as “sulky.”

Briar pulled a skillet of corn bread from the fire and placed it on the stone windowsill to cool. “You’re avoiding my twin, Sadie,”

she said, glancing over her shoulder at me. “And your Queen.”

“Your twin and my Queen are one and the same,”

I said bitterly. “Stop being so dramatic.”

I assessed Briar’s red hair braided back off her face, her bright blue eyes, and long lean frame. She didn’t look much like her twin, Calla, now the Queen of the Golden Court. Now my Queen, too, as everyone seemed to feel the need to remind me.

It still felt odd. I thought I’d be a member of the Silver Wolf pack for the rest of my life. I was one of the royal guards—the elite. I was meant to live and die protecting the Silver Wolf throne . . . and I had accepted that.

Now, I wasn’t a member of any pack at all, but rather a court, one comprised of both human and Wolf. It was a good change, and yet it still left me reeling. Was it possible to miss something even if it was wrong?

Everything felt tight as a bowstring. Every day we waited for King Nero to attack and the war he promised to begin in earnest, but there was nothing but silence from the Damrienn border.

When a Wolf is silent, that means it’s hunting.

So we all idled by in a tension-filled routine. Planning. Waiting. Rebuilding.

Briar cleared her throat, and I spotted the silent conversation whizzing between her and Maez. Her eyes widened as she jutted her chin in my direction and mouthed something I couldn’t quite make out.

“If I’m ruining your mating bliss, just say so,”

I grumbled, pushing to a stand.

Maez shot to her feet across from me. “Sit,”

she commanded as if I was still a puppy. She picked up her spoon again and resumed eating. “I know you came here for more than my mate’s famous corn bread. Talk.”

I sighed, lifting a hand to rub across my face and then thinking better of it in case I got spice in my eyes. Then these two would think I was crying and that’s the last thing I fucking needed. I wasn’t a Wolf who got her heart broken by anyone—let alone a human. I was a warrior and now one of Queen Marriel’s official guards . . . well, I would be if I spent any time at the castle actually performing my duties instead of drinking every Olmderian tavern dry, definitely not thinking about a human.

My hair and clothes still reeked of ale from the night spent at the tavern . . . several nights, weeks even, if I was being honest. I’d spent the rest of my time since Sawyn’s death at Maez and Briar’s cottage, not because I particularly liked cottages or the puppy eyes they constantly made at each other, but because the palace reminded me of the battle and a certain tall musician who occupied even more of my dark thoughts than the pack I’d lost.

“You can’t avoid the castle forever,”

Maez said, already knowing my line of thought.

“I know it’s become a sore spot between me and Calla,”

I muttered. “It’s just been . . . a lot.”

“Does she know that?”

Briar asked pointedly, tossing a dish towel over her shoulder and untying her apron. She was the picture of rural bliss, looking even more regal in this little cottage than she did in a castle. More, she looked happy.

“Maybe it’s a one-sided sore spot,”

I muttered, pulling out the knife from my thigh belt and flicking it back and forth.

Maez’s hand shot out and covered my own, pinning my wrist to the table and ceasing my knife fidgeting. “Look,”

she said. “We all think Navin is a piece of shit.”

“Mm-hmm,”

Briar agreed as she sauntered over with a pitcher of lemonade.

“But,”

Maez continued. “He’s a piece of shit that you’re going to have to get over without stabbing someone . . . or my mate’s carefully selected new table.”

I yanked my wrist away and sheathed my knife, knowing I was moping and hating myself for it. “Nothing ever even happened between us,”

I said tightly. “A few chaste kisses and nothing more. I’m acting like such a bloody fool and I hate it, but I can’t settle into this life here. Everything about it chafes. I just . . . I don’t know.”

“A human would’ve never satisfied you,”

Maez continued. “You would’ve dropped him like day-old bread after one roll in the sheets. You like the tough ones, Sads—a human who wears daisies embroidered on his lapel is never going to work out.”

“Yeah. You’re right.”

I blew my bangs out of my eyes from the corner of my mouth. I really needed to trim them but couldn’t summon the fucks to give to do so. “There weren’t exactly a lot of places for us to sneak off to on a moving wagon, and the one night I thought we’d have together we got captured by Silver Wolves . . . and then his face got smashed in.” The memory of that horror flooded through me, and I was once again reminded that Navin was not as strong as the Wolves. I shoved up from the table into a stand, feeling a little more in control. “You’re right.” I said it with more confidence this time. “He and I were a bad idea from the start. There’s no way we could’ve lasted.” My shoulders shook with bitter laughter. “He was never strong enough for me.”

“Yes,”

Briar said as Maez slapped the table and shouted, “Damn straight.” I thanked the sweet moon for my friends and their unerring—if not overzealous—support.

Their words were finally sticking. Navin was a sad little human who chose to protect his Rook brother over me in battle. Of course he’d chosen his own kind, just like I would choose mine now.

Yep, I absolutely believe all of that.

“Thank you.”

I whirled with newfound bravado, reaching for the door.

“Anytime,”

Briar said, and Maez added, “Well, not anytime. Maybe let’s plan a time for you to drop by next—Ow!” Without looking, I knew Briar had smacked her by the sound. I wondered how many intimate moments I’d interrupted over the last few months.

As I opened the door, I found my brother, Hector, with his fist raised, poised to knock. Looks like I wasn’t the only one interrupting the newly reunited mates.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

Hector shook his head at my attire, a constant disapproving frown on his face. He wore his new royal armor: black battle leathers with plated gold accents. He looked both royal and lethal, a deadly combination of elegance and strength. I, however, was out of uniform, favoring plain brown trousers and a tunic that came down to mid-thigh that hid the plethora of weapons I wore underneath.

“The Queen has summoned you,”

he said sharply in that scolding brotherly voice he used whenever I’d pissed him off. Why did my only sibling and I both have to take up the family business of fighting for a living? Why couldn’t he have been a baker or something?

“Great,”

I muttered, shooting over my shoulder to Briar and Maez, “I’m being summoned.”

“Yes—queens can do that,”

Hector said.

“Oof,”

Maez said.

“Good luck,”

Briar added.

I couldn’t dance around it anymore. Calla would make me face them. They’d probably strip me of my title and kick me out. I had been ignoring my responsibilities to Calla for long enough, losing myself in taverns and gambling halls, trying to forget all the ways I’d betrayed myself. Maybe this was a good thing, then. Be done with the farce and focus on getting really, truly, stupidly drunk.

Hector stepped to the side to let me pass. I skirted around him, not wanting to look him in the eyes. His very presence felt like one giant “I told you so,”

and I didn’t need him gloating over the pain in my chest that I refused to name.

I stormed off down the cottage path, lined with autumnal flowers in burgundies and marigolds that Briar had so carefully curated like she was a whimsical fucking faery. I fought the urge to stomp through the beds like the grumpy storm cloud I was. Time to face the consequences of my actions. Time for the punishment I’d been waiting on this last month as I frittered away my coins on a mission to find the bottom of every bottle of Olmderian wine. Time to lose this newfound family I’d done nothing to deserve.

With Hector at my back like my own bloody executioner, I made my way back through the forest and toward the city, dreaming of slitting Navin’s throat for making me feel this way . . . and then slitting my own for having such a thought.

I tried to waylay Hector with the promise of drinks on me at his favorite local tavern of choice, but he was having none of it. My big brother marched me through the forest on the outskirts of Olmdere City, and I walked tethered to him like a horse with an invisible lead rope.

His silence was practically saying, At least one of us can honor our duties.

I could not let such a lack of statement go unchallenged. “So how’s your human?”

I muttered, storming through the deep leaves with an ever-quickening pace.

“She’s not my anything,”

Hector said tightly. “Not yet at least.”

“But you want her to be,”

I prodded with the deft ability of a sibling who knew exactly how to get under her brother’s skin. “You’ve grown close since her sister’s passing.”

Mina had stayed behind when Galen den’ Mora rolled out of Olmdere, both to grieve the death of her twin, Malou, and to help Calla with the reconstruction. She now sat on the queen’s council and advised Calla on all sorts of issues. I’d been too busy with my own pursuits to notice my brother’s closeness to her before. But since her sister died at the hands of Sawyn, Hector, of all people, seemed to be there the most to pick up the pieces.

“Bringing up her sister’s passing is low even for you,”

Hector said. “You act as if I’m only comforting her to gain something.”

“Aren’t you?”

Hector grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around. “First off, screw you for ever thinking that of me. Second, enough of this, Sadie,”

he growled, a hint of his Wolf coming out as he spoke. Two humans walking down the forest path in the other direction gave us a wide berth. “You’ve always been a bitch, but now you’re just downright cruel.”

“Keep pursuing her, and you’ll find I’m relatively mild in comparison to what you’ll get from others,”

I said, instinctively grabbing one of the knives from my thigh belt and flicking it back and forth. Sweet Moon, I wished I could stab it into someone right now, preferably a tall bronze-eyed musician.

“I’m not a sk—”

He caught himself before he said it, but we both knew the words about to tumble out of his mouth: “skin chaser.”

It was an insult slung at Wolves who cavorted with humans. Now, as members of a Wolf-human court instead of a pack, those words didn’t apply here, and yet I still couldn’t shake them. Whether I wanted it or not, the shadow of everything I was raised to believe loomed over me. Losing those beliefs wasn’t as easy as shedding a too-tight coat. Layer upon layer and I still found myself wincing at the insult skin chaser.

I certainly didn’t want my brother to have to go through that, too.

Still, I couldn’t just say that to him—I was a bitch, after all. So I pulled out of Hector’s grip and kept walking, hating how he and I both still acted more like Silver Wolves than Golden Courtiers. “No talking about your human,”

I said more to myself than my brother. “Touchy subject. Got it. Not that it will matter after Calla banishes me for ignoring my duties.”

“Look.”

Hector cut in front of me again. “I know this has been hard. All of it. But I’m here, for what it’s worth, and I will always have your back.”

“Aw, don’t,”

I said, giving him a smack on the shoulder and clearing my throat. “Rauxtides don’t do feelings.”

He chuckled. “True.”

We wound our way through the forest as views of Olmdere City peeked through the autumnal foliage. A long row of white boats sat nestled on the eastern shores of the lake for the night. Only two punters were still working, sitting on the bow of one boat playing cards. During the day, the boats ferried people all around the city: to the northern end with rolling gardens and cottages, the eastern quarter with its theaters and restaurants, the southern streets that were packed with workshops and trade stalls, and the western markets where you could buy just about anything your heart desired.

Despite my prickly state, I still appreciated the capital of the Golden Court every time I walked through it: the gold-flecked red stones, the towering domed architecture, the old dusty bricks, and the sound of the river rushing through the city never too far away.

My neck craned further as the castle rose above the last stretch of woodland between us and the city. The striking gold-flecked stone that comprised most of the city was also used in the castle construction, but with much more gold embellishments and detailing. It was clear the Gold Wolves of old were as rich as thieves, having made good use of the gold mines of Sevelde—much to the humans’ peril. But that was part of what Calla was trying to change. Tearing down the castle wasn’t going to change that, though—not that it would be easy to do anything to the castle: the stones were expertly cut and arranged, forming intricate patterns that caught the light and seemed to glow more in the fading sun.

“Do you think the sight will ever stop filling us with awe?”

Hector asked as if he’d heard my thoughts.

The castle of our birthplace, Damrienn, was enormous and formidable, but it was also sharp and cold, nothing like the warmth that seemed to seep from this castle, open and welcoming. Still, part of me yearned for that coldness and for the unquestionable sense of belonging that came with it.

“This, this is our home now, Sadie,”

Hector added, and it made my already tight lips curve downward.

“Home,”

I echoed. It certainly didn’t feel that way. I had no clue what home was meant to feel like, in fact. Maybe the feeling was just a made-up faery story.

Our family’s townhouse in the city of Damrienn never felt like home, nor did this giant castle, despite Calla’s best efforts to make it feel like ours. Briar and Maez’s cottage felt homey but didn’t feel like mine. Goddess, even that roving wagon had felt more right compared to the intricate adornments of castle life, but that wasn’t it, either. I would have taken a seat in the wagon in a heartbeat rather than be here, though. I was done playing the games of kings and queens. I couldn’t just sit on my hands and politic for the rest of my life. I wanted to move, wanted to roam, wanted to fight.

We plunged back into the forest, taking the last little deer trail toward the boats as the sun set. As if summoned from my thoughts alone, a structure caught my eye. I squinted into the shadows, seeing the arched roof of a giant wagon through the trees, and my heart met my throat. The last thing I wanted was to be anywhere near it. Near him. I would have gladly ignored it, thinking I might have actually conjured it in my mind. Maybe I’d finally lost my mind, and I was about to thank all the wine I’d drank the last month . . .

But then I smelled it.

Hector stiffened beside me. “Blood,”

he said, sniffing the air and confirming my fears.

I started running toward the wagon, my mind racing to catch up to my feet. As we darted through the thick undergrowth, a body appeared on the narrow path. His long frame, tattered velvet clothes, and scent like old song sheets and resin . . . With that scent, the memories hit me harder than I’d ever remembered them.

“Navin!”

I screamed, darting the last stretch of forest. My knees squelched into the muddy ground as I dropped in front of Navin, all my anger replaced by ice-cold dread. He was so caked in mud and dried blood that I didn’t recognize him at first, only his telltale scent shot through me like a poisoned arrow: Navin. He was here. In Olmdere.

Hurt.

Relief coursed through me as Navin lifted a shaking hand, and I thanked all the Gods that he was alive. I’d hate him later, wish him death again, once I was certain he was alive. I didn’t care about the hypocrisy. Right now, I just needed him to be alive.

Navin’s hands slid under his chest and he tried to push himself to a seated position, but he collapsed back to the forest floor. My eyes scanned over his body, searching for the wound.

“Ora,”

Navin panted. “They’re gone. Taken—taken by . . .”

“What?”

Hector barked, rushing over to Navin’s other side. “Who? Who took Ora?”

“Wolves,”

he groaned.

Hector perked up, alert, looking around. Sniffing. He paused a moment, but then shook his head.

The Wolves were gone.

Not that I cared. “Where are you hurt?”

I begged, searching for the slash marks in his clothes, trying to discern where the blood was coming from.

A small wooden instrument that looked like a tapered flute still remained clutched in one of his hands. Navin swayed up onto his knees, his shaking grime-covered hands dropping the flute and reaching out to me. He cupped my cheeks and leaned his forehead against my own, taking a deep breath like a Wolf scenting the air. I hated that my eyes pinpricked with tears, but I couldn’t stop it. Nothing about how I felt about him had ever been in my control. The same relief bracketed his expression before his eyes clenched closed. His body trembled as he whispered, “Sadie,”

and collapsed.

I caught Navin’s long torso in my arms, slowing his fall as I teetered over with him.

“We need to get him to a healer,” I barked.

“What does it mean?”

Hector asked, frowning down at Navin. “Do you think the Silver Wolves took Ora to retaliate somehow?”

“Hector,”

I snapped as I slung one of Navin’s arms over my shoulder. Navin groaned, barely clinging to consciousness. “Help me.”

My brother, seeming to remember himself, burst into action and helped me lift Navin to his feet. “The boats are just through there,”

he said. “We’ll take him to Calla.”

“Fucking Moon.”

I let out a shaking breath.

Hector kept his gaze focused on the shoreline. The boatman saw us and leapt from the gunnel of his boat to help us get Navin inside. “If the Silver Wolves really took Ora, Calla’s going to start a war to get them back,”

Hector muttered.

“Good,”

I said. “It’s about damn time.”