Calla

Our stagnant lives of playing Queen Ingrid’s guests morphed into action at the arrival of Nero’s message. I barely registered Hector’s words of warning, only knowing we needed to get to the great hall and the messenger awaiting us. If Nero was willing to trade Ora, if there was a flicker of hope of getting my friend back, I’d have to take it.

“Easy,”

Grae said from a half step behind me, rushing to keep up with my eager pace. “You might have to say no, little fox. You don’t know the conditions yet.”

Hector grunted in agreement from the rear of our trio as we raced down the corridor.

“It’s Ora,” I said.

“Yes,”

Grae called out behind me. “And it’s Nero.”

Damn him for being so astute. Yet I didn’t stop. Our footsteps echoed through the silent castle, slowing only when we entered the great hall where a lone Silver Wolf stood. A sliver of moonlight haloed the cloaked figure as it turned to face us.

Grae sniffed the air, thunder in his voice as he said, “Evres.”

Hector hung back by the doorway, his grip tight on the hilt of his sword, as Grae and I moved closer. The sound of my boots clicking across the white tiles ricocheted off the austere and sparse expanse. I halted just before the silver carpet that ran the length of the room to the throne, placing it like a gleaming river between us and Evres. Grae appeared at my side, looking like he wanted to shred the person in front of us with his bare hands.

Evres pulled his hood back, a cold smile on his face as he tipped his chin to us. I thanked the Moon that Grae and I were both already dressed and armed.

I considered King Nero’s new heir. Evres was just as tall as Grae, and despite him being leaner, his stance told me that he knew how to fight. The weapons on his hips were shined and gilded but used. His hair was shortly cropped, his features sharp, and his eyes were a shade of pewter that ringed his pupils like a shining eclipse. He was handsome in every sense, almost too much, an eerie mixture of pristine arrogance.

The perfect Silver Wolf, in other words.

Evres tilted his head, his fingers twitching by the hilt of his sword. “Graemon.”

His voice was a deep baritone that echoed through the shadowed hall.

“Nero doesn’t seem too precious about his new heir if he sent you alone,”

I said, drawing Evres’s silvery gaze.

Evres flashed a crooked smile. “Or perhaps he just has faith that you won’t kill a messenger offering to give you your friend back.”

He had a pinched air of pretension in the way he spoke as if him becoming king one day had always been an inevitability.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Ingrid blustered as she came in through a door behind the throne. “A midnight meeting between Olmdere and Damrienn conducted under my roof without me?”

“It is a simple message.”

Evres’s eyes roved the Queen up and down in a way that would have any other man thrown in the dungeons. “I didn’t want to interrupt your beauty sleep.”

Ingrid’s hair was tied up in ribbons atop her head, but she still looked regal in her fur-trimmed robe and satin slippers. She harrumphed at Evres’s statement, clearly familiar with him enough not to take offense. She perched impatiently on her ornate throne as if it were a tavern barstool. “Evres.”

She covered her mouth as she yawned. “I’d ask to what do we owe this pleasure, but my guards have roused me from my sleep due to the imprudent timing of your arrival so let’s be frank: Why are you here?”

“I have a message from the King for Marriel,”

Evres said, lifting his dimpled chin and grinning. It clearly wasn’t lost on Queen Ingrid nor me that he said “the King” as if Nero was ruler to us all. “Apologies, Ingrid”—again, the lack of title—“I would have announced myself to you first, but I ran into an old friend.” He winked at Hector and Hector scowled back, crossing his arms over his chest. Evres looked around the room and asked, “And where is my betrothed?”

My mouth fell open for a split second in shock before the rage kicked in. “She is not your anything—”

I started to shout but was silenced by Grae’s hand on my forearm, preventing me from drawing my sword and inciting a colossal incident. My mate inched closer to me, and I knew he was preparing to hold me back if necessary. Killing Evres would feel amazing for only a second but would stoke the battle fires between our courts for eternity.

“To my knowledge, the Crimson Princess is not yet betrothed,”

Evres said with a casual indifference that made my blood boil. “Are you to tell me otherwise?”

“You are correct—in that she’s most certainly not betrothed to you. She is mated to Maez Claudius,”

I snapped.

“The Moon Goddess doesn’t bless pack traitors,”

Evres shot back. “Whatever they had is now defunct by our laws.”

“Not by mine,”

I growled.

“This wolfish spat grows tiresome,”

Ingrid cut in. I glared at her, her indifference, her pomposity—both of these two needed someone to cut them down to size. I was imagining all the ways I would tear Evres apart if ever we met on the battlefield when Ingrid yawned again and asked, “What message has Nero sent?”

“His Majesty has agreed to return the human musician that harbored the traitor Marriel.”

Evres’s predatory eyes darted between us. “The one you’re so fond of—”

“Their name is Ora,” I hissed.

“A human is a human,”

Evres said with a shrug.

“What exactly does Nero want in exchange for the safe return of Ora?”

Grae asked before I could retort, putting particular emphasis on the word “safe.”

“Ten thousand crovers,”

Evres said.

“Done,”

I blurted out. We had ten times that much sitting under the castle—a trove the Silver Wolves clearly didn’t know anything about. The ransom was a lot of coin but surprisingly reasonable. I wondered if Nero was truly so desperate for more gold that he’d make such a low offer. With trade cut off and humans fleeing, maybe Damrienn was falling apart.

“I wasn’t finished,”

Evres replied with a chuckle. He cocked his patronizing head at me. “Ten thousand crovers and . . . your father’s inauguration crown.”

I gasped at the same time Grae snarled. Even Ingrid couldn’t hide her surprise. There was no reason for Nero to want my father’s crown except to gloat. I mostly wore my mother’s crown, the size fitting my head better, but my father’s crown sat atop a velvet pillow in the Olmdere grand hall. It was a symbol, a memory of my father, and a beautiful relic of my ancestors, and I knew Nero would use that symbol as a show of his power against us . . . but symbols weren’t going to save Ora’s life.

“Agreed,”

I muttered.

“Wait—”

Grae said, but I shook my head. I’m sure Nero had a reason for wanting the crown, but it was a symbol, not the actual mandate to rule. Whatever he thought the crown meant was nothing compared to Ora.

Evres smiled. I didn’t have a choice and he knew it. “Excellent.”

Ingrid gestured between us. “And where exactly will this trade take place?”

“You wouldn’t invite your Silver Wolf neighbors to Taigoska?”

Evres mocked, his eyes dancing with delight as he watched Ingrid squirm. “No, we’ll make the Olmderians do the traveling, hey, Ingrid?” The wink he gave Ingrid made a chill run down my spine. “Mount Achelon. Your castle there straddles the border of Taigos and Damrienn, does it not?”

“It does,”

Ingrid conceded. She seemed more than a little relieved at the location in the Stormcrest Ranges, so far from Taigoska. “Splendid idea. I will host the trade there on impartial territory.”

Evres hummed. “Good.”

He looked at me, his moonlight eyes cutting straight through me. “If you send word now, a wagon of gold should be able to reach there in the next week.” I didn’t reply, just stared at him coldly. “I’ll see you then, traitor.”

“And we’ll see you, whelp,”

Hector said.

But the insult—usually fighting words for Wolves—didn’t faze Evres. “Whelp, eh?”

As he turned, his body twisted and dropped, shifting with impressive speed into a Silver Wolf. He stepped forward and shook off the rest of the cloak. His silver fur matched the gleam of his eyes, his ears and snout tipped in midnight black, his paws nearly white as if dipped in snow. He was far more stout and muscular in his Wolf form. I made a note that he’d be much harder to outfight in our furs. I prayed to the Moon it wouldn’t come to that. He gave us one final look from those bright crystalline eyes and then turned and ran out the far archway of the hall, leaving us all staring at each other with hesitant expressions.

No, definitely not a puppy. And I hated that Hector had spoken out of turn.

My stomach dropped as Evres howled in the distance. I turned to Hector. “Send word to Olmdere. Ten thousand crovers and my father’s crown.”

“.”

Hector rocked back on his heels, his face strained. “Are you sure you want to—”

“Listen to your Queen.”

Grae pinned Hector with a vicious look, a quick sidelong glance to Ingrid indicating not here.

Hector’s cheeks flushed as he bowed and left. I tried to ignore that little interaction, that slight crack in Hector’s faith in me, the way he immediately obeyed Grae.

“Mount Achelon is a good location for a trade,”

Ingrid assured me. “The peak is too steep for a large force to attack. I’ll send guards there now to be on lookout. We will only permit a single Damrienn carriage up the mountain.”

“Regardless,”

I said. “I’m going to need more information on the mountain and schematics of your property there.”

“Yes. Yes.”

Ingrid rose on weary legs and waved me off. “In the morning.”

Her easy dismissal made me shrink another inch. I wished they would all respect me for the ruler I was, but more and more I was beginning to realize the only way to get through to Wolves was by force.

Well, if Briar had been raised for this aspect of politics, I was raised for force.