9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Tovi

T ovi glided on light feet through the Drengr Village, heading for a tavern with a warrior’s shield outside the front.

“It’ll be in the ground,” Kade had said. “Weathered, but there’s no missing the Drengr navy.”

A retired shield-maiden , Lucy, owned the tavern. Tovi shook her head, disbelief coursing through her. Werewolves treated females differently, but it was always a shock to see it firsthand. The respect. The equality. She marveled at it. She’d fought fangs-out to have female vampyrs own establishments back home, and yet they still faced prejudice, especially if they were unmated and independent. The sight of a squat, round establishment ahead, werewolves, witches, and a few humans coming and going, strengthened her strides.

Kade’s letter to Gray Fenris had detailed meeting at dusk, and by the way the sun hung over the mountains, rays reaching out to the jagged white peaks, she had less than an hour. She kept glancing at the sun, though, tallying its descent inch by inch. Her insides churned as her snowy hair whipped behind her. The haunt of when Riven planned to use Evelyn’s blood hung in the air, too, chillier than the winter evening .

Tovi battled a sense of urgency along with her nerves. Fingers numb. Mouth dry. She’d meet Kade’s infamous team alone. Over the years, she’d faced plenty of foes independently, yet this felt different. Her allies then had been vampyrs; she’d been unable to risk meeting with witches and werewolves, the price of failure too great. Riven had allies, too, ones who leaned into darkness. Who those allies were, she had never discovered. Tovi had had to be tactful, fearing her brother’s retaliation if he caught her red-handed, digging into his secrets. Instead, she’d waited and protected the promise of the prophecy. Her own secrecy and patience were two of the strongest weapons she’d wielded these last few decades.

She swallowed, attempting to set her shoulders back. Tovi had purchased new clothes in Nūa, a detour Kade had argued against. He didn’t understand the needs of a princess—pristine attire, not a hair out of line, schooled expression. Tovi hadn’t been a princess her entire life, but she’d been one a majority of it. How she presented herself mattered. Her appearance, her allure, her evident status.

Tovi never forgot she was a vampyr, one of the cursed things wreaking havoc on Sorin. An outfit that created an impression of a strong diplomatic presence would prove she was more than—as werewolves called it—a scáth. She’d chosen dark-green trousers, an unassuming color unlike yellow and one that complimented her pale skin and hair without drawing too much attention like red. That had been her mother’s favorite color as it attracted every eligible suitor in all of Drystan. More shivers ran up Tovi’s arms.

From the memory of hungry male gazes.

Her parents had changed when they became king and queen, the decades to come overshadowing their origins. Their political goals and ambitions had changed, but so too had their perception of Tovi. Her father no longer saw the hunter who’d fed their people in the beginning, but a bargaining chip in trade and alliance. Marriage . Her worth had whittled down to that of cattle, all because she was female. She’d retaliated, using her sex whenever she wanted, showing them it belonged to no one but her. Their ashamed gazes still haunted her, leaving a creep on the back of her neck like she was always being watched.

Judged.

Tovi bristled as flurries collected on the furs of her cloak and the tufts of Maxie’s ears. Evelyn’s familiar gave her a yellow-slitted stare. Neither enjoyed the makeshift sling Tovi had created, securing Maxie against her chest while they’d traveled across Sorin.

“Don’t give me that look, or I will eat you,” Tovi muttered.

She wouldn’t, of course, and Maxie looked away, unbothered as if she too knew Tovi’s threat to be empty. Out of all the things she and Kade had argued about the most, who took Maxie had secured top place. The phrase “worse than a demon” had been used by the werewolf commander, and keeping Maxie hidden like a tightly snug babe versus bringing her into the werewolf fortress had been the best plan of action.

Tovi rolled her eyes at Kade’s ridiculous assessment and the cat’s own aloofness, pulling her plum cloak closer, thankful the storekeeper in Nūa had been kind enough to enchant it clean of any dirt. She’d send Riven, the bastard, the cleaning bill. Tovi seethed. If her mother were alive, she wouldn’t bat an eye at what Riven had done. She’d twist the story so it was somehow Tovi’s fault.

If you were married, like your father and I desire, you wouldn’t be in these childish quarrels with your brother.

She exhaled, her breath coming out in a puff. Goddess, how she wished this was a silly, sibling quarrel, but Riven’s plan threatened to destroy their people and with it, Sorin. Hurt wrapped around her tired, ancient heart. How could someone she loved also be her enemy?

As muddy streets turned into stone ones, Tovi dismissed thoughts of her brother. Ahead, a shield made of brass bolts and rust-colored wood had been wedged into the dirt outside the tavern door. The battered shield had clearly seen many years, but the image burned into it remained visible from far away—three werewolves howling at the center of a moon .

Columns of redwood tree trunks framed the tavern’s doorway, and various watering pails had been used as planters. They sat under hazy tavern windows, filled to the brim with ferns.

Maxie squirmed against her chest as they entered, the rambunctious crowd jarring Tovi, too. Laughter and conversation boomed in the space. The clattering of clay cups and cheers resounded in the one-story tavern. The sight of axes, swords, and shields piled atop tables reminded her she’d entered an establishment packed to the seams with her enemy.

Not for long , Tovi assured herself. She had a plan—help rescue Evelyn and secure an alliance with the werewolves. Simple. Maybe. Probably not. She’d do her best to secure it, at least, starting with this meeting with the Gray Fenris first.

Sighing, Tovi headed towards the bar, keeping an eye out for colorful hair, a detail Kade had supplied to help her recognize his team. His healer, apparently, fashioned bright, dyed hair. A mage thing, he’d said . What color she’d chosen this season, he hadn’t the wildest guess. It changed so often, he couldn’t keep up, but his details were rather simple.

It’ll be bright, whatever color Linx decided on.

A woman, a foot taller than Tovi, pushed past with a tray of drinks.

Wine.

Bloody hel, a glass of wine. Tovi groaned. The promise of the notes of sharp tannins and black pepper and, oh , perhaps jammy blackcurrants added a pep to her step.

At the bar, Tovi searched the bottles on display. The numerous glasses glinted against the copper bar top. Hammered smooth and flat, blotches of green stains decorated it with a well-used charm. It reminded her of the Runaway Radish. Shutting her eyes, Tovi imagined Evelyn. Her laugh. Her smile. The wiggle of her brows when she teased. Even in Callum they’d managed to find time to share a drink, as if their friendship had picked up right where it left off.

Would sharing one while her friend was her brother’s captive be wrong ?

“I suggest the blueberry ale. Lucy’s summer supply is dwindling fast, and you won’t get another chance soon.”

An unwarranted shiver traveled down Tovi’s spine and tingled in her toes. The man—no, the werewolf by the scent of him—discussed ale, but the timbre of his voice was like a whisper of seduction.

Absolutely ridiculous.

She turned to face him, which was a catastrophic, foolish mistake, because he was sinfully handsome. With a clean-shaven square jawline and cropped brown hair with rivets of gold from the sun, tousled strands fell over his forehead as if he constantly ran his hands through it. Lean and tall, with agile muscle etched into his shoulders, arms, and torso, he stood with arms crossed. His severe stare gave her wicked thoughts.

She’d been staring, too, and had been far too silent for far too long, and her words came out rushed and wrong. “I… I don’t drink ale.” Tovi cursed. She’d sounded so pompous, so ugh, and she hadn’t meant to. “I’m sorry, what I meant to say is I prefer wine.”

The werewolf’s lips tugged into a playful smirk, and damn the Goddess, a dimple formed, molding his handsome, masculine face into a softer, brighter sight. Tovi blinked. Perhaps he wasn’t a werewolf, but a demon in disguise. There was no one in the living world who could be so beautiful and sharp at once.

“Sadly wine’s hard to come by in the Vadon Mountains, and Lucy prides herself on her personal brews.” The werewolf’s eyes roamed over her, green like the forest of the Vadon Mountains, as if the gods had mined the color and gifted him emerald gems for sight. “I take it you’re not from around here?”

His question brought Tovi back to the present. Right. She’d arrived at the Shield-maiden to find the Gray Fenris, not to converse with strangers, certainly not ones that made her stomach warm and fluttery.

“No, I’m not,” she said, flat and to the point .

She evaded his attention and searched for bright-colored hair again, but no one matched the description.

“Magu!” the tall woman from earlier beamed, rounding the bar.

Tovi swiveled towards him, Maxie’s claws clinging because she moved so quickly. Oh, no, no, no. Magu . The term broke the spell Tovi had fallen under, and she went rigid. She’d heard it before. A term of endearment her friend had used. It meant son to the werewolves, but not any son, the alpha’s son, the next in line.

Eldrick Drengr stood next to her.

Frigid fear rose through her already cold vampyr body. Kade had warned her no werewolf hated vampyrs more than his brother. They’d discussed it at length, to Tovi’s annoyance, and decided to keep her out of his sight. It felt contradictory to evade the next-in-line alpha of the Drengr pack if they were to be allies, but Kade had been adamant they didn’t have time to convince his “stubborn-headed brother.” They’d deal with him after they saved Evelyn.

Tovi’s instinct to flee quickened her pulse. But what would running do? Make her appear suspicious? Tovi had been in the midst of enemies before and needed to remain calm. She inhaled, stilling her nerves. She’d wait until the Gray Fenris arrived.

“It’s good to see you, Lucy,” he said, greeting the woman who’d called out to him.

“Aye, likewise. Did you rush in for the last bit of blueberry ale? Just in time. I’m going through my last keg.”

“Can I get two?” He gestured towards Tovi. “She’s never had it.”

Lucy scoffed. “Now, you look like one of those city women who sips wine. Sure you can handle an ale?”

Tovi raised a brow. “I can handle anything.”

The tavern owner threw up her hands. “That’s a woman after my own heart right there, stars above! If you don’t flirt with her, Magu, I will. ”

Lucy walked off to pull from a wooden barrel with a spout. Tovi glanced slightly to her left. Eldrick ran a hand through his cropped hair and sent an annoyed glance towards Lucy. The female werewolf didn’t seem affected in the slightest as she slid the two pints of pinkish ale towards them.

Tovi maneuvered Maxie to reach for her pouch of coin. Her fingers skirted across the edges of cut gems, far too hefty a price for an ale, but before she grabbed a coin, Eldrick slid enough for both across the brass bar top.

“That wasn’t necessary,” she said. “But thank you.”

Eldrick turned to her, eyes so alight, they may as well have been the gems in her pouch. “You could thank me by enjoying it with me.”

Tovi debated. She searched one last time, but nobody possessed bright hair like Kade described. Beyond the hazy windows, the sun hadn’t fully fallen past the mountain peaks. The Gray Fenris had time to arrive, and until then, she’d manage the Drengr alpha.

“Alright.” She clanked her clay mug against his, swigged, and— Tovi’s entire face pinched, her eyelids fluttered, and a jolt traveled down her spine. “Bloody hel that’s sour,” she spat after swallowing.

Eldrick broke out in a wide-brimmed grin. “Still certain you can handle it?”

Taken aback, Tovi straightened. He didn’t underestimate her. Playfulness rang in his tone, but she wasn’t one to not prove a point. Her eyes bore deep into the mug’s contents. The pinkish froth mocked her. Inside her sling, Maxie fidgeted, as if eager for her to get on with it.

Tovi chugged.

Lucy’s voice chanted in the background and the beat of fists on the tables egged her efforts on. One, two, three, four… Tovi slammed the empty mug on the bar top and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. She turned to grin at Eldrick and stopped. Their gazes connected, two shades of green, and her entire being sighed. The chaos of the last three weeks ceased, and a lightness settled over her like the gentle fall of a snow flurry.

Eldrick shook his head. “That was— ”

A ball of fiery fur burst into the air, leaping off Tovi’s chest and landing with a catlike grace. Maxie peered back at Tovi, narrowed her gaze, and then took off.

“Maxie!” Tovi cried.

Annoyance thrummed through her. She hated that cat, had hated her since she first locked gazes with those yellow all-too-knowing eyes, but Maxie belonged to Evelyn, and Tovi had to keep her safe. She couldn’t stomach letting Evelyn down again, like she had in Callum.

Tovi moved past Eldrick, sights set outside the Shield-maiden.

“Wait,” he said.

She stopped, sending him a soft smile. “It was great meeting you, but I have to go.”

She threw the words over her shoulder and quickened her pace. She caught the tip of Maxie’s tail scurrying around the redwood tree doorway.

As her cloak billowed behind her, Tovi struggled to rein in her vampyr speed. She weaved between those in the village, keeping her sights on Maxie’s ball of red. The cat veered left, and Tovi followed. Toes numb. Fingers tingling. Hot and cold, her muscles quivered with a frantic, disoriented pace.

Maxie ran faster, darting under carts, disappearing into the loose foundations of buildings, and appearing in the throngs of the many muddy boots in the evening activity. She leaped off stone steps and down the next street. Tovi skidded to a stop at the cusp of the two buildings. At the end of the deserted path, Maxie sat, waiting. Her tail swooshed back and forth, as if taunting Tovi.

She lost all sense. She fisted her hands, running after Maxie, when an iron grip grabbed her arm and pulled her into an alleyway. Her back slammed into hard stone, and before she could counterattack, silver flashed in the dark, and the feel of a blade pushed up against her throat.

“What are you?” Eldrick whispered in a calm yet lethal tone.

What. Not who . His suspicions caught her off guard.

“I have no idea—”

“Don’t you dare. I can smell it on you!” he hissed.

Tovi’s heart pounded. That wasn’t possible. Her bloodstone hid her vampyr scent.

Theories whirled in her mind, but she couldn’t think straight. A scent, fresh and spicy, like basil and spearmint, reached to her baser instinct, eliciting a desire she’d left dormant for years. Her body shivered with Eldrick’s hard form flush against her, firmly pressing her into the stone wall.

Whatever spell she’d come under snapped her back to reality.

“Let me go,” she hissed, holding back fangs that instinctively pushed to be released.

Eldrick held her harder, the stone of the wall grating against the bones of her shoulder blades.

“I’ll ask one last time, what the fuck are you?” he whispered again, cold and cruel.

“It’s who I am,” she spat. “Not what. I’m not some sort of animal or beast—”

“I beg to differ.”

She snickered. “Says a werewolf.”

Eldrick snarled. Metal kissed her pale skin like a feathery touch as he shook with rage. She didn’t flinch, didn’t let the fear thrumming in her veins show as strands of hate twisted into the green of his eyes. Shit . If she didn’t do something, say something , he was going to kill her. His intent clouded the air, contorting his handsome face. But she couldn’t fight at the risk of hurting him— that jeopardized her chances with the werewolves.

Her secrets whispered on the wind, taunting her like the pesky flurries twirling around them. Every fiber of her being fought against the notion, growing taut and steely. And yet Eldrick’s blade pressed deeper into her skin, the sharpness of the axe sending shudders through her. The wooden shaft groaned under his grip, whining as his shoulders tightened and—

“Kill me, and you’ll start a war you cannot win!" Tovi said.

Eldrick blinked. “Why is that, bloodsucker?”

“Because I’m Tovi Verena, Princess of Drystan and vampyrs. ”

Eldrick backed away a fraction. “Princess? Vampyrs have a king—”

“The king is dead,” Tovi said, each word rushed into the other. “And I’m the rightful heir to the Drystan throne.”

Bare, exposed, she stood there as the truth hung between them, colder than the Vadon Mountain’s air.