I looked down at the smiling face of Herrik’s daughter. Blossom was only seven years old, and shouldn’t have had to go through any of the trials she’d faced. She was so young and had survived so much. Her eyes sparkled when she looked at me. I hadn’t seen her like that since before her mother had died.
“All right then.” Polly scribbled something on her pad, then looked to Sylvie. “How about you, Pincushion? Got a name?”
Sylvie’s eyes narrowed and she grunted in response. “You stabbed me.”
“This is Sylvie,” I said, cutting off the discussion before it got any worse. “And Willow.”
“I’m Blossom.” The girl laced her fingers in mine and pushed between Sylvie and me.
We walked the tent, everyone giving their names. I named those who couldn’t speak. Polly nodded and wrote everything down. She seemed to write more for some than for others, as if she were recording details about us in addition to our names. If she was here representing Thorn, then I hoped our cooperation would also be noted in her report.
After we made the rounds, Polly headed for the door.
I caught her wrist. “Wait.”
She turned to look at me, and I let go.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Tell Thorn I need to speak with him,” I said. “Please.”
“Sure,” Polly said. “I’ll tell him.”
With that, she left. And I noticed as I stared through the open tent flaps, at some point the rain had stopped. I stepped out, a flutter of hope growing in my chest. It was a dangerous thing—hope. It was better to expect nothing, to wish for nothing, and never be disappointed.
In the forest, a plant rustled.
For a moment, I thought I saw something there, a shadow creeping through the brush. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought it was a man.
But there was no shifter scent in the air beyond those in my camp and those of the village. There was only that of the wild.
Chapter 4
Thorn
“Has an entire day passed already?” Flint turned his head toward me, while the rest of his body lay still as a corpse on the stone floor of his cell.
“No.” I crossed my arms and leaned on the door frame. “I was here last night. It’s morning now.”
“Couldn’t wait to see me again?” He laughed, but the sound broke into a cough.
I said nothing and looked him over. Like the other coyote prisoners, Flint grew thinner with every day that passed. They were being well fed. Were they flushing it all away in protest of being held?
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“Does Herrik have a second?” I asked.
He rapped his fingers on the floor. Seconds passed. He pursed his lips. Finally, he answered, “No.”
“A mate?” I asked, my thoughts returning to the redhead just outside the village wall. The attraction I felt to that woman made me lose my senses. I wanted to trust her, to find an excuse to get to know her. I wanted to hear that she hadn’t already been claimed by another. I wanted her to be mine.
“Herrik’s mate died.”
“Did he have anyone else close to him? Anyone he would trust?”
Flint rolled to his side and slowly sat upright. “He doesn’t trust anyone.”
“Family?”
“A daughter. But he’s a stranger to her.”
I was surprised Flint was telling me so much, but I’d gladly take everything I could get. “What do you mean?”
“It’s like he forgot she existed.”
How could a man forget his child?
“That look says you don’t believe me, even when you can hear that I’m not lying.”
I smoothed my expression. “I believe you.”
He nodded. “It’s a hard concept to understand. Herrik has a single focus. If you want to know what his intentions are, you have to ask him. But Herrik decides one thing at a time, whatever the mission, and everything else fades away.”
And everyone. The last part went unsaid, but I understood, even if it didn’t make sense to me. I’d seen the crazed look in Herrik’s eyes when he’d come to Lycaon seeking Celedon. It wasn’t the first time the coyote alpha had seemed...wrong.
“Where do you think he would go?” I asked.
“Home.”
Your home is gone.
Maybe Flint was right about Herrik, or maybe he was projecting.
He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back on his palms. “Look, all of these questions are really about the coyotes you said showed up here last night. I can’t imagine they’d be much of a threat. Not after last time.”
Herrik and his fighters had attacked with everything they had, no question. My concern wasn’t another all-out assault. I worried a second attack would be one of stealth.
“They didn’t fight at all.” I turned to leave.
“Wait.”
I stood there and listened, wondering what he had to say.
“If they aren’t fighters, who came?” The urgency and hitch in his tone made it clear that he was surprised. “What do they want?”
“I’m about to find out.”
I shut the door and traveled up through the tunnels to the surface. A few steps through the street and I caught the now-familiar scent of human.
“Thorn!” Polly Perry stuck her head around the corner then jumped out in front of me.
“Did you speak to the coyotes?” I asked.
I’d sent her instead of someone else given the heightened tension between the wolves and coyotes. Though Polly Perry had been held by Herrik upon arriving to the island, she appeared not to hold it against them. I needed every ally I could get.
“Oh yeah,” she said. “I shot the shit with them. Gave them a good once-over, too.”
“What does that mean?”
“Here.” She handed me a pad of paper. “I got the skinny on those coyote fuckers.”
I still didn’t know what she was saying. That seemed to be a common theme to our conversations. Hopefully I’d understand when I read what she had written.
Sylvie—old and short, scowly motherfucker who doesn’t take kindly to being stabbed.
Blossom—girl somewhere between toddler and puberty, smells like mustard.
I looked up at Polly Perry. A sharp, crooked grin crossed her face, and she lifted her chin as she put her hands on her hips. She appeared quite pleased with herself. She had given me what I’d asked for, but the commentary wasn’t particularly useful. I skimmed through the list, and stopped on the first relevant insight.
Cliff—fucking finally someone without a plant name...wait no, never mind. Rocks. Got it. Weird spots on his back.
“Weird spots?” I asked.
“Yep,” she said. “There’s a bunch of them.”
“A bunch of spots?”
“Yeah, that, too.” She nodded. “But I meant a bunch of the coyotes have hella spots. Maybe moles or birthmarks or some genetic shit. Looks like they threw ink at each other.”
A sinking feeling filled my chest. This could be it. This could be their form of attack—biological warfare. “Did the coyotes say anything about the spots?”
“Nope. I didn’t want to be rude and make them feel self-conscious or anything, so I didn’t ask.”
This could be catastrophic. I had to nip the situation before more were exposed.
“Tell Forrest to gather any who have come in contact with the coyotes out front and quarantine.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“That includes you.”
Without waiting to see if she was following my instructions, I ran down into the tunnels. I placed my palm on the slab of cold iron, turning the gears with the power of the earth. The door swung open, revealing Flint standing much closer than I’d expected.
I ground my teeth. He’d played me. He knew.
“I know it hasn’t been a full day, Warrior.” A wry grin slid across his face, and the scent of coulu carried on his breath.
My wolf raged, clawi
ng to put the coyote in his place.
“What are the black spots?” I growled.
His expression dropped and he took a step back. His cowed reaction pleased my wolf.
“Tell me,” I commanded.
Flint slowly lifted the hem of his shirt. I watched, anticipation pricking at my nerves.
There was massive discoloration across his stomach and chest. It appeared as Polly Perry had said, like he’d been splattered with a bucket of squid ink.
The tension in my neck and shoulders lessened. It wasn’t an attack. The spots weren’t a new phenomenon brought into our midst by the coyotes beyond our walls. This illness had been here all along.
I looked over Flint’s face. He’d shrunken in on himself, and his green eyes shifted from across the floor.
Speaking softer this time, I asked, “How did we not—”
“You want to know why your people didn’t notice before.” Flint glanced up at me, then back down once more.
“Yes.”
“The affliction hadn’t spread so far when your medic checked me for wounds. It was only a circle on the ball of my foot, no larger than my littlest toe.”
“What is it?” I asked. “An illness? Disease?”
“I grew up hearing that shifters didn’t get diseases, that only humans beyond our shores were meant to suffer such things. But then the affliction came.”
Strange. “You’ve had this affliction the whole time you have been here, yet I have not been made sick though I visit you every day.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “My medic has not mentioned becoming ill though she was close to each of you and your companions.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Flint said. “It’s a curse.”
“A curse,” I repeated.
Magic used to do ill to others? I’d never seen such a thing. The guardians controlled all magic on the island, sharing only with their warriors. Magic was used only to protect, not to harm.
“How do you know?” I asked. “How can you be certain it’s magic?”
“I don’t. I’m not.”
I just looked at him, waiting for more.
He lowered his shirt. “It doesn’t pass from one person to another. The affliction just is.”
I considered his words, and reconsidered my exile of those outside the wall. More likely than not, there was no assault. I’d only imagined it. There were women and children, and there were people suffering. The tent was no real solution. Even if they were not my people, I had to let them in.
“Thank you.” I turned to go.
“Wait,” Flint said. “Can I ask you something?”
“What is it?” I looked back over my shoulder at him.
“Who’s out there? The coyotes who came here, who is among them?”
“I have a list,” I said.
I could feel his agitation. It added a charge to the stale air. If circumstances had been different, I might have interpreted the change as hostility. But I had watched his reactions enough by now to see the truth. He was worried.
“If Herrik isn’t among them, they mean you no harm,” he said.
“They’re women,” I said. “Children, elderly, and sick.”
“If they left home, something must have gone wrong.” His agitation was changing, intensifying into panic. He swayed on his feet, running his fingers through his hair.
I felt no fear of this man, only sadness for him. He was sick, and he was lost.
“I’ll take care of them,” I said.
He stilled, his green eyes meeting mine. “You will?”
“I promise.”
“Thank you.” His words were soft, genuine. He sank down to the cell floor and sat in a ball. “Can you check your list for me? Just for one name. Briar. I need to know that she’s okay...please.”
I pulled out the pad of paper Polly Perry had given me. I read down until I found it—Briar. I read the note that was written beside her name. Feisty ginger leading the pack. Pretty freckles.
I looked to Flint. “She’s here.”
He smiled. It was a soft expression, tired and so unlike the grin he had worn when I’d first opened the door. “Good.”
My chest grew tight. There was one last question to ask, one I couldn’t bear to hear the answer to.
I left Flint to his thoughts, lost in my own.
Briar. Without question she was the woman from the gate, the woman I knew was meant to be my mate. More likely than not, she already had chosen a mate—Flint. Life in Lycaon was about to become a lot more complicated.
Chapter 5
Briar
A cranking sound alerted me to the opening of the gates. I raced out of the tent to see what was going on. Willow was two steps ahead of me, and Sylvie was already outside waiting for us.
I was just in time to see him.
Confidence rolled off of him in waves. It was his stride. It was the way he held himself. It was the way the air charged around him, setting off every nerve.
Thorn, Alpha of Wolves, Warrior of Land—he had more titles than anyone I’d ever met. If that wasn’t enough to make me squirm, his gaze was set on me.
I couldn’t breathe. I was lost in the ocean of his irises, captivated by the copper flecks that swirled on the surface, frozen by the intensity that simmered beneath.
“Briar?” He stopped in front of me.
I needed to talk to him. There was a nagging itch in the back of my brain. Say something. Standing there staring, all I could think about was the heat that spread through me when he was near. A fog filled my head, and I couldn’t find words—any words.
Willow elbowed me in the ribs and whispered, “Answer him.”
Right. He’d said my name. Heat rose in my cheeks, all the way up to the tips of my ears. I had to say something.
“Yes?” It was a quiet squeak, but given the tingling in my fingers and toes, I was glad I’d managed anything.
“Walk with me.”
It wasn’t a request. It was a command, hard and firm. I might have considered saying no, had I not wanted this very thing since the moment we’d arrived. Or maybe I was delusional in thinking I would deny him under any circumstance.
Sylvie gave me an encouraging grin, then pushed me in Thorn’s direction. I stumbled forward and my cheeks grew hotter. A lump formed in my throat.
He watched me mangle my footing. I could feel the weight of his eyes on me even when I wasn’t looking at him. And this was not the impression I wanted to make.
I’d imagined this meeting over and over again. Each time I’d spoken eloquently about my people’s plight. Sometimes in my mind, Thorn agreed to remove the boulders from our homes. Other times he declined, not because I hadn’t been convincing, but because there had never been a chance of success.
Once I managed to walk like a normal person and reached his side, the gates began to shut. I watched the gap slowly disappear, and the familiar faces with it. As the metal clicked into place, the lump in my throat sank.
I was alone.
The wall seemed higher from this side, impossibly high, unscalable. There was no escape.
“Come.” Thorn starting walking.
Wolf shifters watched me. A woman pulled a young boy behind her as if protecting him from me. There were others, all glaring as if I’d personally committed some unforgivable offense against them.
Completely out of my element, and with no other option, I followed Thorn. If I’d had an option, I likely would have run after him just the same.
I’d make my request. He’d say yes or he’d say no. And then all of this would be over.
Beyond the containment of the wall, and past the disapproving glowers, Lycaon Village was picturesque. The sky-high tree houses had roots as huts below. Some seemed to be part of the trees themselves, carved into trunks thicker than I had seen anywhere else. The outer walls of others appeared to be constructed of living vines that wove together in a tapestry.
The paths between buildings were paved with stones instead of pressed soil
. And past the buildings by the wall grew a lush garden of blooms in a rainbow of shades. I stared at the flowers, wondering what each was and if it was meant to grow in the region. I hadn’t seen any in the wild, not in the plains and not in the forest.
“Tell me, Briar of the Coyote Tribe, who are you?”
I jumped, not expecting Thorn’s voice.
His question held the answer. I wasn’t sure what else he wanted, so I told him my truth. “I’m no one.”
He stopped walking and turned to me. “That’s not true in the least.”
His hazel gaze was both sharp and heated. It dropped from my eyes and lingered on my lips. A flush crawled across my skin, prickling in anticipation of the touch that surely would never come. Still, I couldn’t breathe—let alone think—when he looked at me like that.
“You’re a leader of your people,” he said. “A strong and stunning woman.”
Stunning? Stunning like a bash in the head maybe.
“I’m not their alpha,” I said. My voice grew quieter and higher pitched with every word. “I’m just—”
“Who led that group of people outside the wall to my gate?”
“They weren’t led so much as they decided to follow, without any persuasion.” My voice was little more than a whisper, and now more than ever I wished I could control it.
He took a step closer. “Who did they follow?”
I wanted to look away, to hide, to scale the wall and return to what remained of my tribe.
I wanted to be anywhere but here, with Thorn looking at me like that. I wanted to do anything but answer him. Clearly, he wasn’t going to let me do that.
“Me.”
He nodded, like that was all he’d been waiting for, and started walking once more. I shivered. It was him. The air was warmed when he was close, and when he left, so did the heat. I shook my head in an attempt to clear away my racing thoughts. And just as before, I hurried to catch up.
Maybe that would be the dynamic between us—he led, I followed. Who was I kidding? There was no us. There never would or could be. I was a coyote, nothing to the great Warrior of Land who’d been chosen by a dragon guardian as his champion. I stuck by my original assertion—I was no one. But it was probably best to keep that to myself.
Wolf Warrior of Land (Alphas & Alchemy: Elemental Shifters Book 2) Page 3
