by Liv Brywood
He nods, ignoring the other men. As he pulls a ring from his pocket, I gasp. He slides it onto my hand. It’s silver and depicts the head of a wolf. I’m stunned by its beauty.
“This has been charmed to sound my pack’s howl. If you need help, tap the head and it will call me. I need to go organize the pack.”
I nod, too stunned by his gift to respond. It’s a comfort to have an ally in Kael.
He leaves. Bastian and Cobalt watch him the whole way.
“You need to consider this attacker more seriously,” Bastian says.
“He’s dead. I’ll have any answers he can give me when my ritual’s done.”
“Baby, please—”
“No!”
I say it too harshly. The cups in the cabinet shake and the windows rattle. Eventually I control my emotions and silence falls once again.
Bastian looks at me. There’s a touch of fear in his eyes as my magic pulses. That touch with Kael might have made me too authoritative. I fed off his energy, which is dominant, to say the least.
“The crows are the focus. I could use you on the hunt,” I say.
He nods and swallows. When opens his mouth to offer to stay tonight, I shake my head. “I know what time of year it is. You still have coming-of-age rituals to finish with the bear clan tonight. Your people need you.”
“You’re my people too.”
Our eyes meet, hazel to deep green, and there’s a moment of pure desire. I remember his note, and a powerful craving washes over me. I imagine the power of him under me, in me, tucked into my room, in my bed, myself wrapped in his arms and secure, us together.
“Go. I’m fine.” I arrange myself behind my worktable, distracting myself with ingredients and runes as he eyes me.
In time, he leaves. There’s silence, for a moment, and then Cobalt shuts the door, closing us inside.
He’s watchful. He waits. I know he has questions. He saw much more in that exchange than he’ll ever let on. Cobalt’s like that, obsessed with beauty, smarter than even he gives himself credit for. He moves to the hearth and puts another log on the fire. I finish my last grind of ingredients with my mortar and pestle.
“Can I stay to watch you cast a spell?”
I meet those intense blue eyes of his. I know he’s always liked the sheer creation of my magic. It’s the witch half of his blood. There’s no fear in him, only delight in creation.
I gesture to the stool opposite me, but he raises a hand. He digs in his satchel to pull out charcoal and sketch paper.
He never lets me see what he draws, but he almost always draws when he’s here.
“May I?” he asks.
“Of course.”
As the ground crystals thrum to life, magic rises. I’m focused only on my power. Everything else falls away. I trace the energy in the individual strands of hair and try to trace their signature.
Thin cords radiate from each strand. Cords track back to ancestors, to places he’s been, to people he’s cared for, and to everything and everyone he’s ever loved. I need to pull the one that leads back to his master.
There are flashes of blood and of pain. There’s a tiredness, an endless march of time, an endless hunger, an emptiness, a void of loneliness, cold, cold, so cold, and then—
Eleonore.
He gives that name such reverence, such care, softness, and attention. His master. His… queen?
Sharp pain stabs my fingertips. My eyes glaze over as flames jump and twist in the bowl before me. I yank my hands away, but not before blisters bubble on my inflamed skin.
The bowl containing the hair flies toward the hearth. When it hits the flames, it explodes. Cobalt jumps back while brushing embers from his hair.
The fire snaps out.
Silence as deep as interstellar space settles over the room.
Outside, a crescent moon touches the horizon. I wipe a bit of blood from beneath my nose. I’ve never had a spell end like that before.
Fatigue washes over me.
Eleonore. Who the heck is that? A witch? Does she have something to do with the crows? Is she the one controlling them? And why does that name sound vaguely familiar?
And where’s Cobalt? He’s gone. The ripped shawl from earlier today is draped across the chair he was sitting in. The tear has been mended. On the seat is a sketch, rendered in charcoal, and comprised of blurred lines.
It’s me, bare-breasted, wounds styled as scars, hovering maybe six inches off the floor. My eyes are rolled back in my head, all whites, while my hair floats wildly in the air. The shawl he had gifted me is draped over my shoulders. It’s alight with runes and sparks of magic. My materials are all suspended in the space around me, and smoke wafts from my open mouth. Magic. Words of power in a hundred different languages cover the rest of the paper.
It’s beautiful. Terrible. A witch in her full power, one to be in awe of. Cobalt must have exaggerated, because this woman, she can’t be me.
Chapter 7
Azealia
The wolves gathered in my garden look at me with suspicion in their eyes.
I bite my bottom lip as I twirl the wolf’s-head ring on my right hand. I’ve faced packs larger than this—even this pack when it was larger—but it’s been a long time.
And Kael hadn’t been their Alpha the last time we’d fought.
He’s standing about two feet in front of me. In wolf packs, power dynamics are important. If we are to gain the wolf’s trust, then Kael needs to be in the Alpha position. What we’re about to ask his pack to do is dangerous, so they will need to be in agreement before we can proceed.
I need to be quiet and let him have control. It doesn’t escape me that these are mated behaviors. That this is how shifters mark out who belongs to who. It hadn’t been worth the argument. It doesn’t matter what Kael’s pack thinks of me, or what he thinks of me. I’m still being followed by possessed crows, so finding out who’s behind it is the only thing that truly matters.
And that name—Eleonore. It still haunts me, although I don’t know why. Not yet. I need more information, and I need his pack to help me get it.
“You’ll feel cold, until the spell settles,” Kael says as he continues to explain the spell I want to cast on them. “Then, you’ll be able to see colors you can’t normally see. You can follow them with your eyes like your nose follows a scent. Azealia will tell us which trails are the most important ones to track.”
Mason raises a hand and waits to be acknowledged before he speaks. “Has she done this before?”
“She demonstrated it this morning. Now just on me, but on the Bear and the Dragon too.”
That had been the other stipulation—that Cobalt and Bastian stay separated from the pack. It’s been a long time since the shifters last warred, but tensions between Shifter Clans—like all tensions in Bonfire Falls—remain high.
I’m surprised by how many pack members came to my house. Kael had made it clear that he only wanted volunteers. I’d expected a handful of wolves to meet us, but most of his pack is here. Several had approached me to thank me for potions I’d whipped up over the years. Although I never spent much time with the pack, I never turned away someone in need of magical assistance.
Kael glances over his shoulder and nods at me. It’s my signal to begin. I step to the side and loosen my tongue for the Norse incantation.
He gestures the first group of five wolves forward. There’s a girl in the group who can’t be more than seventeen years old. She’s strong through the arms and shoulders, with sharp eyes and an easy smile.
“Will the spell hold after we shift?” she asks.
I nod, and she gives me a wary smile.
I’d been up all night trying to find a way to give my second sight to the wolves. The magic needed to stick through a shift, without making the wolf lose their mind in the process. It hadn’t been easy, but right before dawn, I’d finally figured it out.
I breathe in, then out, and in again. As I reach for the well of magic in my center
, I let my vision go dark.
“Með eyur minn sjá knátta þú—”
My fingers dance, pushing and pulling threads of magic, weaving the ability to see energetic traces in with the wolves’ other senses. A rainbow of colors and sparkling runes dances over the wolf shifters. The magic settles into their skin in whorls of light and power.
I don’t know what it looks like from the shifter’s perspective. I’ve never seen myself cast before. Not since Cobalt’s sketch last night.
For a moment, my hands falter. Letting Cobalt see me unleash my power is one thing, but allowing all of these strangers to witness my frightening magic is another.
Now is not the time.
I stamp down my embarrassment. The crows are far more important than my fear of being seen as a monster by the others. I shouldn’t care what they think, but after living in exile for so many years, I can’t help but wonder what they whisper behind my back.
It takes a full three minutes to cast the spell. The chant is intricate, and the motions are precise. Toward the end, my strength starts to fade. I can feel how little time I’ve spent resting over the last few days. The memory of the blood that leaked from my nose at the end of scrying last night washes through me. The metallic scent envelopes me. I nearly gag but manage to regain my control.
There are still twenty-six more wolves to go. I’d never expected so many to come. The kindness of the pack is… I don’t have words. But by the gods, maybe I should have slept until this afternoon.
By the time we’re through the last batch, I’m tired, so very tired. My muscles shake. My bones ache. Kael is behind me. His hand rests lightly on my hip to steady me.
As the wolves disperse and depart, unease settles over them. Their fear is palpable. I don’t blame them. We don’t know what we’re up against.
They shift before following a muddy trail out of my garden. As they pass through the unseen barrier around the house, a faint, transparent shimmer of gold closes behind them. Beyond it lie the cursed woods where an evil witch made her home centuries ago.
That evil witch is me, at least that’s what the people of Bonfire Falls think. After today, perhaps the pack will change its mind about me. Kael seems to have laid claim to me. But fear dies hard.
My knees tremble. That was the largest spell I’ve ever done. My physical and magical reserves have been spent. I haven’t needed to store magic in decades, but I have a feeling I need to start capturing reserves soon.
Kael catches me by an elbow, steading me. “You’re all right. I’ve got you. They’re gone. You can lean on me.”
He soothes me with his presence and his strength. I let him guide me to the bench in my night garden. We sit among star jasmine and honeysuckle blossoms. Lazy afternoon sunlight seeps through the trees to charge the plants with fresh power.
As I sit there and regain my energy, he keeps his eyes sharp, flitting his gaze from place to place. He’s protective. Watchful. Strong.
“I wanted to thank you,” I say.
He quirks an eyebrow at me.
“All these people—I never expected so much help. Especially with my reputation.”
He blows a breath out through his nose. “Your reputation is part of the reason we’re here. When you’re the smallest cub in a pack, you make friends with the biggest wolf in the den.”
“So, who’s the biggest wolf, and who’s the smallest cub in this scenario?”
“Does it matter?” He’s looking at me with something akin to reverence, but Kael would never revere me.
His gaze drifts down to my mouth. My lips tingle.
“You’re wrong about what people think of you,” he murmurs.
My breath catches. Color rises along my cheeks. I clear my throat and look down at the closed buds of the flowers to my right. I stroke a finger along the petal of a star jasmine, and it blooms, followed by ten or so blossoms around it. The scent is light, as beautiful in the daylight as it is in the starlight.
I clear my throat, unsure of how to move forward with him. I’m not sure how to handle him when he’s soft like this. The way he looks at me is tender, and it terrifies me far more than when he comes at me as a growly wolf.
“I spent so many years alone… my tongue ties easily in a knot.”
Kael’s fingers brush my hand, and I meet those warm amber eyes. “Words are cheap, but action is rare. The pack is grateful for the help you’ve given us over the years.”
“Sometimes I think I should have stayed alone here with only the trees to keep me company.”
“A lonely life.”
“Yes,” I admit.
While he watches me, I force myself not to look at him. I keep my eyes down, and my voice silent. He tangles our fingers together more firmly, while blowing a breath out.
“We’re not like most people. Our ability to command power makes us special. It’s a burden, and a responsibility. It means we can hand down orders and make difficult decisions, but it also means that sometimes we need to get away from everyone. Solitude is a virtue. Sometimes when I’m on a peak, howling at the moon alone, I feel completely at peace.”
“I understand.”
He tugs my hand over to his thigh. He spreads my palm and traces the lines from my fingertips to my wrist. “It’s hard to stand on the peak of anything. Begin a leader is a never-ending job. All people see is you standing at the top. They don’t see the long climb it took to get there or see what it takes to maintain your position.”
Those little strokes of his fingertips across my palm light a fire in me.
“But I see you, up there, on the mountain. Alone.” He looks to me, as if peering directly into my soul. “I see everything.”
I lean toward him, drawn in by the longing which rolls off him in waves. His powerful words have touched my heart, and I can’t resist him. With him, I can be real. I don’t have to keep up appearances or pretend that I’m not lonely. He understands me.
We’re an even match.
“Yesterday, I wondered if those cubs were—”
“Mine?”
I nod, but I’m not sure why it matters. I’ve been alone for so long. Is opening my heart to him really worth the risk? What if we’re both standing on separate mountains, unable to cross the valley between us? We’d be just like Adrian and his lover, separated forever, never to meet again.
Perhaps I cursed myself when I cursed them.
“Why did you wonder if they were mine?” he asks.
I can’t touch that. I can’t touch him. I tug my hand gently, trying to get it away. Trepidation rises in me. He stops his fingers at the edge of my wrist, tapping twice to get my attention. I can’t look at him. His lifts my chin and forces me to meet his eyes.
“There’s no one else on this peak with me. Only you,” he whispers.
I can’t breathe, not while he’s looking at me this way. I search for something, anything to dispel the sense of free fall, this closeness. Somehow, I always knew we’d end up here, close enough to kiss, but still separated by the great divide between us.
“Is that why you’re such an ass all the time? Because I’m the only one strong enough to question you?”
“Am I an ass?” The corner of his mouth lifts again.
“You could be kinder.” My voice is nothing more than a whisper.
“Kindness invites pain. Control invites strength.” He draws me closer.
“That’s a hateful truth.”
“It is.” His gaze is intense but lacks its usual predatory gleam.
My tongue slips out to wet my lips. I know what’s coming, and I’m powerless to stop it, even if I wanted to stop him, but I don’t. Goddess help me, I don’t want to push him away, even though I know I should.
“Maybe we could be strong and kind, together.”
As he brushes the backs of his knuckles across my cheek, I turn into his caress with a yearning I haven’t felt in decades. He trails a hand down my arm. We’re less than a breath apart. The urge to lose control, to burn th
rough all this tension, to let all this heat between us finally ignite, is nearly unbearable.
I don’t know who moves first, but our lips meet. His hand dives into my hair and he pulls me closer. His lips are so soft, his hands so strong. The heat of him, the power—I’m overcome.
I lay my hands on his chest, grip the soft linen of his shirt, and cling to him. My fingertips spark, and little shocks of energy flash against him. He flinches and leans back.
“What was that?”
“Magic.”
I tug him closer, wanting his lips against mine once more, but he resists. As he pulls away, lightning strikes, flashing down my spine and out through my feet. My hair crackles and lifts. The scent of jasmine and honeysuckle intensifies, mingling with the scent of Kael. It’s hot and sharp, an assault on the senses.
My magic reaches out, twining around him in little arcs of desire, and power. Other tendrils curl out like roots to nestle into the rich soil beneath us. I open my eyes to see my night garden in bloom. It’s beautiful.
His eyes go wide with wonder, only to darken once again with near-feral desire. He growls and dips to nip at my shoulder. One of his hands makes it way to my hip. With the tips of his fingers, he caresses the soft skin of my stomach. My nipples bud as our skin sparks together.
Flashes of golden light and silver—
My eyes dart to a glint of silver at the corner of my vision. Three crows perch on the long branch of a willow tree. Their silver eyes are trained on me. The air stills. A strange twilight encircles the garden.
The hands on my skin become narrower, with longer, more delicate fingers. Kael’s full lips thin. His teeth sharpen. I see a flash of golden hair, like the hair I’d stroked and braided centuries ago.
Adrian.
I shove him away.
Kael’s amber eyes flash. His black hair flies in every direction as he stumbles backward. The confusion on his features is so different from the smug look on Adrian’s fading face. I shake my head to dispel the hallucination.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”
