by Bec McMaster
The heavy drag of my fur cloak threatened to submerge me again, and I kicked my legs desperately, trying to tear at the metal clasps that bound it in front of me. Water covered my face, bubbles streaming from my nose. I could swim well, but not wearing so much weight, and my limbs were sluggish from the cold.
Managing to surface for one blissful breath, I went under again. It was getting harder and harder to keep kicking. The cloak felt like it was getting heavier—or perhaps there were grasping hands deep beneath the water, trying to drag me down. Panic bloomed, hot in my chest. I thrashed out, trying to find purchase, but there was nothing to grab onto; my eyes felt tight with pressure, my lungs heaving for sweet air and finding only water, and the surface seemed so far away—
A hand suddenly plunged through the water and locked in the collar of my cloak and shirt. It hauled me to the surface and suddenly I could breathe again, water spewing from my lungs as I hacked and coughed. Was this how my father felt, day after day? Unable to purge the heaviness from his chest?
"I've got you," Casimir said, dragging me into the circle of his arms and kicking for the shore.
I barely felt him haul me out. My bones were as heavy as lead, and all I could do was suck in the sweet, bitter air.
I'd nearly drowned.
Then we were safe on dry ground, collapsing in the snow. Hands tugged on my clothes, stripping my fur cloak free. I vomited a mouthful of water as Casimir turned me onto my side, tearing my leather jerkin open in sharp jerking movements. The wind seemed to slide straight through my wet tunic and wool undershirt.
"We need to get you out of these clothes," Casimir said, trying to rub heat into my arms.
My teeth chattered. "That seems... rather desperate... of you."
The gold of his eyes met mine. Then he laughed faintly. "I prefer my women a little less drowned rat."
"You're not... cold?"
His eyelashes were spiked together with water and trails of it slid down his tanned cheeks. "My blood runs hotter than yours does. In the winter, my kind swims in pools of water like this. It's invigorating."
"That's one word for it." I sank my head bank into the snow. Everything hurt as blood rushed back into frozen limbs. It felt like thousands of needles were stabbing into my fingers and hands.
"You need shelter and a fire." The smile was long gone. "Try not to protest too much."
And with that, he dragged me up into his arms and stood.
My mind seemed to be moving as sluggishly as my blood. "The volgur?"
"Gone. It clearly wasn't hungry enough to pursue us off the edge of the waterfall."
"L-lucky us."
"Or perhaps it sensed easier prey."
I could sense the rawness in his voice. "You think it heard Evaron and the others?"
"They weren't far behind us."
"There's more of them," I pointed out, resting my head against his shoulder as he carried me up the steep banks of the river. "And they have axes and bows. He'll be safe."
A quick flash of his eyes. "It's not him I'm worried about."
That earned a faint flush of heat through my cheeks.
Sweet Vashta, I could barely keep my eyes open. I opened my mouth, but he shook his head, and shouldered into the forest, swinging me in his arms. "Save your breath. You'll need your strength."
It seemed like a mighty fine idea.
I closed my eyes, and let him carry me, dreaming of a fire and some of father's mulled wine. Some part of me wondered if I'd ever be warm again.
I awoke to crackling flames, lying wrapped in soft fur.
Fire licked at the pile of wood in front of me, burning so hot it was almost white. Where was I? I groggily sat up, the fur slipping from my naked shoulder. I grabbed it before it could fall too far, my fingertips gliding over the silky softness. The fur was dry and soft, the fine silver ruff of a wolf's pelt.
A shadow finally resolved in the darkness, and a set of stark yellow eyes met mine. "I went back for the packs," Casimir said, sitting with his back to the tree across from me. "There's no sign of the others, but I found the volgur's blood trail. Looks like it retreated back the way it came. And Evaron's no fool. He knows I'll find him, when I can. He'll have set up camp somewhere."
"I'm naked," I blurted, noticing my shirt, leather leggings and boots all propped nearby to dry by the fire. Steam curled off my tunic.
"I didn't look."
That didn't make me feel any less bare. I wrapped myself in the fur, only just noticing he wore his still-damp tunic, and little else himself. The shock of seeing his bare toes and hairy legs captured my tongue, and he slowly smiled, as if amused by the sudden furious heat in my cheeks. The tunic hung halfway to his knees, but there was more than enough thigh revealed for my liking.
"You still undressed me."
"Should I have let you freeze?" He snorted. "It's nothing I haven't seen before, and I made sure the fur was covering as much of you as possible. You wouldn't wake. I did try."
Fine. Common sense dictated he'd done the right thing. The miller's son fell through the ice when we were skating once, and it wasn't as though I'd been thinking anything untoward when I stripped him bare.
"Besides, if I was actually trying to get you naked, I'd have asked first," Casimir said, and his voice came out rougher than usual.
My cheeks burned for another reason indeed. Insufferable wolvren. "The answer would be no. Just so you're aware."
He snorted. "As if I'd ask."
"As if I'd—" I'd already said no. Grr. My mind was still working slowly tonight.
Cas arched a brow. "Come, slay me with your wit."
"I'll slay you all right." I growled, reaching for my slightly damp shirt.
He looked away once again, smiling to himself, as I smuggled the shirt beneath the furs. I usually bound my breasts, but there was no sign of that convenient strip of linen, I noticed. And I wasn't about to go searching for it.
"Here," he said, reaching toward my damp clothes and tugging it free.
I grabbed it, and then contemplated the logistics of trying to manage everything while I hid beneath his fur. "Can you turn around?"
He sighed, and did, the firelight highlighting his back. "I'm not going to look."
I made short work of dressing, trying not to look at the way his shirt clung to his broad back and kissed the curve of his ass. Maybe he didn't want to look my way, but I couldn't help looking his. “I’m done.”
Stupid. He was the prince's man. I was a village girl. A hunter.
He didn't even like me.
Or so it seemed.
And I certainly didn't like him.
I couldn't help picturing the gentle way he stroked his horse's neck, murmuring under his breath to her. Nope. Not likable. Not at all. An image of his lashes guarding his eyes last night, when he told me about his past sprang to mind, as if to negate me.
"Are you all right?" he growled, as he turned around. "You look constipated."
I swear to Vashta's holy entrails I’m going to drown him the next time we came across a pool of water.
Casimir laughed, as if he had a direct connection with my mind.
He could have left you to drown. "Thanks. You saved my life today."
"Twice," he pointed out, and took his seat again.
"How did you get the wood to burn?" Most of what I'd seen in our travels was damp.
"Magic."
Magic? I suddenly noticed my own pack was open, the contents rifled. Any heat that had made headway through my body suddenly vanished, and my gaze jerked to his. Suddenly the sheer fury of the fire made sense.
"Keeping secrets, are we?" he mused.
"You found the feather."
"A firebird's feather," he said, turning his attention back to the flames. "Packed away in your bags in some sort of glass tube. You must have forgotten to mention it."
"My father found it in the woods one day, and gave it to my mother as a wedding gift. I didn't— I didn't want Evaron to take it away. I
t's my father's."
I reached for my bag, checking to make sure everything else was still inside it. There were dry clothes inside, and I hauled my unmentionables and a spare pair of leather leggings out, giving him a slightly raised-brow look.
Casimir turned away in surrender. "I'm not going to tell him. The feather's yours."
"Thank you." Dragging my leggings on beneath the furs, I wriggled around, trying not to flash too much skin. It wasn't as though he hadn't seen it all, but there'd been no way around that then.
There was now.
He stared into the flames, clasping his hands in front of him. The firelight lit the stark line of his cheekbones. "It wouldn't start. I was searching for flint, as mine is missing. Where did he find the feather?"
"He'd never say," I said, with a sigh. "Just that he'd found it within the heart of the forest."
"So someone has been through those thorns."
"He didn't talk about that either." I frowned. It wasn't as though my father had any secrets to keep but... It was weird, now I thought about it in hindsight.
"If we can't find the firebird, then at least the feather might assuage the king's fury," Casimir said quietly.
"No."
"Look, I'm not going to say anything. And I know its yours, but you don't know the king—"
"No. I'm fairly certain if the king sees the feather, he's not going to rest until he gets the rest of the firebird. The woods will be crawling with soldiers."
"Fine. Your decision." He held up his hands. "Your consequences."
I stared at him. It couldn't be that easy.
"What?" he demanded.
"I'm finding it difficult to believe that if push came to shove, and the choice was between Evaron's life and keeping your secret, that you wouldn't tell."
Casimir had a way of looking at me that felt like it stripped me to the bones. "I'd hope you would make the right choice if it came down to that. I know what its like not to be able to make your own choices. I wouldn't take yours from you."
When balanced against a man's life, what was a feather? I sighed. "Prince Perfect would know you'd kept it a secret from him."
"Maybe." He flickered a curious glance my way. "Prince Perfect?"
"Breathe a word of it and I'll tell him you knew about the feather," I muttered, though it was a lie.
I wouldn't be the one who was punished for this secret. Your secret, my secret, I said silently, and he nodded, seeing it in my eyes.
"Where did you get the fur from?" I muttered, not liking where the conversation had gone. His cloak lay by the fire beside mine, sodden and heavy.
Silence greeted my question.
And I remembered what I'd heard of wolvren. They were kin to selkies, and became wolf only when they zipped themselves inside their furs. To steal a wolvren's fur was to doom him to a half-life. He must have kept it rolled in his pack.
I could almost feel the heat of the fur, as if something warmed it from within. Magic, maybe. "Thank you."
He merely rubbed his hands by the flames. "We need you to find the firebird, hence we need you alive. I wouldn't just give my fur to anyone."
And for the first time, I was certain he'd lied to me.
I don't know what woke me.
But between one blink and the next, my vision slowly focused, and there were a pair of eyes staring at me from the woods.
I sat up with a sharp intake of breath. There was no sign of Casimir, and the fire burned as heartily as it ever had. Scrambling for the knife in my pack, my hand curled around the hilt and then I faced the creature in the trees.
"Your iron cannot hurt me here, child." The old woman in the velvet cloak stepped out of the woods.
"You," I said.
Cas? Where was he? The last I could remember, he'd offered to take the first watch.
"He's not here," said the old woman, reading my intentions. She walked through the fire, and I took a step back as its flames parted around her. "This is not real."
"I'm dreaming?" It certainly felt real. The knife hilt in my hand was solid, and the snow beneath my bare feet felt cold.
But as I looked around, I realized there were no shadows cast here. And the flames felt distant, as though a pane of glass separated me from the heat. "Who are you?"
Her bare feet whispered over the snow, melting little footprints in it. She pressed a hand to a mighty oak, stroking it as one would stroke a cat. "They called me Galina. Once upon a time." She glanced back, her silvery tangled and snarled down her back. "Are you coming child? I can only tell you more if you follow me away from here. Your wolf-man is caught between two worlds. He might sense me and wake to the dream."
Leaving the safety of the fire seemed less than prudent, but... I was already in her power it seemed. How could I escape from a world she ruled?
"You will not be harmed," she said, seeming to sense my reticence. "May Vashta strike me down if you are."
"You said the last time we met you'd tell me what you meant about waiting for me to come here," I pointed out. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me."
Her smile dawned, bright and cruel. "So I did. And I am bound by my word." Her gaze drifted to the fire. "I see you have the feather your father was given."
Given? "He found it."
"Did he?" Another smile. "A long time ago we met, he and I. He was lost in the woods, near starving, bleeding, and hunted by a pack of draugur. I saved his life."
"Why?" A life saved meant a debt owed.
"Because I saw his future and I needed him to live it." Galina's eyes glittered black in the firelight, the flames reflecting back off her pupils. "I allowed him to keep the feather he'd found, as a reminder of the price he owed me."
"What price?"
"A child," she whispered. "A daughter, one of three."
Instantly, I held the knife toward her, my nostrils flaring.
"Oh, child." She rolled her eyes. "I cannot take what is not freely given. I only wished to meet you, to see if you would be a worthy successor. He agreed to only that. I don't see the entire future, only possibilities. You are a possibility. And I've been waiting for you for nearly twenty years."
What? "You want me to be a witch? Like you?"
"I want you to be my successor."
"Then here is my answer: no."
Witches were cruel, solitary creatures who roamed dark woods, and lured the unsuspecting to their deaths. The malicious spells they cast ate away at their souls, leaving behind nothing human.
Galina didn't flinch. She merely smiled, and held a finger to her lips. "The moment of the choice is not upon us. Therefore, you can't deny me, not yet."
"I will keep saying no for a month, if I have to. No, no, no."
"All I wish is for you to listen to me," she said. "You will have your chance to say no, and you will know when the moment arrives. Come, walk with me."
I stared at her. "Why?"
"Will you not listen to what I have to say?"
My eyes narrowed. She'd sworn not to harm me. "If I come with you and hear you out, will you return me to my own world?"
"Of course."
"By the end of an hour?" Only a fool didn't specify limits when dealing with a creature like this.
"Within the hour," she said, and set off through the trees, casting me one last smile.
No reason to panic, I told myself as I followed her through the trees. My father made a deal for me to meet with her. Nothing more. And she wanted something from me. She wasn't going to hurt me until she had it—or knew I wouldn't give it to her. My bare feet crunched on the soft snow. I could barely feel it. For such an old woman, she moved with the kind of grace I'd never seen before. Despite my skill in the forest, she had to wait for me several times.
"You hunt the firebird," Galina finally said, when the trees began to thin.
Something compelled me to say: "The king wants its heart. He's dying, and he needs it to survive."
Her black eyes locked upon me, stark in her gaunt face. S
uddenly I was aware of a dangerous presence within her. A predator, its fangs bared. Or a monster, inhumane and lovely. Then it was gone, but I couldn't forget its presence. "Mortal men...." She snorted. "Always seeking to avoid their fate, no matter the cost. His son rides with you. Perhaps I will take his life as payment for his trespass here, and to send this king a message."
"No." I lurched forward, hand held out helplessly. "The prince doesn't— He's a better man than his father. I think if he had a choice in the matter then he would not be here."
"And what do you want?" she asked. "Would you kill the firebird for your king?"
The thought troubled me more than it should have. "The king... they say he's a ruthless man and it's not wise to naysay him when he wants something. He'd have my head."
Or burn me alive.
"I know another word for that."
So did I. Tyrant. "He burned three villages far to the west of here two years ago. They'd refused to pay their taxes, claiming they had no money to give him."
"If his men cannot find you, then they cannot harm you," she said. "The forest would welcome you. You have Old Blood flowing through your veins, and you know how to avoid the king's men."
Ha, nice try. "Become a witch, you mean?"
A smile. I was growing heartily sick of them.
"I don't have a choice. I have sisters. A father. They would force my father to guide them into the woods, and he's far too ill. I can't just run and hide and leave my family and friends to my fate."
The trees ended, and then we were standing in a glade, looking down upon the waterfall that had been both savior and peril. Silver light washed over the world, the moon pregnant and heavy in the sky, its reflection splayed upon the black waters of the pool we'd tumbled into. Water tumbled mercilessly over the falls, sending the reflection dancing in constant ripples.
"These are my woods," said Galina, turning her weathered face to the sky as if to soak up the light of the moon too. "I would like you to see them as they truly are."
"Thanks, but I think I took the extended tour today."
"You crossed the barrier," she murmured, "but you weren't paying attention. You're in the Heart of Gravenwold now."
Night-flowers began to gleam phosphorescent in the darkness, turning their silken faces up toward the sky. My breath caught. Little glittering fireflies danced from flower to flower. It was incredible, and nothing like the darkness of Gravenwold had led me to expect.
