by S. D. Grimm
A Spy
Oswell circled Connor, torch in hand.
Connor shook like something inside of him had awakened. His talents. Oswell’s display threatened Connor’s life—with fire, nonetheless—and his talents emerged from dormancy. He growled. Everything he’d done to keep them contained would be ruined if he used them now. He breathed deep, trying to calm himself.
Oswell slunk closer. “Who are you? What are you?”
Connor backed away a step, heart skittering. Oswell had seen him change as he’d slipped under the door. Oswell knew the color of Connor’s eyes. He might be in wolf form now, but Oswell wasn’t stupid. He’d figure this out.
If Connor didn’t use his talent now . . . maybe there was one more use for the bracer.
He bared his teeth, jumped forward, and pushed Oswell to the ground. Oswell hit with a thud and grabbed Connor’s leg. Kept him from escaping. Heat charred his fur and seared his skin. He grabbed Oswell’s arm in his mouth. Bit. Crushed.
Oswell swore and dropped Connor’s leg.
Connor sprinted away. Every movement pulled at the burn on his side.
“Stop that wolf!”
Guards sprang to attention, but Connor was too fast. He dashed into the kitchen, morphed long enough to open the door, then escaped into the night.
He rounded the palace, headed for the back.
“After it! It’s a Feravolk spy!”
A spy, huh? Yes. Oswell was on to something. Connor would have to be very careful not to get caught now. The searing pain in his side told him this would be a difficult wound to hide.
He made it to the back and limped through the long grass behind the smithy. Too many guards had headed that way. Of course his clothes were in the tunnel with no more access to the outside. Now he could either go back inside as a wolf or a naked man. Or wait for the palace guards to give up searching for him so he could slip into the smithy and into the underground tunnels.
He waited in the dark of the night. Waited until the lights dimmed in Oswell’s room. And licked his wound.
By the time he deemed it safe to go after his clothes, his side was stiff and the hair matted to the sticky skin pulled with each movement. If he could be a bird right now, he wouldn’t even be able to fly. He found the tunnel and his clothes.
His skin hurt worse when he morphed back. His whole side was red and blistered. Pulling on his shirt was torture. So was moving.
When he reached the top of the steps, he pressed his ear to the door. Nothing. At the door to his room, he smelled something. Someone had been by here. He sniffed. Kara. Only she smelled different. What had that spell done to her? To Franco and that poor Madison girl?
Hopefully something in the library had answers.
Connor’s stomach twisted, and he wanted to throw up. Maybe he should go patch up his side. He limped toward the infirmary to get some salve, but someone was coming. He sniffed. Lavender. Belladonna. He stepped aside and leaned against one of the recesses in the wall behind a golden statue of a man holding scales.
She marched past without so much as noticing him, but the Healer who followed behind looked right into his eyes. Madison.
A crease formed between her eyebrows and she opened her mouth. He held his finger up to his lips, hoping she’d stay silent.
She turned away from him and he stared at the shackles around her wrists. Poor girl needed to be rescued. Especially if she looked at him like that. But what had Franco done to her? Would it be safe to free her, or would someone notice?
Footsteps shuffled ahead.
“How dare you step in front of me?” Belladonna’s voice boomed in the halls.
A fire rose in Connor’s throat, and he stepped out of his hiding place. A new serving girl had nearly crashed into Belladonna and spilled soup on the floor.
Connor had met her—her name was Eve.
Belladonna pulled out her whip and Eve dropped to her knees, trembling. She held her hand up, bracing herself for whatever Belladonna was going to do.
Connor rushed between them and placed his hand on Belladonna’s wrist. She glared.
“The tea and cakes. You mustn’t be late.” He nudged Eve to her feet while Belladonna stood there, frozen.
Eve stared at him.
He pulled the napkin off the tray and wiped up the spill, then placed it back. “Hurry.” If she didn’t see the urgency in his eyes and run, there wasn’t going to be much else he could do to help her.
She scurried away, glancing over her shoulder.
He faced Belladonna. “You have authority to whip Franco’s servants now?”
“You? Oh, how noble.” Belladonna scoffed. “Cleaning up messes for serving girls. Surely Balton will want you as captain in his guard soon. Keep groveling.”
He wanted to snarl.
Madison caught his eye, and a smile flashed across her face.
He would do what he could to help her. Trouble was, he didn’t know how yet.
Belladonna pushed him out of the way and led Madison down the hall.
Side screaming, he stumbled across the hall and into the infirmary. He just needed some salve. Or something to take away the pain.
“What are you looking for m’dear?” A pretty, young blue-eyed lady smiled at him.
“I, um—”
“Sit.” She looked at the blood seeping through his shirt. She lifted the fabric, and he couldn’t hold back a sharp cry. Her other hand flew to her mouth. “You should have told me it was a burn. I’m so sorry, dear. Let me get you something.”
Burned skin dangled off the fabric, but the tender skin beneath was angry red and oozing.
She returned with some sort of salve, and he could almost feel the relief.
“That’s a nasty burn. What hap—?” She froze. She knew.
He started to stand. “I have to go.”
She grabbed his arm. “No.” Her eyes met his. “I saw what you did for that serving girl. She’s my sister. I won’t tell a soul that you came here, but Oswell has told the staff here to be on the lookout for the wolf he hurt. He said someone might come here looking for burn supplies to take to an animal. Be careful.”
“Thank you . . . ?”
“Molly.” Her smile was rueful. “Don’t thank me yet. This is going to sting.”
As she applied the salve, he bit the collar of his shirt and thought about how he had one choice to get out of this. He’d have to use the bracer on Oswell.
Chapter 53
A Wink
and a Smile
Jayden followed Logan through Balta’s city gates. A gust of wind rode through the town, encompassing her with the scent of approaching rain. Heavy rain that the clouds had become weary of holding. This she understood.
She hadn’t seen Westwind and Scout since they’d left the Healers. Logan had said he was sending Aurora to find Gavin and Melanie so they could meet up at Castlerock, but maybe they had all gone. Logan had wanted to keep going, but Jayden’s warning of the storm along with Thea’s predictions had him conceding to stop early and stay a night at the Winking Fox.
When Ethan heard her proclamation about all of Thea’s predictions coming true, he didn’t say a word—just stared at her through squinted eyes. Of course, she hadn’t shared a thing about her heart’s desire . . . or her death.
As that thought touched her mind, the clouds seemed to fall closer to the earth, so heavy with rain.
Logan had tapped his finger against his chin, then shrugged, stating that he had no reason to go against what Jayden thought was right.
That both comforted her and burdened her heart.
Logan led them farther into the city. Serena walked close to Jayden, watching street performers with as much interest as the local blacksmith. Had she ever been in a city?
Jayden glanced behind her, and immediately Ethan smiled. That made her cheeks flush, and she turned back to watch where she was going. Suddenly the clouds didn’t feel quite so heavy.
“Would you look at that?” Serena mot
ioned up toward the sky.
“It’s still going to rain tonight, Serena.” Jayden caught Serena’s look of wonder. Clearly cities put her out of her element.
“I just mean that—the ray of light peeking through. Like hope. There’s always hope if you look for it.”
Jayden’s boots paused as if by their own accord, and she watched Serena for a beat.
Ethan touched her shoulder and she nearly jumped. “You okay?”
Maybe Serena was wrong. Maybe hope couldn’t penetrate some things. Hope and fear warred within. Rumbles of thunder echoed the ache. She had to stop letting him have a hold on her heart. She moved from Ethan’s warmth and faced him. “Just feeling the storm.”
He stared back at her, but all his emotions winked out. Probably better that way. He tipped his head the direction Logan and Serena had gone. “Should we catch up, or were you planning to get wet?” His lopsided smile filled his face.
The storm sent a rush of prickles over her skin that excited her. She’d love to be outside when the rain broke free. A drop pelted her. One dotted Ethan’s shoulder. But the rain wouldn’t come yet. Scout had stayed with the wolves, but typically he never left Ethan’s side during a storm. Maybe she could give him comfort in Scout’s absence. “I’m sorry you don’t like storms.”
“Maybe I just focus on the wrong part.”
He touched her back and nudged her to follow Logan and Serena. As her leaden feet started moving, he dropped his hand, but she still felt the warmth there. Like a ray of hope.
Hope she didn’t want to crush.
In the distance, lightning shot through the sky.
Light shone through the windows at the Winking Fox. A couple exited the inn, giving Jayden a glimpse of the crowd inside. Wooden tables, wooden booths, wooden walls all reflected a warm, yellow glow from the candles. Cool air swirled around her, bearing the clean scent of a storm. Ethan stiffened as they neared the inn. It wasn’t just the storm—he felt different. Not terrified, but . . . anxious.
The more she tried to keep from sensing others’ emotions, the more they clamored to be felt. She gritted her teeth, but who was she fooling? If she’d felt his emotions sooner during that fight with the black lion—his pure fear, his willingness to sacrifice himself to save her—she would have done as he’d asked. No question. No hesitation.
Her talent would have helped her protect him.
Maybe Thea had been right about that, too.
Maybe the old woman at the library had been warning her to let her emotions in. To trust her talent.
Jayden drew closer to Ethan. “Is something wrong?”
Ethan avoided eye contact. “No.”
Serena turned her head sideways. Her amused eyes, visible under the shadow of her hood, held an impish gleam.
Jayden opened her mouth and stared at him. “You’re lying to me?”
Ethan looked pointedly at Serena. “I meant, I don’t feel any danger.”
Her smile didn’t fade, though.
Logan’s dark chuckle brought all of their attention to him. “You afraid of your past, kid?”
“Franco’s got people looking for us. Someone here will recognize me. It might not be safe.”
“Next to Nivek, this is the most Feravolk-friendly place I know. If it’s not safe here, it’s safe nowhere. And we need shelter tonight.” He glanced at Jayden.
If Thea had tricked them again, it would be her last. Still, Jayden felt that trusting the assassin on this one was a good idea.
“All right. I’m going in through the kitchens.” Logan headed down the hill closer to the inn.
The wooden sign carved with a winking fox fluttered in another gust. Ethan’s emotions filtered into her again. She walked closer to him, and he smiled for it.
As promised, Logan led them around back. He lowered his hood before he knocked on the kitchen door. A heavy-set woman with rosy cheeks and friendly eyes opened the door a crack. Warmth from the kitchens spilled out, as did the aromas of lamb stew, fresh bread, and potatoes.
“We are still serving in the lobby until—” She stopped short and drew herself to her full height. “Logan?” She emitted a girlish laugh and pulled the corner of her apron to her blushing face. “Logan Laugnahagn? Is it really you?” She pushed the door open and extended her arms. Logan let the woman hug him. “The Lone Wolf has returned!”
Jayden stopped where she stood, and her mouth dropped open as she watched the woman usher Logan through the door.
“Come in.” The woman stepped aside.
“Lone . . .” Jayden looked at Serena, whose eyes were just as wide as she imagined her own to be.
Jayden found her airy voice. “Did you say ‘Lone Wolf’? As in the most famous swordsman—”
“Didn’t you know?” The woman laughed. “Logan, you didn’t tell your traveling companions?”
Jayden finally stepped through the door. “Lone Wolf.” Her mouth was dry. If her brothers were with her, they’d be clamoring past her to talk to him. And she’d been traveling with him all this time.
Logan chuckled, hearty and loud. “Jayden, please. It’s still me.”
“But you are him?” The heat of the kitchen must be getting to her. She felt flushed and giddy. How many times had she sparred with him in the last months? She pressed her hands to her mouth. “The Lone Wolf has been teaching me to hone my technique?” Her voice escaped in a squeak.
He hugged her into his side. “And I’m impressed by your ability.”
“Now introduce me to your friends.” The woman who had invited them in looked at Jayden and then Serena, but when her gaze fell on Ethan, her mouth opened. Jayden and Serena had to move as the woman hurried toward Ethan and wrapped him in a hug. When she stepped back, she kept her hands on his arms. “Let me look at you. I thought for sure they’d—well, I should have known you’d find a way to escape. Bless you, Child. Bless you.”
“Hello, Martha.”
Her attention was for Logan again, her face ripe in a smile. “You and this boy. I should have known, for all the times I compared him to you.”
Jayden caught Ethan’s swift glance to Logan.
“How do you know him? Is he—” Martha looked at Ethan and her eyes grew wide, but she offered no one a chance to interrupt her. “Of course. He’s your son. I should have seen it. He’s always reminded me of you.”
Logan grinned and patted Ethan’s shoulder. “I’d be proud if he were.”
“I could have put money on that one.” Martha shrugged. “Now, who are these lovely young women?”
“This is Serena and Jayden.” Logan put a hand on each of their shoulders as he introduced them.
Martha smiled warmly at each of them. “You must be famished. I’ll get a table for you. Wait here.” She barked some orders to get them hot food and two rooms prepared. Then she scurried into the dining room.
Jayden hoped the clatter in the kitchen hid her stomach’s rumble.
The kitchen door opened again after Martha left, and a tall, slender young woman entered. Her long, dark hair was tied behind her back in a loose braid. She set a serving tray on the counter. “Ethan?” She practically jumped into Ethan’s arms and hugged him tight.
He squeezed her back, lifting her off the floor. Heat spread across Jayden’s chest.
Serena touched her shoulder and whispered, “Careful, Jayden, your jealousy is showing.”
Her what? Jealousy? How silly. Why should she be jealous? They were obviously very old, very dear . . . very good friends.
The door opened again, letting some cool air in, and Jayden prayed her face would cool, too. The storm seemed to be picking up speed out there. Rumbling more. Getting angry.
Martha interrupted the hug. Finally. “Tessa, there you are. I went out to find you, but it seems you’ve found our Ethan.”
Our Ethan? Martha’s smile was suddenly unappealing, too. Jayden tried to keep from narrowing her eyes while Martha introduced all of them to her daughter.
Finally Martha
led them into the tavern area of the inn. The scent of alcohol hit Jayden, as did the warmth of the atmosphere. She couldn’t help but look around. The high ceilings provided an echo and carried the music from the fiddle player. A staircase led up to the second floor where a few people leaned over the railing watching the commotion below. Carvings in the wood trim resembling floating leaves bordered the walls in the greater dining area. The candles in the chandeliers gave off the soft, golden glow that filled the whole room. Then there was a magnificent stone fireplace with a carving of a winking fox.
They passed tables of people laughing, eating, drinking, and playing games with cards and dice—there was even a chess set with metal pieces—but none of the cheer seemed to infiltrate Jayden’s sour mood. It was strange, really. Even if she didn’t open her talent, this much laughter should have at least made her smile or feel warmth inside. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and squeezed. Maybe she’d been trying too long to push emotions away. Apparently now those around her only affected her mood with emotions like fear or anger. Maybe jealousy.
Martha led them to a booth where a hot meal already waited, guarded by a serving boy. He bowed his head and left when they approached. Steam still rose from bowls of stew, and butter left a shiny glow on the rolls. Jayden’s mouth watered.
Martha left them, and Jayden slid into the booth and had the spoon in her mouth before Serena had even finished straightening her skirts and untying her cloak.
The warm stew heated her whole stomach but did nothing to unclench the knot that had her all worked up.
Serena cocked an eyebrow and stared at Ethan. “So you fought for sport here? Or just at the Blind Pig?”
Ethan nearly choked on his bread.
Serena looked at Logan and shrugged. “I met him at the Blind Pig.” She dipped her chin to her shoulder. “Swallow always fights in a mask.”
Logan’s turn to choke. “You fought for sport? I am sure the Healer’s Circle didn’t know of these adventures.”
“I needed money to buy books, among other things. And no, of course they didn’t. It would have ended my fun.” She looked at Ethan again. “I might not have been a legend, but I did go up against Stone Wolf.”
