“They wanted to hunt one together.”
“We’ll find them, Jonas.” It seemed poor comfort to give.
The king slid from his horse with a weary sigh, handing the reins off to a knight, and led the way into the inn.
The wide common room was nearly empty of customers and a low fire flickered on the hearth. Murmurs of conversation paused as the five armed men stepped in, breaking the peaceful quiet with the tread of heavy boots and the tell-tale clank of swords.
“Evening.” Jonas’s friendly greeting seemed to allay the uncertain looks sent their way.
“Evenin’, sir.” Most of the scattered customers returned his greeting before picking up their conversations again.
“Einar,” the king spoke softly to him. “Let’s see what the innkeeper might know.”
Einar followed the king over to the worn oak bar, where the innkeeper and a young man who was a less weather-beaten version of him worked to tap a new barrel of ale.
“Just a minute, sirs,” he called in a gruff voice.
Einar leaned comfortably against the bar. He didn’t mind waiting, as long as it meant a mug of whatever they were tapping. He pulled his gloves off, flexing the fingers of his left hand that occasionally stiffened on him, courtesy of an old injury.
Jonas watched the men with interest—and a bit of giddy enthusiasm, to Einar’s amusement, at being treated like a normal person.
“What can I do for you, sirs?” The innkeeper wiped his hands on a cloth.
“Dinner and rooms for at least a night,” Einar spoke up before the king could begin the interrogation. Best to attend to basic needs first, in case Jonas pressed too hard and alienated their host.
“You two and those three?” The man jerked his chin to the soldiers.
“And one more who’s out helping with the horses.”
The man nodded. “We have plenty of space. Rooms’ll be ready when you’re done with dinner.”
“One more question for you.” Jonas stopped the man before he turned away. “We’re looking for several people.” He gave a rough description of Lars and the girl.
“Haven’t seen anyone like that…” the man began but was interrupted as his son joined them.
“They came in two nights ago when you were gone. Stayed t’ night and left t’ next morning.”
“They say where they were headed?” Jonas leaned over the bar.
“He said he and his sister were going t’ visit some family in Myrnius. Didn’t much look like siblings, though. Maybe more like a noble’s son who ran off with a commoner he fancied.”
“Jannik!” His father glared, but the young man just shrugged and retrieved six mugs from under the counter.
He’s observant. “Anyone else with them?” Einar asked.
“Just a dog. Looked like a wolf. Stayed with them t’ whole time.”
“Inside?” The innkeeper raised suspicious eyebrows.
“It was well behaved. And it was raining.” Jannik gave a helpless shrug.
His father shook his head with a sigh. “Just don’t let it get t’ be a habit.”
Good thing the boy has a soft spot, since that “dog” is a prince of Calvyrn.
“Henri was here two nights ago.” Jannik pointed to a stoop-shouldered man sipping his mug of ale by the fire. “I know he spoke with them. He might have some more information for you.”
Jonas wasted no time crossing the room to take a seat by the man. Einar left him to it, ordering dinner for the company before joining them. Henri, it seemed, hadn’t needed much coaxing to recall Rose, her brother Ivar, and that clever dog of theirs.
“Polite young ‘uns.” He took a generous swig of ale, swiping a few stray drops from his greying beard with a shirt sleeve. “What is it you wanted with ‘em?” He squinted.
“They got mixed up in a bit of trouble. Family is worried.” Jonas reassured him with a smile.
“Then ‘ere’s hoping you find ‘em.” Henri lifted his mug in salute.
“You see where they went?” Einar signaled for another mug to replace Henri’s precariously low beaker.
“Saw ‘em talking with someone a day or so ago. He comes in every now and again t’ do some smithy work. Strong-looking fella, never ‘ave caught his name. Thinking maybe they left with ‘im.”
No more definite information seemed forthcoming from Henri, so they left him with his new mug and moved to their table.
“Now to determine where they are in Myrnius.” Jonas rubbed his eyes.
“If they’re searching for a faery, they’ll stay in Celedon.” One of the knights leaned his elbows on the table. “I know that doesn’t narrow it down much, but still.”
“Could have already met one.” Einar found it hard to believe Lars and Killian would have gone off with a stranger otherwise.
“I suppose we’ll find out. I’ll use the stone tomorrow to summon the help that river faery promised.” Jonas touched the pocket that housed the faery’s enchanted stone.
The table fell silent as the innkeeper and Jannik brought food and fresh ale, the weary knights more than content to focus on the thick venison stew over the worries of tomorrow.
Einar tipped the last of his ale down his throat and signaled Jannik, only see the young man staring at him. Einar stood and instead went up to the bar, where Jannik turned to the barrels and filled him another mug. Jannik lingered after exchanging it for Einar’s empty mug.
“You need something, lad?” Einar kept his voice kind.
Jannik rubbed the back of his neck, casting a glance at the nearby patrons, before leaning half a step closer.
“No, sir. But it’s just that there’s been a story about town. Prince Killian turned t’ a wolf and Prince Lars and a Ranger seeking a way to break t’ curse.” He fiddled with the empty mug and darted glances at the men at the table, his eyes lingering on Jonas.
Einar took a sip of his ale. “Seems a fanciful tale.”
“Aye, sir. Don’t know I would have believed it, but I know what I saw. The ones you’re looking for aren’t siblings, and that was a wolf if I’ve ever seen one.”
Einar leaned forward, beckoning him to step out of the hearing of the few customers that lounged near the bar.
“You’ve got a good mind, lad. Now, I’m not saying if you’re wrong or right, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t repeat that to anyone just yet.”
Jannik bobbed his head, his eyes wide as he took in the company again. He retreated without a word, but Einar had a feeling the secret would stay that way. At least until they left Moss.
*
Bright beams of morning sunlight snuck through the narrow window, shining brighter in delight as Einar rubbed heavy eyes. Jonas’s snores still rumbled from the pile of blankets on the opposite bed.
Einar picked grit from his eyes, laying still for a few more minutes, and wished he could forget he’d woken up. He was too old to be rushing across the countryside in search of faeries and run-away nephews.
“You awake?” Jonas grumbled.
“What if I said no?”
“Well, it’s been awhile since I’ve slept until noon, but I wouldn’t mind trying.”
Einar pushed back his blanket with a chuckle and sat up. “You’ve gone soft, Jonas. A few nights on the road and you’re completely worn out.”
“Don’t pretend you’re not, Einar. How old will you be this wintertide?”
“Shut up.” Einar bit his cheeks to stave off a groan as he slid from bed and reached for his tunic.
Jonas emerged from the blankets with a grumble reminiscent of the brown bears that inhabited the southern hills. He ran a hand through tousled brown hair, trying to comb it into some order.
Einar pulled his boots on, half-heartedly fiddling with the knotted laces before giving up. He’d deal with it later.
Two of the knights were already downstairs and breakfast was on the way, judging by the savory scent of bacon filtering from the kitchen. Jannik served the meal, studiously avoiding eye con
tact and responding to any request with alacrity.
Einar smothered a steaming biscuit with apple butter and shook his head. He shouldn’t have said anything last night. The poor lad would work himself to exhaustion trying to take care of them.
After the breakfast dishes had been cleared, Einar and Jonas stepped out into the cobblestone courtyard separating the inn from the stables, which took up two sides of the square. A well graced the center of the courtyard.
“Standing water.” Einar indicated it with a shrug.
Jonas pulled the stone from his tunic, turning it over in his hand, before crossing to the well with abrupt strides and flinging the stone into its depths.
Einar wasn’t sure what he had expected, but a delayed splash and ensuing silence wasn’t quite it. He waited a long minute before joining Jonas.
“Now what?”
“Pray it worked. And wait.” Jonas’s lips tilted down into a grim frown as he stared into the darkness, where their hope of finding the boys now rested.
A low bench rested against the back wall of the inn, the stones just beginning to warm under the caress of the morning sun. They could do nothing but sit and wait.
*
The sun paused overhead, sending down extra warmth with its noonday rays, when they received the first indication that the stone had worked. Einar closed his eyes against the sunlight, trying to doze and ignore the restlessness of Jonas’s leg beside him and the echoing clatter as the knights sparred.
“Excuse me?”
His eyes flew open, blinking as he saw a young woman standing before them. She offered a tentative smile, pressing her hands into the folds of her skirt.
“Can we help you?” He instinctively stood.
Her simple blue gown contrasted with an air about her that hinted she was anything but what she seemed. The woman tilted her face up to meet his gaze.
“I think it’s more what I can do for you.” She studied Jonas, who had also pushed to his feet. “You released the message?”
“Yes!” Jonas’s voice rose in eagerness.
The knights began to gather around, but the woman did not seem concerned. She dipped a curtsey to Einar and Jonas.
“My name is Adela. We received the message because we met your sons and Rose two days ago.”
“How are they?” Jonas crossed his arms.
“They are well.” She smiled. “They are under our protection.”
Jonas’s shoulders sloped in relief and Einar felt as if a load had been released from his heart.
Thank the Creator they’re safe!
“Lars and Killian both wanted to let you know they were safe and perhaps apologize for running away. I don’t think they know their father came too.” She smiled at Jonas.
“Where are they? What of the curse? Is Killian…?”
Adela raised a hand to halt Jonas’s questions.
“He is still a wolf. The curse laid upon him is a strong one, but my husband is doing all he can. They are helping us hunt the sorcerer—”
“What?” Einar raised his eyebrows. What are those boys thinking?
“That’s too dangerous!” Jonas scowled and shifted a hand to his knife.
“It may be the only chance we have of capturing the sorcerer and ending the curse,” Adela spoke gently, but with a dignified firmness that brooked no argument.
“I need to see them,” Jonas said. “Can you take us to them?”
“Of course. That’s why I’ve…” Her eyes widened in horror and she turned away towards the forest. She clapped a hand over her mouth but couldn’t stifle a gasp.
“What’s wrong?” Einar took a step forward, hesitant to touch her.
She stepped away, a pair of creamy wings tinged with blue exploding from her back.
“Stay here! I’ll be back!”
Einar closed his eyes against a gust of wind that knocked him back on his heels. When he opened them again, the faery had vanished.
Chapter 24
Killian watched from a safe distance as Felix kindled a small fire. The forest had begun to echo with the merry chatter of the morning. He came to his paws with an extended stretch. The others had yet to wake.
Nervousness prickled along his fur as an image of the sorcerer shoved its way into his mind. I knew I’d regret this. He padded away from the small clearing, investigating the outer ring of pines before jumping to a run around its narrow confines.
He paused at the pool to drink, blinking at the wolf that stared back. The deer carcass still lay nearby, untouched. His gut twisted. He didn’t know if he could stomach a meal.
Do wolves get nervous, or is this just the human part of me?
The murmur of voices brought his head up. The camp was stirring. He loped back to the clearing before anyone could worry.
He wasn’t the only one lacking an appetite. Rose nibbled at cold jerky and Lars nursed a mug of kaffe kindly heated by Adela. The faery sifted through the contents of her satchel, the corner of her mouth pinched into a frown of concentration. Felix and Damian checked their weapons, swords and daggers of a quality that made Killian and Lars’s fine steel look like playthings.
Killian crept closer, eager for a better look. Damian glanced at him.
“These are high quality, even for faeries.” He held his sword out on both palms. “Felix is the best smith you’ll ever find.”
A snow leopard leaped across the blade, etched into the steel, flanked on either side by runes. The castle smith had once attempted something similar, but the blade had broken with one strike. But the handle was worn to Damian’s hand, and a tell-tale nick in the crossguard indicated that Damian’s sword had seen combat.
“That’s beautiful.”
Damian’s smile shone with pride, as if he made it himself. “That’s what I tell him, but he won’t listen.”
“Because next you’ll make me take commissions and you know how much I hate doing that.” Felix sheathed a knife.
“Because you’d have to play nice with someone?” Adela chimed in.
“You know the only reason I tolerate you is because he’s still ridiculous about you?” Felix leveled a glare at her, but a smile lurked not too far beneath.
Adela’s laugh cut short as a ripple swept through the forest. Killian made out a few words, but nothing was clear. Rose tilted her head, her brow puckering. The faeries rose to their feet.
“Well, it looks like someone is looking for you.” Damian glanced at them. “A water faery gave them a message for us.”
“Do you know who it is?” Lars frowned.
“Sir Einar and five knights.”
Killian pricked up his ears at the mention of their uncle. “Where?”
“The town where Felix found you.”
Lars set his mug aside and stood. “What should we do?”
“It would be helpful to have the humans on our side, especially since we don’t know how many men the sorcerer has.” Felix buckled on his sword.
Damian slowly nodded, but before he could speak, a thunderclap echoed and shocked the forest into stillness. Killian instinctively looked up at the cloudless sky.
“The sorcerer.” Felix spat, staring away at the forest.
“What’s he doing, releasing that kind of power?” Damian clenched his sword.
“Drawing us out?” Felix ran a hand over the metal rod tucked beside a knife.
“We can’t ignore it. Or the faery’s message.”
“I’ll go to Moss,” Adela said. “You two investigate. The three of them will be safe within the warding.”
Indecision warred over Damian’s features.
“Go.” Lars nodded. “We’ll stay here.”
I’ll be more than happy to stay far away from Noak as possible. Killian whined as another echo flooded the forest.
Damian and Felix sped away, Adela vanishing in the opposite direction. The three companions stood in the sudden silence. The explosions of the sorcerer’s power echoed a few more times before fading away. The noise of the f
orest gradually returned, and they settled in to wait.
I hate not knowing what I’m waiting for. Killian tucked his tail around his hind paws as he settled down.
Half an hour crept by. Lars paced, and Rose built a sizeable pile of shredded grass and leaves.
A new cry split the air.
It echoed again. Killian picked out a plea for help. Rose struggled to her feet, her freckles standing out against her pale face.
“That’s—that’s my father!”
Lars stared at her. “Are you sure?”
“I—I think—” She gained confidence as a whistle pierced the air. “That’s his call. It’s him!” She clapped a hand over her mouth as the scream rose, infused with panic.
Killian leapt to his paws. What do we do? Noak is still out there.
“Rose,” Lars began gently. “We don’t know if that’s him or not.”
She shook her head. “I know! I know t’ sorcerer’s out there. But what if it really is him? We don’t know when Felix and Damian will be back.” She clenched her hands with a strangled scream of frustration.
Killian exchanged a glance with Lars. He didn’t need to know what Lars was thinking. He growled to let Lars know he agreed.
“Rose, it’s your decision. It’s a risk and we all know it, but it could be a chance to find your father. You know he was tracking the sorcerer. It could be him.”
Rose bit her lip until it bled as another cry echoed. She grabbed her bow and strung it. “Let’s go.”
“Killian, stay here,” Lars ordered.
Killian flattened his ears and glared up at Lars. “Not on your life. You two might need help.”
“Killi, don’t be stupid!”
Rose stepped through the warding, barely stopping to look back at them in impatience. Killian growled and darted after her. Lars swore and joined them.
Killian took the lead, able to pinpoint the exact location of the sound with his wolf’s hearing. It had carried further than he anticipated, but he finally slowed.
We’re here.
Another clearing appeared a few paces away. The last cry echoed around the watching trees, but nothing stirred.
The forest had gone silent. Not even a branch creaked as the breeze died. The faint ring of steel startled Killian until he saw Lars’s sword in his hand.
The Wolf Prince Page 15
