*Ella*
I have no idea what I’m doing. I have no clue where we are, or what to expect when we reach the witches. In my defense, I jumped through the portal blind, unsure what awaited me on the other side beside my mate, who I’d be happy to never see again.
I stare into the small warming fire and hug my knees to my chest. The thought of Ryatt causes an ache to spread through my chest, tightening my muscles. My mate.
Some people go their whole lives without finding their mates. I should feel blessed that I've found him so soon.
Right now, I feel like throwing myself off the bluff we’re sitting next to with a sweeping view of the valley below at our backs.
Amanda and Gemma sit beside me facing the forest while their two friends, still in their wolf forms, doze next to the sled where Hannah still lingers in a coma. Amanda brought enough food to feed a small army, but even after not eating for an entire twenty-four hours, I can’t bring myself to take more than a few bites of a sandwich and some fruit she packed.
“Here,” Gemma says, placing a metal cup in my hands. She pours a dark liquid into the cup from a thermos.
The scent of wine hits me, and I shudder with relief. “Thank you,” I say, giving her a tight smile. I sip from the wine, my eyes growing more and more heavy as the minutes tick by. It’s nearly sunrise, and we’re finally taking a moment to rest.
Judging by Amanda’s tight stance and demeanor, this rest won’t last long. “We have another fifteen miles to go today. We’re out of the Deadlands, so you can all shift. It won’t take us long to get to the witches.” She claps her hands and begins gathering up the food containers.
“Us?” I ask, turning to face Amanda. “Why wouldn’t you shift, as well?”
Amanda ignores me completely.
“We should give them another hour to rest,” Gemma says, jabbing a thumb toward the wolves sleeping soundly next to the sled. “They’re exhausted.”
“We need to move,” Amanda argues with a look into the dense, dark forest in front of us. “The last thing I want is to get caught out here by rogues.”
I tip my cup and finish my wine, letting the alcohol bloom through my veins and soften the tension I feel creeping through my tired, sore muscles. “Rogues? Isn’t Ryatt the Rogue King?”
Amanda crouches as she stuffs everything back into one of the heavy packs in front of her. “King Ryatt is the king of all the packs who have territories along the mountains, the packs who refuse to pledge their loyalty to Alpha King Kane. Our packs, our people, are considered rogue by the King of Eastonia’s standards, but we’re not rogues.”
Her eyes darkened, and the word rogue lingers in the air between us.
“The rogues Amanda’s worried about are a different sort entirely,” Gemma adds, sensing my confusion.
“They bow to no king, follow no Alpha, and they don’t run in packs. They’re soulless, Ella. Men and women who gave up their souls in exchange for ultimate wolf power. They lose themselves completely to it, forgetting who they are entirely. Their only objective is primal violence.”
A shiver runs up my spine as a distant memory floods my mind. My dad fought a rogue like that once, during his journey to return the Diamond of Faith to its temple. We have rogues in our kingdom as well, but they’re not soulless. They just don’t belong to a pack and are bitter about it.
“They’re disgusting creatures,” Gemma says lightly, leaning her back against a tree. “Some are nearly hairless, and they’re gray.”
“With yellow teeth the size of daggers,” Amanda purrs, baring her teeth at me.
“And just as sharp,” Gemma adds pointedly, running her tongue along her lower teeth.
“Well, now you’re just trying to scare me,” I laugh.
“You should be scared.” Amanda continues to crouch but rests her elbows on her knees. She meets my eyes, a very serious expression sharpening her features. “We’re in their lands, Ella. We are their prey. They feast upon the blood of maidens. Some packs closest to the Deadlands still offer tribute to the rogues to keep them from stealing young women and children from the villages. However, King Ryatt has tried to do away with that practice in recent years.”
My mouth goes dry. “Tribute?”
“A sacrifice,” Gemma says, then winces, shaking her head.
“Well,” I say, clapping my hands on my thighs and rising to my feet. Enough of that. I dust dead leaves and dirt from my pants and look at Gemma and Amanda expectantly. “I’m ready to go now.”
“Mhm… Thought so.” Amanda grabs her pack with a smile, and motions for Gemma to wake up the wolves. “We’re going to put the packs on the sled. I can put harnesses on you and Gemma to help pull–”
A shrieking, whizzing sound cuts through the air, and suddenly the tree right above my head explodes in a shower of bark and splintered wood. I duck as another object hurtles toward me, this time only missing me by mere inches before getting lodged in the tree. I look up in time to see a long, finely crafted blade stuck in the wood.
Amanda pulls me to the ground beside her and Gemma. “Gemma, shift, now! Take the sled and go!”
Gemma wastes no time, her clothes ripping and falling to the ground as her slight, grayish yellow wolf leaps over us to where the sled is parked. The two other wolves are wide awake, and before I can process what’s happening, they’re gone, taking Hannah with them.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Amanda says, over and over as she digs through one of the packs. In the forest, voices begin to rise, drifting toward us on a cold breeze. Amanda looks up at me, “Shift, Ella, go! Why are you still here?”
“Why are you still here?”
“I’m the leader of this group. I’m going to lead this threat away while you make a break for the witches.”
“Does Gemma know the way?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m staying with you.”
Amanda’s hazel eyes shine in the sunrise as golden light begins to peel over the valley below us. “Are you trained?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t just mean in your wolf form. Can you fight with blades?”
I heave a breath as the voices get closer, and the sounds of snarling begin to encroach on our location, the two of us blocked from view by the tree above us. “I can. Are these rogues?”
“No, worse,” she answers, and I see the flash of metal pass between us. She passes me a dagger with an ivory handle. I curl it in my fist as she says, “These are males–who smell females.”
I hold Amanda’s gaze as we lay in wait, a silent understanding passing between us. We need to stop whoever is coming our way from following Gemma and Hannah at any cost. They cannot find her friends, or mine.
How’d I end up here, lying on the forest floor with a perfect stranger, a dagger in my hand? I’m not sure what I’d been imagining my time here would be like. Locked in a castle somewhere as Ryatt’s prisoner? Maybe.
Jumping to my feet and pulling the dagger from the tree and turning to face a wolf now lunging toward us through the muted sunrise?
Definitely not.
I roar with every ounce of energy in my body, baring my teeth and tossing the daggers with expert skill. The wolf screeches in pain and surprise before falling to its side and sliding to a stop only six feet from where we’d been hiding. Amanda is up on her feet in an instant. She gives me a satisfied look in passing as she runs toward the wolf, pulling the blades from its neck.
But my triumph is short-lived. A dozen wolves move in on us, their eyes shining with violence in the golden light now filtering through the trees. We’re totally, wholly outnumbered.
Even with my training–both in the wolf arts, and self-defense–which had been honed to a T thanks to the royal guards always hanging around the castle during my youth, I know without a shadow of a doubt we don’t stand a chance.
I don’t dare take my eyes off of them long enough to glance at Amanda to see whether or not she’s thinking the same thing. We could shift. We could run. But two verses twelve are terrible odds.
And if they find Hannah… Oh, Goddess. She wouldn’t even be able to fight back. She wouldn’t even know danger is near before it’s too late.
We have to distract them long enough for Gemma and Hannah to get far away from here.
“Drop your knives, Amanda,” I say, doing my best to keep my voice void of the fear now crackling through my veins. My heart thunders as the wolves close in on us and surround us, making it impossible to run past them into the woods. The bluff behind us is our only escape, and our chances of survival if we jump…
“What do you want?” Amanda says to the wolves. “Who is your leader?”
We hold our ground as the wolves come within three feet of us, the stench of rotten forest and decay oozing off their filthy coats.
She was right. These are not the rogue beasts with glowing eyes Gemma and Amanda told me about. I scan the pack, my eyes narrowed as I search for their Alpha. They belong to someone. Someone is guiding their actions, speaking into their minds.
Movement in the tree line behind them catches my attention. Four men step toward us through the brush circling the bluff, all of them dressed in leathers and furs, their belts glinting with weapons.
“My, my, my,” says a tall man with strikingly red hair and a matching full beard. He walks between the wolves and comes to a stop right in front of us. “What do we have here?” His pale green eyes rove over Amanda then flicker to me. He takes his time inspecting me, however.
I feel Amanda stiffen beside me. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye and see her watching me closely, her face blank but her eyes full of something I can only describe as a desperate plea.
Do not use your powers.
She’d said that to me last night. Under no circumstances should I use them.
But if it’s between life and death?
“Who are you?” I ask, my tone dripping with malice.
The Alpha’s brows raise, nearly touching his forehead. “Me?”
“He’s the Magpie,” Amanda says softly beside me, the words drifting on the cool breeze.
“I see my reputation precedes me,” he croons at Amanda, taking a moment to look her over with an appraising gaze. He turns back to me, smiling. “Do you know why they call me that?”
“Does it have anything to do with the size of your brain?” I counter.
His eyes narrow. “A funny one, I see. That won’t do.” He snaps his fingers and two men step forward. “I want this one gagged. But this beauty–” he turns to Amanda and goes as far as to run his large, scarred, and calloused fingers over her smooth cheek. “Golden, isn’t she? This one will fetch a price, and we’re just in time for the auction.”
My blood runs cold, my powers igniting against my will. I could kill them all. I can feel it in my bones. I could turn them to mist and ash, just like that.
Amanda, sensing this, lets out an uncharacteristic whimper. She meets my eyes, and shakes her head only once, a firm no.
“You’ll regret this,” I say as his men step toward me, one of them taking me by the hair while the other begins to wrap a length of leather cord around my head, and my mouth, to silence me.
The Alpha smiles at me, pleased with the work his men have done. “They call me the Magpie because I’m a collector of fine things,” he begins, tracing one of his disgustingly rough fingers over my cheek. “Women are my specialty.” He turns from me, clapping his hands. “Let’s go.”
We’re forced to move, our hands bound together with iron shackles.
He should have used silver on me. It’s a mistake he’ll regret soon enough. Wherever he’s taking us, well, it’ll be nothing but rubble when I’m done.