Ella
A fine layer of mist covers the ground as I follow Commander Westfall down a steep embankment. Pockets of loose shale give way beside me, tumbling to the ground and shattering like glass. I pull my cloak tighter, grimacing as my feet slip and slide over the uneven ground.
The sun hasn’t risen yet. Stars shine bright above us, the only light to be found.
“We’re almost there,” he says gruffly.
“Well,” I say tartly, glaring at the back of his big, fat head. “Those are the first words you’ve said to me in a kind tone since you died.”
He says nothing, of course. He doesn’t want to be here. I don’t either, but Ryatt is calling the shots, and that means I have to go to the coven to take over–or whatever.
I got one last night with Ryatt before we parted. He left Veiled Valley with Granger shortly before we left, the two of them decked out in leathers and weapons. He’d looked back over his shoulder and nodded at me.
Then he was gone.
Not having the mind-link with him anymore is weighing on me as I follow Westfall on foot toward the river at the base of the valley where Veiled Valley is nestled. High above us, the city sleeps, tucked in a cocoon of rain clouds. I can’t even see the bridges and white stone houses anymore.
But before us, another settlement rises into view. It’s a village–industrial, and a bit worn down, but shockingly busy for the time of day. Boats rock in the gentle current of the river, tethered to docks crawling with fishermen getting ready to start their days.
A few store fronts come to life as we approach. Women in homespun dresses flutter behind foggy windows, pulling up shades and setting out baked goods, fabric, and fish, of course.
“What is this place?” I ask. This isn’t the route I took from Veiled Valley the last time I traveled to the coven, before everything blew up in my face.
“The Docks,” Westfall says without a single glance in my direction. His leather jacket is coated with moisture as we step out of the fog and onto a boardwalk. Several people look in our direction but say nothing as we pass. Wolves pull a cart laden with the tiniest fish I’ve ever seen toward one of the docks where a boat is preparing to set out.
“How creative,” I murmur, looking over my shoulder at the towering mountains behind us.
A bell dings, and I turn to find Westfall stepping into one of the store fronts, a little market. The smell of coffee and pastries is thick as I follow him inside.
“G’mornin’,” says the stout shopkeeper. Her cheeks are as round and pink as apples as she beams at Westfall, but then her dark eyes meet mine. They widen, and she drops into a low curtsy.
“Good morning,” I smile. “It smells wonderful in here.”
“Oh,” she says, straightening up with a furious blush spreading across her neck and cheeks. “Thank you, Luna. The pastries are fresh from the oven.”
“Let’s buy some,” I say to Westfall, who is inspecting a shelf full of sundries–bags of oats, fried fruit and vegetables, and stacks of flatbread and salted, canned fish.
“Whatever you purchase, you need to eat now, before we shift.”
My nostrils flare with impatience as I watch him gather a few items. Turning back to the shopkeeper with a graceful smile, I order a half dozen pastries and two cups of her strongest tea. I mix a copious amount of sugar and milk into mine and hand Westfall the plain cup. He looks at it skeptically before accepting it.
As the shopkeeper rings up his items, a group of grubby looking men walk into the store, bringing the scent of marshy riverbank with them.
I turn to peer at the group, who sits down at a table by the window, dirty footprints left in their wake.
“How many did he say there were?” one of them says. He flexes his bloody hands, and my heart rate flutters as I look each man up and down fully, taking in every detail.
“What the hell happened to you all?” I say, louder than I’d meant to. The men turn to me in shock and seem to have just noticed my presence. They stand abruptly, bowing low. “Luna–”
I look from man to man, and focus my attention on the youngest. He’s barely old enough to shift, but judging by his clothes, and the way his eyes are shining, and his canines are still slightly elongated, that’s exactly what he’d just been doing.
Their grubby, sodden clothing gives it away. Cache clothing. There’s caches littered all over the Roguelands full of clothes and supplies.
“We were hunting,” says the eldest man.
I feel Westfall edging closer to me as I approach the table.
“Hunting and came upon a camp around ten miles north, through Fenwyrd Pass.”
“What kind of camp?” Westfall looks down at their bloodied hands, and the bruises beginning to form on their jaws.
“Rogue,” says the youngest man, his voice full of gravel. “We think.”
“There were at least five of ‘em. Almost lost Jace here, but he ran like hell. They chased us for a while before bankin’ off into the woods again. Doubt they’ll follow.”
The youngest man blushes and glares at what I believe might be his father and the eldest man his grandfather.
“Rogues don’t run in packs,” Westfall says in a bored voice. He turns from the men, but the grandfather clears his throat.
“They had a woman with them. A witch, we think. She was callin’ the shots. We got outta there by the skin of our teeth, Commander.”
“Through Fenwyrd Pass, you say?” Westfall sips from his tea and watches the men nod. “Thank you, gentlemen.” Without another word, he grabs my elbow and forcefully yanks me out of the shop.
I clutch my box of pastries to my chest, my tea spilling over the rim of the thick paper cup. “Hey!”
“Change of plans,” he murmurs, scanning the dock. His grip on my arm is like iron as he starts briskly marching forward, dragging me behind him.
Fishermen crowd the docks, loading bait and nets onto boats as the sun finally begins to rise over the tops of the mountains. Waterfalls of melted snow cascade down the mountainsides, catching the sun in ribbons of multicolored light before spilling into the wide, lazy river.
Everyone gives us a wide berth. I don’t blame them. Westfall looks murderous as he drags me, their Luna, across the slippery boards of the dock, toward an inconspicuous wooden boat that is big enough to fit four people at the most.
Commander Westfall snatches my box of pastries from my arms and gives it to the owner of the boat, saying, “I’m commandeering your vessel at the behest of Alpha Ryatt.” Then, without so much as a warning glance in my direction, he swoops me up and tosses me into the boat.
“What the hell!”
A shrill cry sounds in the distance. Birds are startled from the sparse trees surrounding the shore. All of the activity on the dock pauses, the only sound the flapping of frantic wings and the slow hum of the water lapping at the shore.
Then it starts. Howls rip through the air. Screams of shock, bellowed commands, and the sound of ripping clothing blur into a vacuum of noise as Westfall jumps into the boat and pushes off the dock with so much force I almost topple over..
I fumble with my tea, spilling it all over my thick pants and pale cream sweater I’m wearing beneath my cloak. “Shit!”
“Head down, Ella!” He shouts, and when I don’t immediately obey, he shoves my head between my knees.
The current pulls us away from the dock, but when Westfall grabs the oars, I poke my head up and gasp.
Dozens of wolves are charging into the sleepy little fishing village. Their eyes glow with red light, their teeth a startling white against their black and brown fur. Westfall grunts with effort, trying to steer us toward the swiftly moving current at the center of the river, but a trio of enemy wolves spot us.
Spot me.
I raise a hand in their direction and send a ripple of light toward them, only for it to rebound and explode against some invisible barrier. The magic sings through my veins but burns so much I cry out in pain. That’s new. It never hurt to use my fire before. A wave of dizziness crashes into me like a tidal wave. My vision goes dark and blurry at the edges and a deep, raw ache blossoms on my thigh where Ryatt’s mark used to be.
“W-Westfall!” I shout, pointing to the dock.
He turns his head and curses as the three wolves leap into the water.
One of them jumps farther than the others.
I barely have time to suck in a breath before the wolf crashes into the boat and sends it tipping over, dumping all three of us into the water.
‘We’re being attacked!’ I should through the mind-link. Amanda might be the only person who I can connect with at this point, but if enemies are this close to Veiled Valley, something has gone terribly wrong.
My head pops above water for a split second before I’m sucked under again by the current and swept further away from the dock, from the shore, and from Westfall.
“ELLA!” Westfall’s voice rips over the rushing water as I break the surface against, flailing, trying to get a hold on what’s up and what’s down.
“Here! I’m–” I’m sucked under again, but frantically kick my legs. My heavy cloak is tangled around my feet, ballooning out behind me and acting as a sail that drags me further and further away. “Westfall!”
I reach up and unclasp the cloak, freeing myself, and fight like hell to stay afloat.
The river is deep, wide, and fast moving at the center. I can feel the way it’s tugging me into that center current as I start swimming toward where Westfall is wrestling with the wolf.
I have a flash of memory of Ryatt at the shore of the lake in Moonrise when Westfall’s eyes light on mine. Ryatt had been stunned, so full of concern as he’d fallen to his knees at the water’s edge.
Westfall has the same look in his own eyes as the wolf turns its barrel-sized head toward me and clacks its massive jaws.
“Ella, go!”
My heart races as the wolf tries to decide between killing Westfall and following me down the current.
“ELLA, GO, NOW!” Westfall screams, and he doesn’t need to tell me twice.
I suck in a breath and disappear under the water’s surface just as the wolf starts to swim in my direction.
Powers. I can use my powers. I can…
I send them forward again, lighting up the water with crimson, but the ache in my thigh twists and explodes, forcing the breath I’d been holding from my lungs.
I start choking on water, my arms reaching toward the surface, but I’m sinking now, the current dragging me down, down, down until there’s nothing but darkness.
Then the main current finds me and slams into my body, catapulting me into even deeper darkness.
I gasp, fighting for breath. I can’t tell if the surface is getting farther away, or if my eyes are going dark, and I’m drowning, but… I slip away, my body going numb, and my panic turns into blissful, all-encompassing quiet.
Wake up, Princess.
I suck in a breath the moment my back hits something hard. I roll over, spitting out what feels like gallons of water. Sunlight burns my eyes. I blink rapidly to try to clear my vision.
Hands are pressing down on my shoulders before I have a moment to register that I’m even out of the river and back on dry land.
Where am I? How long have I been unconscious?
Someone walks toward me and crouches, their form blocking out the glare of the sun.
Long, platinum hair dusts the ground as I slowly look up.
“Look what the tide dragged in,” Petra purrs, her mouth pulled into a cat-like grin.