Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
T he next morning, Egith meets us at the Strategos training field. She waits until we’ve all lined up beside our wolves. Anassa pads over to me, her silver-white fur shining in the winter sunlight, but she doesn’t spare a look at me.
“ Good morning to you, too ,” I direct at her. Nothing.
“Congratulations, Rawbonds,” Egith announces. “You have reached a crucial new phase of your training.”
There’s a murmur from the others and Izabel shoots me an excited glance. Not sure why she’s so happy,
A new phase means tougher challenges. More opportunities to fail.
“Now that you’ve passed the Voice Trial, we must begin training to access the deeper abilities unique to each pack,” Egith continues. “As you well know, every pack has its own powers. Among the Strategos, our wolves can share their enhanced strategic abilities, which are heightened by pack unity.”
Here Egith pauses, her sharp gaze swinging over us to ensure we’re all paying attention.
“In battle,” she says, “these skills are absolutely indispensable. They manifest in several key ways. One: an almost prescient understanding of troop movements. Two: the ability to spot weaknesses in enemy formations. Three: to calculate odds and outcomes with supernatural precision. However,” she turns to look directly at me, raising one eyebrow, “accessing this power requires complete synchronization between wolf and rider.”
I sigh. Great, thanks for the vote of confidence, Egith .
“When I say your connection with your wolf must be complete, I mean it,” Egith adds, pacing down the first row of Rawbonds, passing Perielle, who stands haughtily next to her wolf. They probably have a perfect connection.
“You must think as one mind, share the same purpose. Only when you can all achieve that kind of unity with your wolves will you be able to link mentally as a pack—a skill that heightens your powers in times of great need. So trust your wolves and let them guide you into the pack unity. They know what to do.”
Again, Egith glances at me.
“Make no mistake, Rawbonds—this will not be easy. Some of you will fail. And if you can’t overcome that failure, it will end in your elimination from the pack.”
Really loving the pep talk .
With that, she gives the ‘go ahead’ gesture and waits for us to… I don’t know what.
I look around at the other Rawbonds to find them all closing their eyes and breathing deeply as though in meditation. A few of them gasp, jolting visibly as something passes between them and their wolves.
Oh. Right. Guess we’re doing the thing.
To my left, Izabel releases a long, shuddering breath. “I see… a battlefield.”
“Me, too,” says another Rawbond near the front of the group. “It’s so clear—like I’m watching it happen with my own eyes!”
“Good,” says Egith. “Focus in. Let the visions unfold. What are your wolves trying to show you?”
I glance at Anassa while the others begin describing their visions of battles and the strategies that won—or lost—them.
“So… should we try it?” I ask her.
No answer. She doesn’t even look at me. When I reach out to her through the bond, my heart drops.
The iron wall is back, just as impenetrable as before.
“Dammit, I thought we were past this crap!” I think at her, knowing she can sense my feelings even if she won’t hear my words.
No response.
Fuck.
I have no choice but to stand there and pretend to meditate so Egith’s watchful gaze doesn’t clock my failure. At least I’m not the only one who doesn’t seem to receive any visions.
One of a few, anyway.
Eventually, Egith calls the exercise to a close, ending our lesson with a bone-chilling announcement.
“Practice deepening your bonds with your wolves as much as possible in the following weeks, Rawbonds,” she says gravely. “The Purge Trial will be here before you know it, which is the end of the Forging period. After that point, the Rawbonds that remain will move into the Proving period, where you learn to work together as packs.”
The Rawbonds that remain . I can’t believe we’re facing death again so soon. And if I remember correctly, this is a chance for the packs to cull any members they think are too weak to survive.
This process is ridiculous.
“Hold on,” I say, unable to hold back my frustration. “I don’t understand the whole purging thing. Why kill each other? Why thin our own ranks when we need every warrior we can get to fight the Siphons?”
Egith just frowns at me in baffled disappointment.
I glance around at the others. Perielle smirks like I’ve just loudly announced that I’m the village idiot.
“Seriously, somebody explain it to me,” I say. “Why are we culling Bonded pairs when they’re already so rare? Why does the king require this? Why does everyone just accept it?”
The silence that follows is deafening. Beside me, Anassa bristles with silent scorn. Even Izabel winces in embarrassment when I look her way.
Egith’s voice rings out again, carrying the strain of barely controlled temper. “It has nothing to do with the king.”
I meet her frustrated gaze. “Alright, so why, then?”
“Direwolves are pack creatures,” she grates, “in case that was not abundantly clear to you. These Trials are created by and for them.”
Wait… what?
“You’re saying the direwolves created this training?” I demand. “They want us to cull each other?”
“Yes,” Egith growls. “In war, the weakest link endangers everyone. We can only succeed against our enemy if we work together. And if there are any direwolves or Bonded riders who might endanger the pack’s safety, it is in everyone’s best interest to cull them now—before we are at war and all our lives are at risk.”
My ears start to ring in the silence that follows.
Oh.
Oh… shit.
Realization dawns with cold, sinking dread.
Good job, Meryn. You just painted another fucking target on your back.
Through my tenuous bond with Anassa, I sense the wolf’s agreement with Egith’s words. And something else—a warning. Or perhaps a challenge.
If I fuck this up, she’ll be happy to cull me herself.
After class, I head straight for the terraces to find Anassa. She’s on the uppermost terrace again, and the mental wall between us is bigger and more impenetrable than ever. My frustration builds with each failed attempt to connect through our bond.
Why the fuck is she doing this? I thought we had an understanding.
This goddess-damned wolf is going to get me killed.
A twinge of shame follows me as I climb, however. I know I screwed up today by questioning the process. If I don’t get Anassa back on my side, the Purge Trial is going to be just like the Presentation—only it’ll end with me splattered all over the floor. For real this time.
Anassa could have told me that these Trials were designed by the direwolves, I think, temper rising with each step I climb. She could make this whole business so much easier if she fucking helped me out once in a while .
She’s the one who chose me, after all. So why do I often think she wants me to fail?
By the time I reach the upper terrace, I’m practically seething. Anassa lies at the back where the rock wall of the mountain shields her from the cold, whipping wind.
“What is your problem?” I demand, both aloud and through our bond. “How am I supposed to access your power if you keep shutting me out?”
Anassa doesn’t move, but I hear her voice in my head, rich and thunderous as before.
And thick with disdain.
“What right do you have to access my power?” she growls. “You place your own walls between us and then dare to demand that I lay myself bare to you?”
The accusation catches me off guard. What the hell is she talking about?
Then I remember—last night. Killian.
“You’re mad because I won’t let you observe intimate moments?” I say. “Seriously?”
At last, Anassa lifts her head, turning to pin me with furious yellow eyes. “You ignorant child. You still do not understand what this bond means, do you?”
“Fuck the bond!” I snarl. “I deserve to have a little privacy now and then—especially when all you want to do is judge me!”
Anassa’s mental voice grows icy and dangerous. “My ability to sense your emotions at all times, and for you to sense mine, is what keeps us both safe.”
“What exactly are you keeping me safe from, huh? You shut me out for weeks after you chose me,” I scoff. “My own pack members—my friends—would tear me apart if they sense their direwolves demand it. As far as I can tell, Killian is the only person in this whole fucking castle that I can trust not to kill me, including you.”
Anassa’s eyes narrow, her voice sharp with warning. “If I were trying to kill you, you’d already be dead.”
I turn away from her in boiling frustration, pacing along the edge of the terrace. Cold wind tosses my hair into my eyes, but I don’t care.
“Fine, you’re not trying to kill me. But you’re not exactly trying to keep me alive, either, are you?” I demand, turning back to her. “And now you’re shutting me out because I’m having sex without you peeping? Seriously? Is it because he’s not one of the Bonded? You don’t want me hooking up with him because it won’t help you find your mate?”
At once, my head is filled with booming, derisive laughter.
“Why the fuck is that funny?” I practically scream. “That’s why all the Rawbonds fuck each other’s brains out every night, isn’t it? So everyone can find their direwolves’ mates?”
Anassa’s rich voice is thick with condescension. “The constant coupling amongst the Rawbonds is little more than entertainment—for your benefit more than ours. We let you humans have your fun simply because it is the part of the training you most enjoy.”
“Right,” I grate. “I’m supposed to believe you don’t care about finding your mate?”
“Stupid girl,” the wolf growls with razor-sharp amusement. “Do you truly think I need your help to find my mate? I have known him for years.”
The words hit me like a sucker punch and send me reeling. I freeze, my shock reverberating along our bond. If Anassa knows who her mate is, that means…
“Who?” I hear myself rasp. “Who is it?”
It could be someone at the castle, or an older direwolf down at the front. It could be anyone , from any pack, one of the thousands of direwolves out there…
Her condescension hits me again, colored with Anassa’s amusement—and an unmistakable challenge.
“I will tell you who he is when you can prove to me that you are worthy of the knowledge .”
My head knocks back in affront. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Her cold stare and a wave of icy disdain are the only answers I get.
I stand there for a long moment, grappling with anger and a growing sense of inevitability. This is my life now , I remind myself. There’s no escape. I made peace with that already.
And there’s no use fighting with Anassa, as much as I hate to admit it.
“Well, worthy or not, you’re stuck with me,” I grumble. “And I’m stuck with you.”
“For now,” she drawls.
I sigh heavily. “Right. I get it. You could rip my throat out at any moment—if one of the others doesn’t do me in first. But you know damn well I won’t give up—not while there’s any chance of finding Saela. I will fight to the fucking death to save her, Anassa. I’ll jump through all the fucking hoops, alright? I don’t give a fuck about mates or anything else.”
Anassa is silent, apparently unmoved. But she’s listening. Assessing.
The last of the anger drains out of me, replaced by something like resignation. “I will try to let you sense my emotions when I’m with Killian, but I need some privacy and I also need you to be okay with that. Promise me we’ll be okay for the Purge Trial,” I say quietly. “Please.”
Another lengthy silence ensues. Anassa stares me down, her yellow gaze weighing me carefully.
Finally, in a tone of both warning and promise, her words echo in my mind. “We’ll be okay.”
That night, terror follows me into my dreams.
I’m in the castle, lost in its maze-like corridors. The shadows dance like living things and the walls change every time I look away.
I can hear my mother’s voice calling me. It echoes strangely, coming from every direction. There’s something wrong about it. A distortion that chills me to my bones.
“Meryn… Meryn! I’m here!”
It feels like I’m following her voice for hours, getting more and more lost. More and more afraid.
Until I find myself standing before a wide, familiar archway. Towering doors open into a massive arena, the web of gutters in the dirt floor flowing with blood.
My mother stands at the arena’s center, her back turned. She’s dressed in a crimson gown, her head adorned in a twisting crown slick with blood.
“Mom…” My voice comes out weak and childlike. But it reaches her.
She turns.
Icy terror surges in my veins.
Her eyes are black as pitch—no whites, no pupils. Just pure, demonic black.
I stumble back as she opens her mouth to speak.
No words come. Black blood pours from her lips and streams from her unseeing eyes.
An echoing, disembodied voice thunders through the arena, filling me with terror unlike any I’ve known before.
“Nocturn is calling. Are you listening?”
I jolt awake with those awful words still booming in my ears.
Fresh terror awaits. My vision is blurred, my senses spinning. Something presses my face so hard I can barely take in a breath. I taste blood and dirt and the acrid tang of my own fear.
I realize I’m lying on the ground, my face in the dirt. I lift my head, overwhelmed by the familiar scent of death.
The dark arena looms above me, the stands encased in shadow. Moonlight filters down from the glass ceilings in the dome. Just enough that I can see my hands on the ground as I lift myself onto my knees.
My fingers meet with gritty dirt and cold metal.
A drain, I realize, still dazed.
Slowly, my vision adjusts to the darkness. Moonlight plucks details from the shadows, tracing the web of gutters in the floor. Highlighting the angles where they meet. The metal grates set into those junctures make dark dimples in the earth.
With slow-darning horror, I realize I’m lying at the convergence of all those gutters. The place where the blood and gore are drained away after every battle.
The exact place my mother stood in my nightmare.