Chapter Thirteen
Calista
My mouth went dry.
No.
The floor seemed to drop half an inch beneath me. “Per the law, I am to choose a guard from my own Court—”
“You were bound to my Court upon the betrothal,” he hissed low under his breath. “In the absence of your father, as your betrothed, I have the right to choose who runs at your side.”
Moons curses. My blood ran cold. How had I not accounted for that?
“Why would you want to protect me after this?”
“You are still my intended and goddess-blessed.”
Of course, that was why I was so important. This mysterious, precious gift that Selraya bestowed upon me when I was chosen his bride.
“I will choose my most trusted guard to protect my most”—his smoldering silver gaze seared into me—"valuable possession. It is my right, as the hunt is yours.”
Possession. Gods, that rankled.
“But—”
“Calista, the law is the law.” The priestess shook her head beside me.
Returning his icy gaze to the gathered Alphas, the king continued, “I will name the Black Wolf to run at Calista Vale’s back. He keeps her breathing, strikes no challenger unless first blood is drawn or the law is broken, and will not leave her shadow until the fifth dawn.”
Oh, goddess, no. Even I’d heard tales of the legendary Black Wolf all the way in Hollowcrest. He was the king’s most brutal sworn weapon.
A murmur rolled down the aisle. A guard in dark, unmarked leathers moved from the ranks. He was taller than most, with an axe sheathed across his back, wearing a black mask that was more plain than the king’s. He didn’t bow. Instead, he crossed his right fist to his heart and simply held it there.
No. This was not the plan. It was supposed to be Jameson.
Savage slipped the chain over his neck, and a silver wolf head fell across his muscled chest. “By my seal, you will run at the Hollowcrest bride’s back.”
“As ordered, my king.”
Then Neris fixed the moon-sigil to the male’s shoulder. “Witnessed.”
Panic rushed through every inch of me, my heart staggering. Instead of my friend, I would now be under the watch of the male most loyal to the king, the exact power I was attempting to challenge.
Frost take me.
A hush dropped when Neris began again. “By Conclave writ and Selraya’s law, the Blood Hunt is thus:
“Twelve daughters must run, one from each Court, with the bride representing both Hollowcrest and Frostcrag among them. Five nights and five dawns will be counted. The contestants will leave the Razor Shoal at moonrise and must reach the Frostcrag Throne by the fifth dawn.
If any daughter other than the bride sets foot upon the throne first, she is crowned queen by right of the run. If the bride reaches it first, she wins the Queen’s Mandate of three Immutable Edicts and her choice rules. She may take the Alpha King…or refuse him.
Each Court will also name one hunter to run the paths alongside their daughters.
Hunters may pursue the goddess blessed bride prize or another daughter to elevate their own Court’s standing.
They may use force as required to take her—holds, binds, and throws.
Lawful capture is marked by a moonbraid to the wrist and the horn thrice blown, witnessed by the Alpha King’s guard.
The guard may keep the bride breathing, break unlawful holds, and render aid, but cannot strike a hunter or daughter unless first blood is drawn or the law broken. He may not carry the bride at any time.
There will be no mounts, no escorts, and no hidden ways.
Besides the initial supply, food and water may be taken only from the land.
Sanctuary holds at Selraya’s temple of the Lupherium for two hours and during that time there will be no binding and no pursuit.
Intervention by those not sworn to the rite voids their Court’s claim, the Alpha King included. He may not interfere in any manner.
The fifth dawn crowns the victor. Sel be witness. Raya be warning.”
The hall erupted, voices rose in chaos, and priestesses called for order once again.
I barely heard any of it. My gaze skimmed my new guard standing on the other side of the king, once, warily, then that dread curled low in my belly.
Because all I could see was the king beside him.
And now without Jameson and with his chosen guard at my side instead, the Hunt had become far more dangerous.
By the eighth bell, I’d been stripped of my bridal gown and crown, all the fineries replaced by a simple tunic, leathers and a fur cloak for warmth. My crescents were sheathed at my back and the familiar feel of the ring at my hip steadied me.
The high priestess escorted me through Frostcrag Fortresses’s north stairs which fed into a high courtyard shaped like a bowl of ice and banners.
Snow burned off the stone, catching the slivers of light piercing the clouds.
Lines of Wolvryn packed the terraces, bright-eyed and anxious, waiting for the ceremony and the spectacle in equal measure.
Like a fool, I searched the crowd for Suri, for a reassuring face. I found none. Gritting my teeth, I strengthened my resolve, hand brushing the iron ring at my hip.
I would return for my sister. I would win the crown for her, for Ma, and for all of Hollowcrest.
Neris led me to the dais beneath a bank of Frostcrag flags and the Savage King in his throne. Drums pounded out a slow heartbeat around us. It was as if the entire fortress held its breath.
A figure in matte-black armor stepped forward from the crowd.
His wolf-helm seemed crafted in shadow and his cloak was as dark as a starless hour.
The Black Wolf. The male, or more so the legend, was taller than most and silent as snow.
He wore no rank sigil, only the wolf’s head at his collarbone on the chain Savage had raised in the great hall.
Neris beckoned him up the steps. He came to my left and dipped his head, a fraction.
That monstrous axe was still slung across his back.
The scent that reached me was cedar and frostmint oil.
There was none of the pine-smoke steel of Savage.
I squeezed my eyes closed, shoving back the unexpected, foolish little rush of relief.
“My guard,” the Alpha King boomed from the other side of the dais. “He answers to Frostcrag law first, to me next, and to the bride’s breath above both.”
Blue eyes razed over me. “My lady.”
I lifted my chin. “If you’re supposed to keep me breathing, wolf, you can do it from a distance. You may be my guard by law, but that doesn’t mean you have my trust.”
His gaze never wavered. “Good. I’d question your judgment if you thought otherwise. Trust makes us careless, and I’d rather have your suspicion than your softness.”
I barely kept my jaw from falling. That hadn’t been the answer I’d expected.
With that, he turned his attention to the dais, to his king.
The courtyard began to empty in careful lines returning my attention to the present. Wolvryn daughters and hunters funneled toward a gated passage that opened into a stone staging yard. I followed the others with the Black Wolf at my side.
The air there felt tighter. Closer. Drums quieted to a throb you felt more than heard. Priestesses from each Court moved down the rows of daughters and hunters with chalk and cord, checking blades, weighing packs, and tying the moonbraids that would bind the Hunt.
The Ironcliff hunter approached us, daughter at his side. Hadria, I believed her name was. My new guard stood behind me as calm as cold water. “Heathcliff,” the Black Wolf said to the male.
The Ironcliff hunter took in the helm and the black cloak and huffed a quiet laugh. “Still peering at the world through that wolf mask, friend?”
“Still trying to shove the world into a straight line.”
The males did not touch each other, and they certainly did not smile, but something like recognition passed between them. “Hollowcrest.” Heathcliff tipped a chin at me. “Keep your feet where you can see them.” Then he slid his shield into place and turned away.
“Friend of yours?” I whispered to my guard.
“Hardly.”
Mistvale walked by next. Alma lifted two fingers in a small wave, eyes bright with a smudge of chalk on her cheek. Runes inked her flesh, a dark pewter running over her fingers. Her hunter bore the same marks with a face that slipped out of notice even when you stared at it. How useful.
“You look better with a sash than a shroud,” she whispered as the priestess tied her wrist-cord. “I like that for you.”
I blinked. “You don’t even know me.”
“Not yet.” Her mouth curved. “But I enjoy a girl who throws herself at a myth and expects to win.” She slipped something into my palm as the priestess passed.
A flat river stone scratched with a simple compass mark.
“If fog kisses the ground, keep the etched line toward your left hand. It will feel wrong. That’s why it works.
” She angled her head toward her hunter.
“Keir will pretend he didn’t see me give you that. ”
The Mistvale’s hunter’s gaze was somewhere over my shoulder, as if we were birds on a roof and not even worth noting.
I stood there silently for a long moment feeling the weight of the stone in my palm. Why would this female help me? I’d toss it the first chance I had. Still, politeness won out. “Thank you.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll use the debt when it counts.” With a wink, she drifted away, much like the mist itself.
Thornwild and Stormhallow came next. Their presence cut the air, all edges and threat.
“Mind these two Courts above all, my lady.” The Black Wolf’s whisper skimmed the shell of my ear.
“Don’t let their pretty daughters fool you, they’re as ruthless as they come.
And both Alphas, Trystan and Radick would be more than happy to see our king fall.
They’ve been anxious to steal his throne. ”
Good to know.
Rhosyn Briar’s red hair was braided tight to her scalp, eyes bright with hunger. At her shoulder stood the Thornwild hunter, lean and quiet, hands nicked by thorns that never quite healed.