Chapter Fifteen
Calista
The sea hissed over the Razor Shoal behind us, hungry to swallow it whole. My feet ached to put as much distance between us and the sliver of sand.
“Calista, if we’re going across the cliffs, we need a plan.
” The Black Wolf surged ahead of me, map in hand.
“Here’s the Shoal. Stormhallow Fields lie north and a little west. Since you insist on this route, there are two ways to get there fast. We can cut straight across the low coves and risk the tide, or angle inland for higher ground and lose time. ”
I tapped the sand where a black ribbon of water spilled toward the sea.
“The rivers will eventually lead us inland without us having to guess the direction. I say we follow the coast, then turn inland only when we must. We trail the first river mouth we find, then climb up for a better view. If we can see the next river from above, we’ll avoid wasting time and energy. ”
He nodded once. “Fine. Remember to keep the wind at your cheek. If it shifts to your back, you are walking into trouble.”
“I’m not afraid of trouble.”
His eyes glinted through the slits of his mask. “Clearly.”
“Only a few hours together and you think you know me already?” Irritation rankled through me. I hated that this male had been sent as my babysitter. As if Savage didn’t believe I was capable enough to win this on my own with a guard of my choosing.
“All I know, Calista, is that you selected a brutal Blood Hunt over the comfort of a life as the queen consort to arguably the most powerful male in all of Lunaris.”
“To save my family, my people.” I gritted my teeth. When he put it that way, I did sound a little foolish, but he could never understand. He was the king’s shadow, his most valuable weapon. “A prize bride and a consort is not a true queen, not enough to make a difference.”
The hard line of his jaw softened a touch.
“Besides, life at Frostcrag hardly seems like an easy existence,” I added.
“That’s a fair assessment, but I’m sure there are worst options.”
“Trust me, I know. Did you forget the Court from which I hail, Black Wolf?” Slamming my hands to my hips, I glared up at the towering male.
“You see, I’ve never been given many options.
None of us in Hollowcrest have. My entire life has been pre-ordained from the moment Selraya chose to withhold her blessings.
No Wolvryn. No future. I plan to change that. ”
He nodded, something like a huff of acceptance resonating beneath the mask.
“Now that we know each other a bit better, shall we go?” I signaled toward the frozen lands beyond the sandbank.
“After you…”
I tread lightly across the sinking gravel, the white capped waters looming ever closer.
I kept one eye on the females further down the coast and the other at the caves where the hunters presumably awaited to be released.
Some of the Wolvryn daughters had drifted into groups, perhaps acquaintances before this cursed rite, while others took off on their own.
Alma slipped close, quiet as a breath. The Black Wolf tensed beside me.
Her midnight hair was pulled back into tight braids, the moonlight glinting across her dark skin.
She stopped in front of me and dipped her head in mock curtsy.
“You read the water and the wind well, Hollow bride. If you don’t mind the company, I’ll run alongside you. ”
I eyed the female. I did mind. She looked strong and capable, and seemed somewhat tolerable after our brief encounter, but I could never trust her.
I knew little of the Mistvale Court, other than their nickname, the knife in the fog.
Not ominous at all… They were trackers and spies who vanished into the mists.
“Don’t look for friends among the other daughters of Court.” The Black Wolf’s voice skidded across my ear. He stood so close the heat of him warmed my back. “You cannot trust any of them.”
I decided against stating the obvious. How could I trust him? He belonged to the king, the very male who had forced me into this situation. “It’s a good thing I’m not looking for friends,” I hissed over my shoulder, then to Alma, “Or travel companions.”
A smirk tugged at her lips. “As you fancy.” And then she fell back, disappearing like mist itself.
“Let’s keep moving.” My guard angled us north, and for a while neither of us spoke. The time dragged on until we finally reached a jagged break in the cliffs where the surf funneled hard through a line of half-drowned pilings.
I stopped at the edge and counted.
One wave crashed. Then another, larger. Then the sea pulled back, hissing over black stone.
I counted again, watching the rhythm beneath the chaos. The biggest waves came in threes. The lull after them was short. Too short for a clumsy crossing, but long enough, maybe, for a careful one.
“That’s Tideknife Crossing.” The Black Wolf eyed the waves. “It’s the fastest way through.”
“Fastest way to die.” Peering across the expanse, I measured the distance to the nearest piling. “How strong a swimmer are you?”
A chuckle. Then his eyes narrowed behind the mask. “Strong enough. We should take the direct path north.”
“Still trying to kill me off I see.” I cast him a sharp look.
His voice went flat. “My duty is to keep you breathing.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You’re the one who chose this path.” He threw his hands up in frustration.
Point made.
Reaching for the rope at my hip, the one I’d trained with every day for years, I allowed its familiar weight to steady me. Watching the steady surge and retreat of the waves, I threw the ring. It caught the piling with a sharp clang. I gave the rope two hard tugs, and it held.
The Black Wolf watched me as I tied it off at my waist. “We cross on the lull. If you mean what you say, then keep up.”
“I do, and I will.” He took a step forward, but a shout echoed behind us.
I looked back. Alma was coming hard down the trail, too fast, too desperate, as if something were chasing her.
Moon curse it. Should I alert her of the crossing?
I nearly opened my mouth in warning when the sea rose again. One wave. Two. Three.
If we didn’t move now, we’d miss our chance, not to mention risk her getting ahead of us. “Now,” I snapped at the Black Wolf.
I ran.
My guard hit the crossing beside me, boots finding slick stone as the tide sucked back around our calves. The rope strained between us. Water surged to my thighs, my hips, then dropped again as we pushed forward, hand over hand, breath by breath.
We were halfway across when I felt the line jerk.
I looked back. Alma had found my rope.
“Keep going!” he shouted, following my panicked gaze.
I counted without meaning to. Distance. Wave height. Time. Alma was never going to make it across.
“Hurry!” I shouted, hauling myself faster as the first wave crashed in. “Move!”
The Black Wolf surged beside me, both of us dragging for the far sandbar as the sea began to rise again.
“Forget about her!” He shouted as if he’d already read my mind.
I pulled myself forward, boots squelching in the knee-high water. Just a few more yards. My breaths were ragged, lungs squeezing.
One more pull and we hit the opposite sand hard, stumbling into the shallows. I sucked in a breath, relief washing over me. We made it.
Then I turned and Alma’s eyes found mine. Terror filled them.
The second wave swelled, white capped and churning.
Oh, goddess she would be swallowed up by the tide and dragged out to sea.
“Wrap the rope around your waist!” I screamed.
She didn’t have time. The wave hit. It slammed into her full force, tore her hands loose, and yanked her under.
For one awful second, she vanished.
The Black Wolf caught my arm before I could move. “Leave her.”
I whirled on him. “She’ll drown.”
“She would have put a knife in your back the first chance she got.”
Before I could answer, Alma surfaced farther out, gasping once before the riptide dragged her sideways. Her hands clawed at the water. At nothing.
I should leave her. I could convince myself she was the competition, that the Hunt had started, and that saving her was foolish. And most of all, that queens did not survive by kindness.
Then she went under again and something inside me snapped. Hollowcrest vessels gone missing, fishermen lost at sea, my father one of them. Too many lives taken. “I can’t let her die like this.”
I ripped free of my guard’s hold, threw my rope toward the churning water, and screamed her name. “Alma, grab it!”
The cord slapped against the churning water and vanished.
For one awful heartbeat, Alma missed it.
Then the next wave rolled her sideways, and her hand flailed, striking the line by sheer luck. She caught it, fingers locking so hard her knuckles flashed white even through the spray.
“Hold it!” I screamed.
A wall of gray-green water rose between us, swallowing her whole once again.
“No!” I lunged for the edge of the bar, but the Black Wolf caught my arm.
“It’s too late...”
My heart plummeted along with her.
Then Alma surfaced again, farther out this time, coughing. Somehow, one hand still clawed at the rope as the riptide tore her sideways. Her mouth opened, but whatever she tried to say was swallowed by the surf.
Moon take me.
I hesitated for only an instant.
“Calista, no!” The Black Wolf’s warning blurred in the background.
Tossing my cloak on the sand, I dove back into the icy waves.