Chapter Thirty-Two
Calista
Everest’s gaze tracked the snow, the moon creeping ever higher in the sky, then the darkening edge of the world. “Stormhallow’s hunter is too close. We must keep moving.”
I nodded.
He caught my hand and led me through the trees, choosing a line that curved further inland away from Rhosyn and Myra’s track and toward thicker cover.
“We need shelter before the storm clouds overtake the moon.” He cocked his head in my direction. “And before the pull gets worse.”
“The pull,” I echoed, my voice thin. The approaching full moon.
Again, that hint of silver flashed, buried deep, like a beast pacing behind his eyes. “Selraya’s power is drawing closer,” he said quietly. “She wakes what is sleeping. And with the full moon nearly upon us…”
A shiver slid down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. “But you’re not an Alpha…”
His mouth tightened.
“And yet you feel it already.”
“Yes.”
The admission tasted like a truth ripped free.
We moved faster, and my aching feet screamed for every step. After a few minutes, Everest stopped behind a boulder and listened. His head angled slightly, hearing what I could not.
Then he finally exhaled. “We lost them.”
I sagged against the rock, breath sawing, and worn muscles throbbing like a second heartbeat.
Everest’s hand found my elbow, steadying me.
“We can’t afford to dawdle anymore. There will be more hunters coming after Rhosyn and Myra, and before long they’ll be near us.
Trystan must be healed by now, and I’d prefer to avoid another confrontation.
The closer we get to the full moon, the more dangerous the Hunt becomes, especially with any Alphas in play. ”
“Agreed. We must move quicker and put more distance between us and them before we find shelter for the night.” My gaze snagged on his cloak, on the wolf helm, on the way he held himself like control was something he had to grip with both hands.
For some reason, my hand slipped into my pocket and brushed the Frostcrag sigil Savage had gifted me. Almost there.
And because my mind was desperate for anything else to hold onto, I latched onto the first thread of distraction. “Did you know the former Alpha King?”
Everest blinked once. “Not well… Why?”
“I heard tales that Savage skinned him and wears his hide. Is that true?”
“I suppose it must be if that’s what the bards sing.” He attempted lightness, but it still came out wrong.
“How did Savage kill him then?”
Everest went very still. For a heartbeat, I thought he would refuse to answer. Then, slowly, as if deciding what truth I could handle, he slowed his pace to match mine.
“Erik of Stormhallow challenged Savage in the Frostcrag basin.” His voice was low, almost reverent with the brutality of it.
“Savage was Alpha of Frostcrag at the time and refused to bend the knee. Erik was decent as a ruler, but he was too consumed by the power and the politics. He didn’t understand the bigger picture, what was really at stake if Lunaris wasn’t unified.
One night under Selraya’s full face, the beasts took form and there was no stopping destiny. ”
My stomach tightened. I could picture it too easily.
“Erik was bigger,” Everest continued. “He had the Stormhallow blood in him, the kind that makes a male reckless with strength. He thought size would win, he thought rage would win.”
“And Savage?”
Everest’s eyes sharpened. “He let Erik believe he was winning.”
Savage’s cunning gaze forced its way to the forefront of my mind, those icy silver eyes through iron slits.
“He took the first strike to the shoulder and didn’t flinch,” Everest continued. “He let Erik drive him back. Let him think Frostcrag would watch their Alpha bleed and break.”
My guard’s hand flexed at his side like remembering it made his bones ache. “Then the king did what he always does. He waited until Erik overcommitted.”
My mouth went dry. “And then?”
“And then he used the basin against him. He turned when Erik lunged and led him onto thin ice. The former king’s weight cracked it. His back leg sank. Just enough. One heartbeat of imbalance was all it took.”
Everest’s gaze flicked to the snow, to my boots, to the land. “Savage tried to walk away. He had no desire for that throne, but a challenge was a challenge and when Erik refused to allow Frostcrag its independence, he had no other choice.”
It always came down to choice, didn’t it?
“The king hit him in that heartbeat,” he went on. “Not with teeth but with intelligence. He took his throat from the side, severed what mattered, and held on until the struggle stopped. Savage didn’t celebrate his victory. He just watched Stormhallow’s king go still.”
The image made my stomach twist.
“And then,” Everest added, voice gone colder now, “he carried his hide out of the frozen lake himself. Alone. Later, once the pelt had been cleaned, he wore it into the hall so no one could pretend the throne wasn’t rightly his.”
I swallowed hard. “So it was a message.”
“It was a warning wrapped in tradition,” Everest corrected. “To every Court.”
A grim silence stretched between us.
Then Everest’s voice shifted, almost reluctantly. “The current Alpha of Stormhallow, Radick, is Erik’s brother.”
I blinked. “No wonder you said to watch out for Myra and her hunter.”
He nodded. “Radick has been thirsty for revenge since the day Erik’s hide draped Frostcrag’s shoulders.”
“Radick is an Alpha,” I whispered, remembering what Everest had told me about hunters taking a fallen one’s place. “He could have taken Kade’s spot.”
“He could have… I’m honestly surprised he didn’t come for you himself.”
My pulse kicked again. “Maybe he’s afraid of Savage.”
Everest gave a low, humorless sound. “Radick’s not afraid. He’s patient.”
“And if he’s patient,” I murmured, “he’s waiting for the right moment to exact his revenge.”
His gaze went distant, as if he could see beyond the trees, beyond the Hunt, beyond the Conclave itself. “Exactly.”
I forced a breath. “Savage certainly has a lot of enemies.” Tarrik, Trystan, Radick… the list seemed to grow longer the more I learned about the Wolvryn king.
The Black Wolf’s attention snapped back to me, and again there was a faint silver flicker deep in his eyes, the beast stirring at the mention of his king. “He has enemies because he made this realm breathe. And there are always males who hate the one who stops them from taking what they want.”
I couldn’t tell if he was talking about raiders, rival courts, or the crown itself.
Taking another step, my ankle rolled from sheer exhaustion, and I squealed. Pain flared so bright my vision went white at the edges, and my leg buckled. I barely caught myself on a tree, fingers biting the bark.
Everest was there, hand at my waist, steadying me as if I weighed nothing. “Enough,” he rasped.
“I can keep going,” I lied through clenched teeth.
His eyes flashed silver again, sharp and sudden. For a heartbeat, it wasn’t Everest looking at me, it was something hungry, protective and furious at my weakness. Then he blinked, and the silver was gone.
It must have been his Wolvryn yanked forth by the approaching full moon.
“No, you can’t keep going,” he growled, and this time it wasn’t an argument.
I swallowed, shame and anger at my own damned weakness tangling in my throat. “If we stop, my family and all of Hollowcrest dies.”
“If we don’t stop, you break,” he countered. “And then you’ll all die anyway.”
I hated how right he was.
“We need somewhere to sleep for a few hours then we continue on.”
Unease settled deep in my chest. We only had two more nights to reach Frostcrag and tomorrow was the full moon. Every single hunter and competitor would be in Wolvryn form except for me. I cursed myself for not moving faster, for not reaching that throne before Selraya’s full face changed the game.
“Don’t look so glum, little wolf. Luckily, I know of just the place.” Everest scanned the land, the sky, and the snow for an endless minute. We were farther inland now. There were no sea caves and no cliff hollows. Just never-ending rolling white, pines, and wind.
“It’s only a little further.” He glanced at my ankle, which I held just an inch off the ground. “Can you make it?”
I put my weight on it, and miraculously, it held. “Yes.”
“Then we keep moving north.”
And so we did.
What felt like a lifetime later, the tense set of his jaw slackened and something like relief flashed. “There.” He pointed toward a low shape half buried in snow, barely visible between two drifts.
At first, I thought it was a boulder. Then I caught the straight edge of a roof and a door frame. A small window clouded with frost. A hut. It looked old. Forgotten. The kind of place that might have been used before storms and raids turned the coast into a graveyard.
Everest guided me toward it, one careful step at a time. My ankle protested at the movement, but the sight of shelter made my lungs loosen slightly. By the time we reached the hut, the moon was nearly at its peak. The wind had risen again, carrying needles of snow that stung my cheeks.
Everest tested the door. It stuck, swollen with ice. He leaned his shoulder into it once. Twice. On the third hit, the latch gave with a crack, and the door swung inward on a groan that made my skin prickle.
He went in first, blade out, scanning the corners, the shadows, and the low rafters. The hut was small. Smaller than the lighthouse had been and much smaller than any decent shelter should be with a storm and vicious hunters closing in.
A table, half collapsed stood beside a rusted stove along the wall. A pile of old nets in the corner smelled like fish and mildew. And one narrow bed was built into the wall, tucked beneath a shelf of hooks.
Only one. Again.
Everest’s gaze flicked to it, then to me, and something unreadable moved behind his eyes. “We’ll make it work,” he said simply, as if my thoughts weren’t written all over my face.
It was normal to share a bed for warmth. Suri and I slept together every night for our whole lives, in a pallet not any larger than that one. Though Everest was much larger than Suri. And far more male.
I tried to make a joke but couldn’t. “Selraya certainly has a cruel sense of humor.” It was the best I had at the moment.
Ignoring my comment, or perhaps he hadn’t heard it over the rush of wind, Everest shut the door behind us and slid the bolt into place. “No one will find us easily in all this snow.”
My muscles throbbed, and my ribs felt tight. Gods, I hated how weak I’d become in a matter of days. Aunt Mara would’ve been disappointed in me.
Outside, the wind howled like an animal denied entry. Inside, the hut held only cold, close air and the steady presence of the male beside me.
Everest crouched, pulling kindling from his pack.
Then he struck steel, coaxing a flame in the stove, small at first, then stronger.
Light spilled across the hut, turning his features harsh and beautiful in the same breath.
When he finally looked at me, his eyes were a deep blue again.
But beneath the dark, I could swear I saw his Wolvryn waiting.
“Sit,” Everest said softly.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, the mattress thin and the frame creaking under my weight. Pain shot through my entire body, and a sound escaped me before I could swallow it down. He was at my feet in an instant, hands already reaching for a wrap from his satchel.
“Everest…” I breathed.
He paused, just for a heartbeat. His gaze lifted to mine, steady and intent.
“I won’t let the Hunt break you.” His lips thinned. “Not when you’re so close.” There was something in his voice that sounded like a promise and a threat all tangled together.
Through the window, the storm pressed closer. And between our breaths, the air warmed by degrees. The space shrank until it felt like there was nowhere left to hide.