Chapter Forty-Five
Calista
The Lupherium, or maybe it was Selraya herself, didn’t let me stay a minute longer than allowed per law.
The hush that had cradled me shifted into pressure, subtle at first, then undeniable like a tide rising behind my ribs. It was as if the temple itself, the old elra in its moonbeam walls turned suddenly firm and unyielding.
Leave.
My boots slid across the pale stone as if the floor had decided it no longer would bear my weight. A cold gust curled through the corridor, not wind from outside but something that smelled of moonlight. The arches seemed to brighten, the silver-blue glow intensifying until my eyes watered.
I stumbled, catching myself on a curved column that pulsed beneath my palm.
The sanctuary was closing.
My throat tightened. “Please, I need more time.”
The two hours had passed in a heartbeat. I’d barely slept. And it certainly wasn’t restful, not after everything I’d seen.
The pressure increased anyway, ignoring my pleas, just like the goddess always had. It shoved at my shoulders, at my spine, guiding me toward the entrance with a calm violence I couldn’t fight.
I waited for my ankle to protest, but somehow it held with every forced step. My thoughts whirled to the dream, to Selraya’s touch and the warmth that followed.
I took another step, and there was nothing. No pain.
Moons… the goddess had healed me?
Before I could enjoy the blessed miracle, the temple pushed me through the last arch and out into the night. The instant my boots hit the snow, the pressure vanished.
The Lupherium stood behind me, pristine and luminous, pale towers spiraling up like frozen moonbeams. It looked as untouched as ever, as if it had not just expelled me like a splinter.
Brilliant moonlight slid across my shoulders, and the sudden bolt of fear that shot through me made my breath turn to ice.
Frost curse it, it was still the middle of the night.
Selraya’s full face hung overhead, bright enough to turn the snowfields into silver glass.
The air was so cold it felt brittle like it might snap if I breathed too hard.
In the distance, Wolvryn howls rolled over the cliffs.
They were lower now, not frantic the way they’d been earlier but still present. Still hunting. Still hungry.
At least no beasts prowled near the temple. That I could see anyway. Another miracle.
According to my calculations, I had roughly four hours until dawn. Four hours until the Hunt ended and whoever remained would reach Frostcrag or die trying.
I glanced north and forced my weary body onward.
The land rose into jagged ridges and deeper drifts, the wind carving pathways between pines that looked like black spears against the moon.
Somewhere beyond that, Frostcrag waited.
Savage waited. My hand absentmindedly sank into the pocket of my cloak, closing around the sigil clasp. Salvation or a cage? Maybe both.
My mind raced, trying to determine what my body could or couldn’t do anymore. At least I could walk without limping. My muscles burned and exhaustion ripped through me, but I could endure because I had to.
What if someone had already reached Frostcrag? The thought hit fast and sharp enough to make me sway.
Rhosyn. Myra. Alma. Halla. Any of them could be ahead. Any of them could be at the gates right now, breathless, victorious, claiming what I had invoked. Claiming the crown, claiming my edicts…
No.
If someone had won, there would have been an announcement. A horn. A flare. Something. The Conclave didn’t do quiet outcomes, especially not with the entire kingdom on the line. Not with twelve Courts watching.
My reasoning was as thin as ice. Still, I clung onto it with everything I had as I trudged on. Because the dream wouldn’t stop echoing in my bones.
And the mirror… the mirror that had shown me Pa’s hand covering a mark at the back of Ma’s neck like it was a shameful secret. But why?
I never should’ve taken you south.
The Conclave will find out.
My mind kept trying to line up the pieces into something that made sense, but every time it got close, the picture slipped away again.
Ma wasn’t just sick, and Pa hadn’t just been overprotective.
There was a reason Hollowcrest had always been treated like we didn’t fully belong, like we were something inconvenient that the other Courts tolerated only when it served them.
Outcasts. Wolfless. Useful only as long as we stayed quiet and small.
My stomach twisted. That was why I was here. Not for a gilded crown or for pride. Not even for my own freedom.
I was here for them. For Ma. For Suri. For the Hollows who waited behind salt-stained doors and burned nets and empty larders, hoping Frostcrag’s protection would hold for one more season.
The pull I felt for Everest, the warmth of his arms, the way my body had responded to him in that hut, it didn’t matter.
It couldn’t. Despite how real it was.
There was so much more at stake.
The truth hit like a blade to the ribs. And gods, it hurt. I had known it all along, but I’d buried it beneath want and hope and sheer stubbornness. There could be no crown and Everest.
No matter how badly I wished it otherwise.
I could barely breathe through the ache in my chest. For Everest. For what we could have had.
I forced my body forward, even as something inside me bled with every step.
I told myself I couldn’t mourn a male who was never mine in the first place.
But the thought of never feeling Everest’s lips on mine again hit like a knife driven in and twisted.
Snow grabbed at my boots, trying to swallow me whole. Wind shoved at my shoulders, attempting to turn me back toward sanctuary, but that sanctuary had already refused me.
So I limped north under Selraya’s full light, crescent in my hand and my thoughts sharpening into a single, brutal objective.
Reach Frostcrag. Survive long enough to choose my edicts. Change our fate.
The closer I got, the more Savage’s face invaded my mind. Not the legend. Not the rumors of the beast. The male I’d seen in quieter moments, the one Everest told tales of. The one who’d sent his best guard to protect me, and carried brutality like a tool, not a pleasure.
What would he be like as a husband?
Winning the Hunt meant I could use the crown to finally carve Hollowcrest a place that couldn’t be taken away with a vote and a sneer.
Glancing ahead, I strengthened my resolve. The land dipped into a shallow ravine where the pines clustered thick and the snow lay undisturbed, a smooth sheet of silver under moonlight.
Movement caught my eye. Two shapes darting through the trees. Not the familiar Fae silhouettes of the daughters of Court.
Wolvryn.
Frosted hells.
They moved low and fast, bodies sleek and tense beneath their fur, moonlight catching the sharp line of shoulders and the whip of tails. I squinted through the darkness until Selraya’s light hit their foreheads, and the runes flared.
One set burned a deep thorn-green, inked in a jagged pattern I’d noticed on Rhosyn’s skin the day we left Frostcrag. The other glowed storm-silver, streaked like lightning over brow and snout. That must have been the mark of Stormhallow.
My stomach dropped. Rhosyn and Myra.
Somehow, I knew it was them, even with muzzles and fur and too-long teeth. The Courts branded their beasts the same way they branded their daughters, and under the full moon those runes sang like names.
I wasn’t certain what was worse, encountering them like this or in Fae form where blades could whisper a quiet death. At least in Wolvryn form, their intentions couldn’t hide behind pretty smiles.
Even from a distance, I could feel the tension between them, the uneasy alliance that didn’t make sense except that fear had a way of forcing temporary partnerships.
Moon’s curses, they were ahead of me. But at least not by much.
A spike of urgency hit. If I could catch up, if I could pass them…
I dug deep and pushed, teeth clenched and breath ragged. I used the slope to my advantage and half slid down a drift. My backside ached over the rocky terrain, but it was better than my sore, blistered feet bearing the full weight. Then I scrambled up the next rise, closing the distance between us.
The Wolvryn’s low, guttural sounds echoed through the air. A rumbling growl. A sharp bark of warning. The rhythm of it was clipped and harsh like arguing translated into teeth.
They stopped in a small clearing where the moonlight fell clean and pale, turning the snow to silver. I slowed, ducking behind a thick pine trunk downwind. With my chest heaving, I tried to steady my breath.
The stormy silver Wolvryn paced a tight circle, head low, shoulders rolling with agitation. The dark green female stood still, unnervingly calm, as if the moon had given her patience instead of frenzy.
Myra’s runes flashed brighter as she lifted her head and snapped her jaws, a sound that could have been a threat or a plea.
Rhosyn’s head tilted, and the motion was almost languid. Then she lunged so fast I barely registered it. A blur of crimson and dark fur, and her jaws clamped for Myra’s throat.
Stormhallow’s daughter made a sound that sounded like surprise and tried to become a howl, but it strangled into a wet, choking snarl. Blood sprayed dark across the snow. My entire body went rigid. By the gods. I clapped a hand over my mouth to smother the gasp.
Myra staggered back, paws scrabbling on ice, her silver runes strobing wildly as she tried to keep her feet.
She snapped blindly, teeth clacking, eyes wide and disbelieving.
Rhosyn didn’t hesitate. She drove in again with ruthless precision.
Her full weight hit Myra’s chest, then her jaws found the soft place beneath the jawline and tore.
Stormhallow’s daughter collapsed, the sound of her body hitting the snow terribly soft.
A cowardly part of me wanted to stay hidden, to wait until she moved on so I could slip away. But then the image of Ma flashed in my mind, hands shaking and eyes lost. The mirror’s mark. Pa’s terror. And Selraya’s warning.
I didn’t have the luxury of caution. Time was running out.
My body made the choice before my mind finished arguing. I pushed off the tree and ran, boots silent in the snow. I sprinted past the clearing’s edge, keeping low, using the trees as cover and forcing speed from my failing body.
Behind me, Rhosyn’s beast sucked in a sharp breath. Move, move, Cali. I didn’t look back, I only ran harder.
Because I was not dying in the snow today. Not when all of Hollowcrest was counting on me to bring back a crown.