Chapter 28 #2
But she wanted to hide—hide under the covers and cry, just like she did every time her parents finally released her from the crate.
They tried to embrace her. Apologize. Shower her with kisses and candies and toys.
But she didn’t want any of it. She wanted to mourn the slivers of herself that fell away with each missed moon and caged cry.
As soon as she grew old enough to bite back, her ability to control her shifts evolved.
At first, she tried to resist the urge to shift, to please her parents.
But it never lasted. Being in her ancestral form under the full moon was everything.
It was healing. It was breathing. But the moment she spotted an iron muzzle sitting on top of that stars-forsaken crate, fear quickly took over and forced her back.
She swore to never shift again. And she didn’t.
Not in front of them, at least.
Oh, how pleased they were.
The Princess is back, her mother would say. Our little girl is back.
I am so sorry, love, father had said through choked-up breaths. There was no other way.
Isn’t this better, Anya?
You understand now, don’t you, Anya?
This is for your kingdom, Anya.
This is for the good of your people, Anya.
She growled in protest. No. No. No. She didn’t understand.
There were other options, but her parents made that choice—just like how they had claimed to rule with love and equity, yet they signed the Gathering order and the testing order.
Even if some folk lauded them as pillars of progress, they were the King and Queen of hypocrisy behind closed doors.
Every shake of her head brought a metal bar down in front of her.
They were still there. Her cage had only grown.
“No. No, no, no, no, no!”
“Anya?”
Anya whirled her head to the voice, finding Roderick standing ten feet away with an armload of firewood. The moment their eyes locked, he dropped the firewood and ran to her.
“What happened? Why are you crying?” He fell to his knees and cupped her cheek, stroking a thumb just below her lashes.
“I see the bars, the bars, they’re still there…” Anya shivered and squeezed her eyes shut, but the bars remained.
“It’s all right. I’m here. There’s no bars. Just you. Just me.”
“It’s there—the cage, it’s still there—” A shudder rolled down her spine.
“There’s no cage. If there was, could I do this?” Roderick’s hands found hers, twining their fingers together so tightly her claws dug into his skin, but he didn’t flinch.
His touch reached through the bars surrounding her heart, muscling them away until only the wash of waves and breath remained. When she finally opened her eyes, his followed. Their foreheads were pressed together, hands held tight between them as they breathed each other in.
“I won’t let anyone cage you. Ever,” he whispered. “You are wild and strong and glow like the moon when you speak of the stars. Those kinds of things can’t be restrained, nor should they.”
In that moment, Anya swore the moon finally did more than stare—it smiled.
So she did too.
“Thank you,” she whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.
Roderick stammered wordlessly, eyes wide. Anya laughed and pulled him to his feet. He was, in many ways, a storybook knight—struck into silence by a kiss from his princess. But he’d done so much more than win a duel for her favor.
Anya stumbled back a step as she stood, then looked down to regain her footing.
Their bare feet pressed into the sandy shore.
The environment was far from the glamour of Melusine Manor—but her heart pounded all the same.
She wiggled her toes, relishing the tickle of sand between each one until they were nearly buried.
Roderick did the same, but each roll of his toes brought them closer and closer to hers.
A laugh rocked her chest as he poked her foot with his big toe.
Roderick chuckled, pulling her by the waist until she was flush against him.
The wolf in her chest started to whisper. Him. It’s him. Your ma—
The distinct, trembling call of a loon caught in her ears.
Trem-o-lo~
Anya whirled her head toward the glacial wall, pupils blown wide.
Trem-o-lo~
The warning tremolos became faster and faster—like birds being hunted. Be it man or beast, this was the first solid proof of life beyond the towering ice. Her fingers tingled with excitement.
“Do you hear that?” She shook Roderick by the shoulders.
“No, what?” He chuckled nervously.
Trem-o-lo~coo-hoo!
“That! That!” Anya grasped his hand and pulled him as she rushed down the moonlit beach at full bore.
There were loons! Birds! Birds meant trees, trees meant nests, nests meant babies, and that was proof of a thriving spring ecosystem.
Her senses peaked. She could see the smallest trails where animals had clearly trodden to get to the sea.
“Goodness—Anya, slow down,” Roderick panted. Anya skidded to a stop and stared at the tracks. No. Not just tracks—paws! Paws! Paws! They were paws!
She yanked Roderick along the line of tracks toward the glacial wall, ignoring his pleas for her to slow down. She couldn’t. How could she? Her instincts were right! Finally, finally right!
The adrenaline rush diffused into a steady hum in her veins as she slowed to a stop before the yawning maw of a cave.
Roderick cupped his hands over his mouth and whistled, then listened for a beat. Five seconds passed before the echo of the tune came back.
“This has to be nearly a quarter mile deep,” he commented.
She had to admit, that was impressive. Anya’s brows shot up. “Did you just multiply the speed of light and time and divide to calculate the distance in your head?”
Roderick scrubbed the back of his neck. “No, it just sounds like it. But I suppose it’s second nature from my campaign days.”
“Either way, color me impressed.”
“Well, your cheeks are a little flush,” Roderick teased. “So, Princess, why did you drag me over here? Are you displeased with your accommodations?”
“No,” Anya huffed with a smile. “Come on!” She went to tug his hand again, but he stayed anchored to the spot.
“Woah there. Explain. Words, Anya. I need words.”
Words were in short supply compared to the excitement coursing through her, but she tried. “Aquillas. I know there’s life! Until now, I was at the mercy of words. But I heard a loon!”
“I think I see a loon.”
Anya shoved him playfully. “It’s a kind of waterbird, you dunce. They migrate to the north shore of Eteross every winter.”
“I know. I couldn’t resist.”
Trem-o-lo~
Hoo! Hoo!
Trem-o—
The call abruptly died on the heels of a howl that sent a shiver down her spine.
Awooooooooooo!
There was a layer of speech beneath the deep howl, but she couldn’t understand it. Wolves? Weres? She had to know more. She took two steps forward before Roderick darted in front of her, blocking her path.
“I cannot believe I am the one saying this to you, but we have to make a plan. We can’t go charging headfirst into the second dark cave we see.”
Nope. She wasn’t waiting another moment.
She waited weeks on that ship for confirmation that everything Marg said was true.
She zipped past Roderick and into the cave.
The mouth of the cave became just a pinprick as the space became darker and inkier, until she was swallowed into true darkness.
Roderick’s barefoot run echoed behind her.
The space was so dark, devoid of every sight and sound—until she turned the corner.
Damp plant matter squished and glowed beneath her feet. Her skin crawled at the unexpected sensation. She jumped back to the cold stone, then pressed a pensive toe to the moss again. It glowed a faint blue, then dissipated slowly.
Roderick’s footsteps slowed as he turned the corner. “What in the Divine’s name is that?”
Anya took a hesitant step, then another. The moss lit up around her feet, fading and intensifying as she shifted her weight from foot to foot.
Roderick came up beside her, brushing a hand on the cave wall. A thin line of sapphire luminescence trailed after his fingers.
“This is incredible,” Anya breathed. She’d never seen anything like this before.
Once in a blue moon, auroras would dance across the sky over Eteross.
They were hardly noticeable to the naked eye most times, but if the auroras aligned perfectly with the new moon, she could catch a glimpse of the striated ribbons.
Now, she could practically hold them in her hand.
She pressed her palm into the wall, letting the aqua light seep between her fingers.
Roderick rested his scarred hand next to hers and rolled his fingers. How could hands that had seen so much battle and pain have been the same ones that softly swept away her tears, and now indulged in a moment of childlike wonder?