Chapter 38 #2
Anya shifted in a flash, then trotted to the north. She bobbed and weaved under half-fallen trees and around pricker bushes with alert precision. A dozen yards in, she shifted back to two legs and looked around.
“I think they’re close,” she said, squinting into the darkness.
Indeed we are, a husky voice said, flanked by excited yips and barking laughs.
A hulking onyx wolf emerged from the thicket, his broad haunches undulating up and down with each step. He somehow blended into the night and reflected the stars all at the same time.
You are new to the Traansa trees, the Were observed. Welcome, brother. Sister. He tipped his head to each of them in turn. We welcome weary travelers into our woods. You may dance, sing, and run with us until your paws move you along your journey.
The Were shifted from wolf to man, clad in a silver shirt, black trousers, and a moonlit cloak. He took Anya’s hand and kissed it.
“Especially you,” he said, his voice as deep and resonant as a cello. A black curl fell onto his forehead as he straightened. “I am Adam Eran, alpha of the Traansa pack. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss,” he hung on the last word to request her name.
“Anya,” she finished, voice impossibly light. Her cheeks flushed, and her hand lingered a bit too long.
The wolves hidden among the trees started their cheerful song again.
Sister, brother, run with us.
“The pack calls, Anya,” Adam said with an impossibly toothy grin. He took a step back and shifted.
Are you coming? Adam tilted his head, ears tall and alert. His tail whipped back and forth a few times.
Anya looked to Roderick, her eyes aglow with wonder. Longing. Like Adam had just offered to heal every crack the pressures of her royal duties and strangled Lycanian life back on Eteross had caused.
The jealous monster in him wanted to tell her to come back to camp.
Make up some dumb excuse. He couldn’t see well, he needed help with a few more bruises, she needed a good night’s sleep before they set off in the morning.
These Weres could be dangerous; how is this different from sending his Princess off into a crowd of reveling, drunken folk?
And with the mating buzz of spring running through their veins, no less?
In the moon-drenched forest, among the floral air, surrounded by her kind and unabashedly accepted, she could be in love and lost to him before the sun came up.
But that didn’t matter, did it? He refused to be another cage to her. There was no other choice. That was how much he loved her.
“Go,” he said, forcing a smile. “I’ll wait up.”
Anya’s eyes went wide. A beaming smile reached the heights of her cheekbones. He knew how it felt—the gentle lift in her cheeks against his skin when she grinned just like that. Would he ever feel it again?
With a shimmer of light, she was back to being a wolf, bearing a single band around her front foreleg.
Adam jumped and howled, Come! The stars await!
Anya bounded a few yards, then cast a look back at Roderick, ears pinned back. The rest of the wolves laughed and yipped around them.
Sister! Sister! Come see the stars!
“Go!” Roderick shouted.
Then she turned and followed Adam into the woods.
Roderick’s smile fell away—and with his heart as battered as the rest of his body, he started back to camp.
This is for the best. This is for the best, he told himself.
His hands trembled even as he clenched them as tight as he could stand, busting the shallow scabs on his knuckles.
He tried to box out the voice with the mantra, and the image of Anya’s deliriously happy smile and elegant laugh.
That was his lot as her knight, after all: to ensure her happiness, wherever that may be.
She’s with a real pack now, the voice hissed. You rest your future on the Lupus Star, but they may be nothing but corpses under the waves.
His chest seized on the horrific images that flooded his mind. Annette and Bernard drowning with their baby; Ornella, Gail, Dame Fletcher and the captain sinking beneath the waves; Octavio desperately trying to keep Lady Rowan above water.
Love is loss—and you’re the biggest loser of them all.
Roderick shook his head, bringing his happy memories with the crew—his pack—and Anya, back to the surface.
Love hurt. It was raw and aching and could beat you down like a merciless fist. But it was also proof of life, like the velvety blossoms on a tree that for months had appeared to be long past dead. Love was beautiful sacrifice, ugly truth—and utterly unconditional.
Love was worth it.
He’d just entered their camp clearing as he heard a frantic patter of feet on the underbrush behind him.
His pulse skyrocketed. Before he could turn around, four heavy paws slammed into his back.
Terror locked his fangs into place. He tried to wrench himself around to face his attacker, but their strength was unyielding.