32. CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 32
Grayson
Crusted snow covered the worst of the carnage. For some, it was easier to see an uneven field and believe the lumps were rocks or dormant shrubbery, not the bodies of the fallen. Overhead, white star-shaped flakes drifted from a mournful sky. The wind howled, whistling through the trees as if to ignore the dead. Otherwise, everything was silent. No birds circling like black scavengers. No banners to flap in the beaten-metal air. No drums to call the living home.
No glory in what had been done here.
Five days had passed since the attack on Owen Griffith’s settlement, and what remained of the buildings smoldered on the far horizon. Those who escaped that day had done so by the grace of fate and their preparedness. Those who ran toward the fight had been victorious—if victory meant the few left standing when hostages had been taken.
But we’d left all that behind—the blackened skeletons of what had once been homes—and as we’d left, a dog had howled with the cry of the abandoned. I’d wondered if it was Burn.
This new carnage spreading at my feet, though, was here for a reason. Broken spears stood at uncommon angles. Hairy pigs lay beneath the snow, but the wolves who died had reverted to their human forms, and although we’d arrived too late to swing the battle, I had to walk this field. I had to see… needed to fucking see who lay beneath the snow.
Wind sliced through the heavy tunic I wore. I didn’t notice the cold as I walked from mound to mound, pushing aside snow with my fingers. Looking for the faces. Those I identified. Counting the dead.
The sun hovered low behind the clouds, but still a sharp, edgy blade. Sparse daylight remained, and each minute pounded with urgency. Catrina had been taken. Adriel. Pond, and Levi, who’d been helping with the evacuation. My first fear was that I’d find them here, lost and cold. But each face I uncovered burned me with a vengeful relief—no one I recognized, but each one was worth killing for, and I would kill those responsible. By my honor and my blood, I would find them. Not stop until it was done, although this fighting field was here to slow us down. Enrage us with the cost in pursuit.
I wasn’t sure who the men were, buried beneath the snow. Perhaps they came from Cariboo. Or Alpen rebels I hadn’t met. From the way the bodies lay, the ambush caught them unaware. Men with more bravery than experience, but willing to fight.
I straightened, bent my head for a moment, unable to draw the lament to my lips through the knot in my throat. The first notes were rough and broken. But I owed them the honor, to sing their souls home. As Alpha, to mourn their loss. Their value. To shed the tears of their loved ones.
“The snow weeps and covers their bones, with no one left to cry,” Mace said from behind me. “We can’t spare the arrows to let them go.”
One to light the way. One to break the bonds.
I turned away.
“What do your spies tell you?”
“A small force guards the hostages. The larger hides and waits.”
“They head north?”
“Toward a valley. Sheer mountains all around. Both Pike and Cashel will scout ahead.”
Snow was easy to knock down.
“We get the hostages first.”
“Goes without saying.”
Snow crunched beneath my feet as we walked back to the camp. Fires burned in iron cages. The scent of cooking meat hung in the air. Voices were subdued and angry, the usual in camps where the men hated war with the same vengeance that drove them to fight.
Our numbers were fewer than we needed, but weeks ago, we’d sent exploratory teams through the breach in the Alpen’s passage. Found a backdoor into Cariboo territory. Since then, we’d been moving men and supplies through the passage while the men under Mace’s command were moving overland with me.
We were the decoys, drawing Amal’s attention while teams searched newly discovered passages for useful ratholes.
And because the hostages were also not moving through passages, that meant they were decoys, too. Intended to draw my attention.
It changed nothing. Lec Rus would arrive soon with the next shipment of supplies—if the weather held. But the supplies and reinforcements would follow us if we left tonight. A possibility, since we were close enough to the hostages to strike. Something we needed to do before they went too far into the mountains of Cariboo.
Fallon stood at the command tent’s entrance, holding back the flap. She’d insisted on coming, managed the weakness in her leg with gritted teeth. I needed her expertise and respected her ability to know her own limits.
Anson had his own command tent, thick white canvas and wooden floors. Elijah Stone was with him, as well as a dozen trusted men. All of them were lethal fighters. We’d be meeting after a hot meal. A chance to recuperate and then plan.
I studied Fallon’s expression as I passed with Mace at my side. She wore the speckled raw wool beneath her leather. Her blonde braid wrapped around her head, making her look like an ancient warrior. She flicked her hand to snap the tent flap closed; the gesture was imperious.
Inside the tent, a copper brazier glowed with charcoal beneath a vent to the outside. The raised wooden floor and tossed rugs tempered the chill. Hanging camp lanterns provided light. Blankets and bear pelts lay over camp chairs and the canvas-and-wood cots that were hellishly uncomfortable. I’d lived with worse conditions. And once we left the roads, ventured into the mountains, even these small comforts would disappear.
“Noa reached the base camp,” Fallon said without preamble.
I hid the excitement jolting through me. I’d known when she arrived in Azul. Known when she’d hitched a ride with the convoy, hiding in the last truck. All day—and every day she’d been gone—I’d struggled with the worry. Where she was, what might go wrong. Who might have intercepted her. What—if she was successful—it would mean for her. For us. If she returned with something useful from the witch, Pelonie, who had deceived the queens, stolen the wolves.
Now she was facing Lec Rus, and I wasn’t there for her.
“It gets worse,” Fallon said. “Barend showed up with his vampires, and I guess it turned into a royal pissing contest over who got control of Noa, with Angel casting the deciding vote.”
I looked at her, and she grinned. “Looks like Noa won the gods-damned parent prize.”
Mace stalked to the brazier and stirred up the coals. He excelled at managing the fighters while Fallon handled communication, but every time she knew more than he did, his annoyance simmered.
“Turns out Angel is an Alpha,” Fallon gloated. “And not just any alpha. She’s the Blackfish—alpha of legendary fighters.” Her glance toward Mace was thick with satisfaction. “I told you not to underestimate a one-eyed fighter who showed up too many times to be coincidental. And the kicker? Angel’s brother—the murdered alpha? Happens to be Noa’s long-dead father. Bronson Dade. The man who never came back for Noa’s mother.”
“Are you fucking with me?” Mace growled.
Fallon smiled. “I have more. Angel has half her fighters with her and they all have Noa’s back. See her as the daughter of their fallen Blackfish. I’m guessing the other half are in the forest somewhere, hiding on the crags despite the storm. Close to a hundred reinforcements, white ghosts you’ll never see.”
“No wonder they call her Angel.”
“She told us as much,” I reminded Mace, shaking myself for not guessing. I’d been too willing to excuse the similarities I’d seen, blaming them on fatigue and missing my mate. But relief flowed through me. We needed the help. Witches weren’t worth much for fighting. Neither were the nymphs. Their skills were more magical. And if the Blackfish were offering to protect Noa? If her father was their murdered Alpha, I’d trust no one more.
“How’d Noa take it?” Mace asked. “Learning the family connection?”
“From what your spies told me, she didn’t take it very well.”
I huffed a laugh, picturing her bright indignation. The flaring heat that had always turned me on, the fearlessness she never saw in herself. From the moment I met her, I’d recognized the truth in her—she fought like a woman who didn’t know her own strength.
My throat closed—pride or fear or both. But what surged for my mate was profound and soulful. And it made sense, who she was, if her father had been the Blackfish. Also a man with a destin noir. Who fought hard for justice and died young. Too damn young.
The information I had on the pack was limited, but impressive. Centuries ago, they’d dominated in the eastern part of the country, but population and modern pressures drove them steadily west and into the less populated areas. They became known for stealth and vengeance if the cause was right. Many had gained military prowess through covert services, serving under humans who either knew who they were or knew enough not to dig into medical reports that seemed strange.
I rubbed at my face with an unsteady hand, thankful for the news. Stew served as the hot meal, brought by one of the camp females. After we’d eaten, Fallon poured an inch of whiskey into glasses and held them out. Mace accepted the glass she offered with his fingers brushing hers. I saw it as a silent apology between them, and let the warmth of alcohol ease my throat.
“Alpha.” A guard stood with his hand holding back the tent flap. Light glittered on the knife he wore, sheathed around his thigh, and the leather belting his woolen tunic. “The Carmag wishes an audience.”
I gestured with the whiskey glass and turned away. “Let him enter.”
Anson walked in with Elijah and a blast of frigid air. The light outside was completely gone. Night had fallen swiftly, and only a crescent moon burned in an endless black sky, stabbed by distant stars.
Fallon did the honors with the whiskey, filling glasses. Then we gathered around the table covered with the map Mace had been studying. Polished stones weighted down the corners. We had nothing fancy in the field.
“I’ve cared for the dead,” the Carmag said. Meaning he’d burned the aberrations while honoring the dead wolves with a funeral pyre. “You sang the lament,” he added, his voice lowered. “I also sang before I came.”
“Then it’s done.”
“This time.”
I held the glass to my lips. Everyone around the table did the same, lost in silent memories.
“What about the weather?” asked Mace as he glanced at Elijah.
“There’s a break now, but another blizzard looms in the north.”
“Natural or one of her tricks?”
Anson’s military advisor shrugged and said, “Does it matter? We can use the snow.”
The Carmag added, “They said Noa’s at base.”
I glanced at Anson. “Unlikely allies showing up.” I explained about Angel, her wolves, and their promise to protect Noa. About Barend and his request to save Antoine. Lec Rus, barely behaving himself.
“Does this change the goal?”
To carve a pathway to Amal.
I sipped, swallowed. “The goal is the same. Retrieve the hostages. Clear the way for her.”
“Be the bait,” he said.
“Amal has lured us out, Anson. It’s obvious that we’re in open pursuit.”
“What’s her fecking end game?”
“To win.”
A muscle jerked in Anson’s jaw. “How do you see her doing that?”
I stared at the map, set aside the whiskey and traced a finger along an unmarked route. “She’ll thin the ranks until the center stands alone.”
“You,” said the Carmag. “And then the center falls.”
“The center reveals his teeth.”
“It’s you she wants, man. The dread lord, descended from the kings. Defeat you, and everything falls.”
A flash of alpha canines. “I intend to give Amal what she wants.”
“I hope you mean the illusion.”
“With Noa’s help.” What I had in mind was the reverse. My role was to make sure Noa got close enough to Amal to strike a killing blow.
“Alpha.” The guard again. His grip on the tent flap whitened his knuckles. “Someone else to see you.”
He stood aside as a cloaked woman entered. The black hood concealed her features. She’d hidden her hands within voluminous sleeves. Tension whipped through the tent at the first kiss of her energy as she said, “I am Arra Sona.”
She pushed back the veiling hood, revealing her identity—the witch from the Farmer’s Market. No wrinkles marred her face, and her hair had the wine-dark sheen of undetermined youth—or powerful magic. The bone necklace clacked at her throat as she added, “High Sorceress for the Gemini Witch coven.”
“You are welcome here,” I said, only because we needed allies, not enemies, and the Gemini Witches were useful as seers.
“It would not matter,” she said. “Welcome or unwelcome, we fight the same war. And your efforts are needed more than mine tonight.”
“What have you seen?”
“A storm moves closer. You must leave before it arrives, catch the enemy in the open, or the hostages will be lost.”
“We’ve all seen the storm coming.” Elijah forced his shoulders back with a male preening that thinned the smile on Arra Sona’s lips.
“You’d reject the gift you’ve been offered?”
The look she threw at him screamed, fool , bringing to life the witches from long ago, who had thrown similar looks at me while they offered their prophesies.
The High Sorceress glided to the brazier and removed a small packet from her pocket. She tossed the contents on the glowing coals, and I stiffened at the hiss of dried herbs, the whoosh of whitish smoke.
The pungent scent prompted Elijah Stone to protest. Anson took Elijah’s arm, pulled him back while the witch stared into the smoke and the rest of us tried not to inhale too deeply.
Finally, she said, “The witch, Pelonie, has been nulled by the effigy.” Words that collapsed the air in the room. “She can no longer wield the seidr magic.”
Meaning stabbed and my lip curled back. “You risked Noa for your own purposes?”
“A minor risk.” The witch’s stare chilled. “I left the effigy knowing she would succeed, and she severed the first half of the circle. Now she has the rune stone, with one cut remaining. Worth every cost if it nulls the sins of the kings and queens. We have also suffered these past centuries because of the misused magic. The disaster must end.”
“And how are we ending it?”
The witch’s power flared. “She has the queen’s rune. I believe she has enough knowledge to wield the magic. To do what must be done.”
I gritted my teeth. “We’re still miles from Amal’s fortress. We have to get inside—”
“All of which I’ve foreseen. You alone will get her close enough to do it. No one else will have the strength to go against Amal.”
“I plan on doing just that.”
“You walk a path you cannot change.”
“Everyone dies,” I countered coldly.
“Make yours a good death, wolf.”
“Fuck me,” Mace snarled.
But the High Sorceress for the Gemini Witches was gone, leaving only the scent of burning, hostile herbs behind.
I was pushing spare clothes into a backpack when Fallon reentered the tent. Everyone else had left after Arra Sona disappeared: Anson to plan his moves with the primary force, and Mace to select his team. Limited to volunteers only. We would move swiftly, and once the hostages were rescued, we’d strike without mercy. Push on toward Amal.
We all carried clothes since shifting was likely. Let the wolves tear into those holding ours.
Reports were sketchy, but Amal’s conscripts guarded the hostages. Cariboo men who either sided willingly with Amal or were forced into compliance. They’d made camp five miles ahead. A hard but fast race despite the snow.
“Gray,” my second in command said, her voice low and controlled. “It’s almost time.”
I swung the pack from the cot, hooked the shoulder straps. “I’m leaving you in charge. Be ready when the hostages return. You know what to do. I’ll be going on, and you know…” I cleared my throat. “You know—”
“I know you love me. And I’ll watch over Noa because that goes without saying.”
I turned to face Fallon, read the tense pain written all over her face. “You’re the sister of my heart. If I don’t come back—”
“No!” she hissed. “Don’t you fucking give me your last words, Gray. Don’t stand there telling me to pick up the pieces of what used to be Mace. Don’t fucking speak that future into being just because some seer comes in here and says that shit of hers. I want to see the strength and determination in your face. The goodness. I want to see you striding off to battle and know we’ll see each other on the other side.”
Tears were streaming down her face.
I leaned in, cupped the back of her head, and kissed her forehead.
“Gray.”
I didn’t answer, only managed a smile, offering everything she wanted before I turned and walked out the door.