Chapter 73
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
ROSAMUND
The journey is a dream. Holding on to Valen’s neck, I ride through the plain like the wind, so fast that the landscape is a blur. The other two wolves flank us, occasionally running ahead to scout.
The lowlands give way to hills and rises, and the mountains jut up ahead like the teeth of a giant monster biting through the crust of the earth. They aren’t bare, though, as they’d seemed from afar. Their steep slopes are covered in forest, and streams trickle down.
The loping run of the wolves eats the distance. I’m not sure riding a horse would have been faster. The dream rips, wisps of memories tearing away from me. Nightmares falling away. Monsters that haunted me getting trampled under the wolves’ paws.
Freeing me.
Whatever this new world I’m traveling to is like, I’m ready for the change. The adventure of a lifetime. The hope for a new beginning.
Tired, after what feels like forever, I rest my head on Valen’s back, where his strong neck rises.
My hands are fisted in his thick fur, and his scent is soothing, embracing me.
I don’t mean to fall asleep, but the last couple of days are catching up with me.
Valen’s pace becomes slower, lulling me.
I’m shaken awake when he rises to his feet. I hadn’t realized when we stopped. I wish I could talk to him in this form. I think of him, and I feel a warm spot inside my chest. When I card my fingers through his fur, it becomes warmer, glowing like a small star.
“Valen,” I whisper, and the star pulses. A tingle travels down my spine, and I shiver.
I can feel him. I thought it was all in my mind when it happened before, but now I’m starting to think it’s something else. Something real.
Bondmate. He used that term, and I’ve read accounts of mating bonds. Hells, the two most famous love stories of all time, Persephona and Elisseas, but also Aethre and Jaien, speak of fated mate bonds.
Fate is a much-debated matter, and I thought such bonds were the stuff of legend, but I sometimes forget that such stories can be based on real events and people.
Valen growls softly, shaking his head, and I pet his neck. We’re climbing up the mountain slope now, the scent of pine and the spice of herbs tickling my nose.
We’re journeying through a thickening forest, the steep slopes interchanged with plateaus where hamlets and animal enclosures sit. The air is getting colder, crispier, stinging my cheeks. I can taste winter on my tongue, taste woodfire smoke and animal trails, rotten bark and frail blossoms.
Valen told me how beautiful his home is, but I couldn’t have imagined what I’m seeing and sensing.
The cold closes over me. I’m shivering. My dress wasn’t made for this weather, and although Valen’s heat seeps into me through his fur, I’m frozen to the bone.
Another hamlet, low stone walls enclosing orchards and flower gardens. Deer and wild goats peek at us around trees, then leap away, quick as thoughts.
The sky looks closer here; the domed firmament where the stars crawl and twinkle at night, where the clouds roam during the day. The more air I draw into my lungs, clean and tasting of ice and snow, the clearer my head gets.
The sharper my joy.
“I love you, Valen,” I whisper.
He leaps over a small stream and lets out a high howl that sounds like a reply.
We climb past a farm and a village with a paved road and neat cottages, when the city rises above us.
“Oh my Gods,” I whisper, awestruck. I’ve never seen the capital of the world, Siris, or any other city, so anything would look amazing to a country girl like me, but still... It’s so majestic and beautiful.
Built on a larger plateau but also on the steep slope below, above, and at the sides, it hangs off the mountainside like a pale gem.
The style is definitely fae, with tall spires and steep roofs, narrow arched windows and doors.
There is no defensive wall around the city, I realize as we approach, only a road leading into it, winding on the mountain like a snake.
No need for a defense up here, with the shifters roaming the forests.
“I didn’t expect this,” I whisper. “Any of this.”
Valen and his friends leap onto the road, and we climb up toward the first houses. They have two stories, and their front doors are massive, made of heavy wood and large iron nails. The frames of the windows are metal, too, as are the beam fixers for the upper floors in the walls.
A lot of metal, probably mined right here, in the mountains.
Right on cue, we pass by a smithy, dark smoke rising from its chimney. The clang of metal on metal comes from its open door.
The road meanders upward, and the houses become more lavish, made of stone, white marble sparkling in their facades and gleaming silver inlaid in their wooden doors.
And at the end of the road rises a palace.
“Holy Gods,” I breathe, staring, my eyes round and my mouth hanging open. “I know you spoke of the forest, of the wilderness, but this city is your best-kept secret, isn’t it?”
Valen yips. He sounds like he’s laughing.
“A sparkling city in the mountains,” I whisper. “Everyone thinks you’re living in caves and under the trees. That you have a few houses, at best. I also thought you spent most of your time running around naked. I mean, in wolf form, at least.”
Now, one of the other wolves yips. I think it’s Darian. Konstam sounds like he’s cackling.
Great. They are all laughing at me. And rightly so.
Why wouldn’t they have a civilization, born out of the ashes of the magic change?
How would having an animal form prevent them from spending most of their life in a humanoid form, building cities, trading and farming, hunting and courting, and living like the rest of us?
Probably living better than the rest of us, in fact. Gods, this place is so pretty. So clean. I start when a black wolf crosses the street. A lady watches us pass by from her open door, a small child clutching her skirt. A cat hisses, racing away from us.
That almost makes me laugh. Cats and wolves.
But we don’t continue to the palace. My wolves turn away and into a side street running along the slope. We pass by rich houses with vines climbing their facades, dogs barking behind fences. A stork alights on a stork nest in a chimney.
“Where are we going?” I ask, although I don’t expect an answer. I do get a pulse of warmth where I can feel Valen in my chest. A reassuring prod.
We stop in front of a stone facade. A rope hangs beside the door.
Darian places his forepaws on the wall and grabs the rope with his teeth, tugging. A bell tolls inside.
The door opens, and a tall, broad-shouldered man with tousled black hair and silver in his pointed ears stands in the opening. He’s frowning, but his expression clears when he sees us.
“Lads, you’re finally back. Come on inside.”
It looks like Valen has brought me to his home.