Wolf pack, p.5
Wolf Pack, page 5
“Incoming,” Rom said.
Ferth jerked his head up, and the healer reeled back.
“Just a bit more,” she said.
“It’s Shale, and she’d headed this way.”
The healer pressed Ferth’s head firmly back into the cot, but her touch was kind, more tender than he’d ever deserve.
“Stop her,” Ferth said to Rom.
Rom’s bark carried through the walls. Through their mental connection, Ferth sensed him pacing in front of Shale as she tried to step past him.
“Let me in, Rom,” Shale said. “Xandra saw him go in. I know he’s in there, and I will find out why.”
Rom barked.
“I’m going in there.”
He leaped in her path, using his bulk to block her legs. He nuzzled her waist back with his head. His meaning was clear.
She shoved him away. “You’ll have to fight me to stop me.” She pushed past.
Rom snarled low and deadly, flashing her razor-sharp canines.
She ignored him.
“No respect,” Rom said to Ferth.
Shale opened the door to the healers’ building.
“Cover me,” Ferth said to the woman.
“I’m not finished.”
He got to his elbows and looked up at the terrifying woman charging through the tent. Shale’s gaze locked on him and slid down his back.
Too late.
Rom heard Shale’s horrified gasp all the way from his station outside.
Ferth turned his face away from Shale and sank to the cot.
The healer resumed her work.
Heavy minutes ticked by in silence. Ferth could feel Shale’s gaze stinging across his skin. He could almost hear her thoughts turning. His heart sank.
The healer spread cool balm over his lashes. “On your hands and knees while I do the wrapping.”
He obeyed, face tilted sharply away from Shale’s direction as the healer wrapped gauze around and around his furless torso. He didn’t dare look over. Was she still there? He wouldn’t blame her if she’d left. He sank back to his stomach, feeling weak as a baby and heavier than a full-grown magu.
“Rest as long as you like,” the healer said. “Come back tonight, and I’ll replace the balm.”
“Thank you.” The words didn’t adequately express how much her compassion had healed not only his back, but his heart.
The healer took her tools and padded away.
Silence reigned.
Ferth sighed, telling himself it was better that Shale left. He did not need to see her gloating—enjoying his lowliness.
Tender fingers traced his jaw. His eyes flew open and locked on her face. Green eyes were inches from his. Her voice was a whisper. Her breath caressed his neck. “They did this to you because of me.” There was no triumph in her face. Fat tears brightened her eyes and rolled down her pink cheeks.
Why wasn’t she celebrating this? “Shale, no.”
“I’m so sorry, Ferth.”
His own eyes watered. She was sorry? How?
She put a hand on the back of his neck and rested her forehead against his. He didn’t move a millimeter. He couldn’t. She smelled of gardenias and girl—of Shale. “We’re free now.”
He wasn’t sure that was true for him. But she was free. That was what mattered. Chills carpeted his skin when she let go. She turned and ran toward the door, wiping at her face. Ferth lay on that bed for a long time. When would he stop hurting her?
Seven - Found
SHALE
Shale couldn’t wait anymore. She’d watched Uriah for three days of mourning.
If he would just look at her. See her.
But he’d hardly glanced her direction, even when she’d had to report every heartbreaking detail of her return trip to Skotar and Cal’s death to the commander. Uriah had been there, but he’d kept his face in his hands and his eyes down.
She’d suffered to give him space to grieve, in which time he’d sunk into a dark abyss. She would wait no longer.
As she stepped up to Uriah’s tent, her excited heart spun.
“Hello,” she called at the door.
After waiting through a breath of silence, she slipped through the stiff flaps.
The tent was big, too big for only one bed, even if the man heaped on top of it was large.
“Hello, Uriah.”
His head lifted from the mattress, and he trained chocolaty eyes on her.
Oh, those eyes. They warmed her heart and raised goosebumps along her arms.
“I brought you some dinner.” She held out the plate in offering.
His eyes narrowed. “Who sent you?”
“No one sent me.” Her tone carried a slight bite. Did they send women to soldier’s tents around here too? She refused to believe it, refused to acknowledge that she might not have escaped all her demons, that the humans could be so much like the Draco Sang.
“Cal would have,” he said.
Cal didn’t seem like the sort of man who sent women to bed his friends. No, he would not. She refused to taint the dead man’s memory. She had looked into Cal’s beautiful eyes, and she’d never forget the goodness brimming there.
Uriah slumped back onto the mattress as if the mention of Cal sent a fresh wave of physical pain through him.
Shale sighed. His anguish was real, and she sorrowed too, but she didn’t want his sulkiness now. Not when she’d fantasized about this reunion for twelve years, when she never thought she’d see Uriah again.
Hands shaking, she set the food down and strode over to the cold fire pit. She deftly lit the kindling as the last daylight leaked away with the setting sun. She built up the fire until golden warmth chased the shadows away.
He hadn’t moved from the bed, and she’d had enough. She marched over to his side, put her hand squarely on her hips, and with a tone she’d learned from their mother, she said to his back, “Uriah Granadine, get up right now. I need a good look at my brother.” She tried to be stern as she said it, but the last words were slurred by her tears. She bit into her knuckles. Her lips trembled.
In one shocked movement, he flipped over and sat up as he swung his legs over the bed in front of her. The color drained from his face as his eyes, deep as the Danbe Canyon, took her in.
For a heartbeat, fear stabbed through her. What if he didn’t remember her? What if he didn’t care?
“Suzaena?” He said her name as if it were a prayer, a hope, a dream.
She nodded, unable to speak as her shoulders shook. Her heart swelled so large she thought her ribs might crack, and then he was there, standing with her. His arms went around her shoulders, and she melted against his chest.
“Suza.” His voice was thick with emotion. “You’re alive. You’re here. You’re ...” He pulled back and touched a calloused thumb to her cheek.
Human.
She smiled at the look of awe in his face.
He drew her into his embrace again, holding so tight she could barely breathe. But she didn’t need air when she had him. Warmth permeated her whole body. In all her longings for home, never once in her dreams had it felt like this.
Time stopped as they stood encircled.
Finally, Uriah’s voice cracked the spell. “Mother?”
Suza shook her head into his shirt. “No.”
He pulled away and looked over her face again, as if studying it carefully. She tried to do the same but was hindered by the grimy skin, shaggy hair, and unkempt beard.
“Tell me.”
She nodded, and he led her to the chairs by the fire.
What could she tell? How could she burden her already grieving brother with her past?
Her gaze shifted from his face, the face of a man acquainted with sorrow and eyes that had already seen too much death, features that mirrored her own. Near their feet, flames danced destruction on the logs.
“I need to know,” he said. “Tell me the truth. All of it.”
Their dinner grew cold as Suza dug up memories she’d buried deep in the fields of her soul.
The last time she’d seen her brother had been when their mother had hidden him in that ditch moments before the search party found them. He’d landed in a rosemary thicket, the scent helping mask his presence.
“When they found us, they dragged us back to Gristlecove.” She wasn’t going to mention how they’d whipped their mother senseless. “They kept asking her about you. You were too valuable to lose. Mother insisted you were dead. Killed from a fall during our escape attempt. Finally, they believed her, I think that’s because she actually believed it herself.” Suza hesitated. “We thought you were dead.” She looked at her brother then, soaked him in, afraid she’d lose him again. Pressure built behind her eyes. Here he was, strong and beautiful and human and alive.
He reached out and gripped her hand with a thick palm.
“Mother saved me. I wish I could tell her. I wish I could see her again.” His voice was hoarse.
“Gristlecove must truly have cared for her.” Suza paused remembering the black stare of the hyena Draco. “In his own way, at least, because he didn’t kill her. They brought her back and added to her duties and left her. I think that might have been worse for her. Her escape fruitless, her son left for dead, and still the Draco lord controlled her.”
Uriah’s grip tightened around Suza’s fingers.
“She got sick. Every month she withered. By the time I turned ten and joined the hatchlings in training, she was a wisp. I buried myself in training, pushing hard and planning how I would one day save her. I didn’t realize as I learned to fight, I was becoming more like ...” Our father. “Them. I tried to bring her stolen medicine and food, but Mother continued to die a little more each day. Only in her eyes could I find our mother. As if they housed her whole soul. As if she’d already left her body.” Suza looked at Uriah’s eyes and saw their mother again. He had the same brown orbs she’d missed so much. “She got pregnant and tried to hide it. I didn’t even know. Not until the baby came.” Her body shook as she remembered what came next. “The baby was born dead. Mother tried to bury the body in secret, but the smell was too strong to hide from Lord Hyena. He found her as she dug a grave in the Trimp Forest.”
“But that’s just outside the gates.”
She nodded. “I don’t think she had the strength to go farther.” She sucked in a breath as she remembered the scene. She’d woken in haste, somehow knowing something was wrong. The image of Gristlecove dragging her mother into the courtyard was scarred into her mind. The sun’s early rays had lit up the blood painting her mother’s dress crimson and running down her pale legs. She forced herself to share the memory. “She had just given birth. She should have been in bed. Gristlecove himself bore the whip. He yelled at her, waking the world. Sleepy Dracos waded out of the buildings at the commotion. Gristlecove told her that she’d taken all his babies from him. Destroyed his heirdom. He pointed at me then, his mottled face festering with rage. ‘You left me with a girl too weak to become a Draco Sang!’” Suza’s voice lowered. “I was only fourteen. Many in my class hadn’t yet shown signs of the beast. I was ashamed of what he said. I knew I was growing strong and would make a good fighter one day. As Gristlecove brought the whip up, mother rolled over so he would be forced to strike her front. She was covered in blood already, her shift soaked from the waist down. Her face was gray. She tilted toward me and with a voice louder than I thought her lungs could manage said, ‘I hope she never does. She’s too good for you.’ Something broke inside me then. A gate or a wall or whatever had held me up gave way. Gristlecove hesitated for a moment at her words, and then I saw the whip rise higher. He would kill her. I dove. I landed over mother as the whip came down on my back.”
Suza shuttered, and Uriah inched closer, but stayed silent, his face intent on her every word.
“She looked at me, and for a heartbeat there was life in her eyes. I can still see her in that brief moment. Her horror was replaced with hope. She looked at me with so much love. And then. Right there under me, she left. She died at my chest.” Suza wiped at the tears that refused to abate. She’d never shared this with anyone, and the flood of emotion would not be restrained.
“It’s a blur after that. The whip fell, but I’ve no idea how many times. You might be able to tell by counting the stripes on my back. But I remember pain. They threw her body and the baby’s body in a shallow grave, didn’t even give her the respect of a funeral fire. They put salve on my back and told me to be ready to train the next day. That night my beast emerged. But not in me. No. Next to me. A hawk.”
Uriah glanced around.
“She’s been on your roof. Xandra doesn’t like confined spaces. She’s lived so long in hiding.”
She strode over to the tent and pulled back the door. Xandra glided in and landed in front of Uriah.
Uriah’s eyes lit up with pride, and his lip curved. “Impressive, Suza. She’s exquisite.”
Xandra puffed up, as did she. She sat by her bird and stroked a few feathers before continuing with her harrowing story.
“I’d seen it happen to another underling. Another abomination. A girl and her horse. They killed the horse. She went mad, attacking the Dracos and screaming all the time. They killed her too, in the end. I was terrified.”
Uriah’s face fell back into grim stone.
“For days I lived in fear, hiding Xandra in the forest and failing to think of a way out. When it came time for Lord Gristlecove to send his tribute to Queen Mavras, I made a plan. I snuck out after the wagons left and followed from a distance, knowing that the guards would recognize me. I stole a slave’s shift from the wagon, and the night before we reached Shi Castle, I gave myself the brand.”
Uriah gasped, and Suza flinched. He glanced at her sleeve, and she pulled it back, revealing the stark scar on her forearm. He drew her arm forward and tenderly traced the brand with his thumb.
She’d seen it done by Dracos before: when an underling had lost their beast or when human babies were born. And her life had depended on it, but still, bringing that knife to her skin had been harder than she’d ever imagined. She’d lit a small fire and thrust in her blade. When her knife glowed, she sliced the barbed triangle and crescent of the slave mark into her right forearm. Her left hand wasn’t nearly as good with a knife, and she’d had to go excruciatingly slowly to get it correct. She had intended to cut away the Draco brand on her chest until it no longer read, GS10285. But she hadn’t been able to go through with it. She’d plastered marl on it instead and kept it hidden under long hair when in the slave baths.
“You did this.” Uriah’s fingers tickled the damaged nerve endings around the scar. “My little sister did this. You’re tougher than any warrior I know.”
She smiled, her chest expanding at his praise and his warm touch on her arm. “The next morning, I tied the dagger to my thigh.” She unsheathed the knife from where she now kept it within easy reach on her belt.
“Dracosteel. Nice. The humans can’t make anything like it.” Uriah turned it over in his hands, noting the G on the end of the handle. He lifted a brow at her. “Our father’s favorite, if I remember.”
“I took it before I left.” She smirked, delighted when he chuckled at her. She’d always wanted to impress her brother. He handed her back the knife and nodded for her to continue. “I left my other weapons and gear hidden in the forest and slipped into my stolen shift. I think it was better I didn’t have too much time to think about what I was doing. I snuck in with the cluster of Gristlecove’s slave tributes just before reaching Shi Castle. The scar was red, raw, and blistering. I should have cut the brand the minute I left Gristlecove, but it ended up being fine. The attendant didn’t even look for my slave brand before assigning me to the kitchens. The kitchens are the best place for a slave to hide.”
She shrugged. “I told them Gristlecove had shaved my head as a punishment. It was odd, as that was never done at Shi Castle—slaves were banned from cutting their hair—but they believed me. It did not benefit them to doubt my story. That’s about it. Slave there for three years under the name Shale, and then I came south with the Dracos’ advance half company and made my escape when baby Callie finally gave me the courage.”
Uriah looked at her in awe.
She smiled and poked him with her elbow. “Your turn. Tell me everything.”
And so he did. She laughed and cried when he told her about his grizzly bear hewan, Poe, who had died saving Zemira and baby Callie Poe. He told her how Captain Titus had found him starved and scared in Kiptos after he’d managed to survive the crossing into Elysium. Titus had become like a father to him, but no one had come close to replacing Mother. He told her how he’d been in the middle of Mitera when he’d conquered his blood. He hadn’t even done anything momentous. It had seemed like a normal spring day. He’d sat to rest by a fountain while Titus was buying himself another hat—the man loved his hats. Uriah had been watching a toddler trying to pull coins from the water, and he’d thought how much he’d enjoy being a father one day. He’d be the antithesis of Gristlecove. And the next thing Uriah knew, Poe was there, helping the little girl fish for bronzes.
Uriah hadn’t meant to join the army, but he was exceptionally good at fighting, and Elysium needed good soldiers. He shuddered. Oh, how they needed good soldiers. So he was doing his part, but he hoped this wouldn’t be his whole life. He wanted to find a woman and make babies. At some point in his story, Suza had nestled against his side, and she poked his ribs at the way he said make babies.
He laughed. A real laugh that drew a satisfied sigh from his little sister.
The moon went to bed while they talked and talked. Dawn found them asleep atop pillows near the cold fire.
Eight - Alone
FERTH
“Want me to go in there and break them up?” Lyko asked. Ferth caught the mocking undertone as the wolf thumped down in the dirt.
Ferth deserved to be mocked. Shale had gone into Uriah’s tent hours ago, and still Ferth watched for her to leave. And still she hadn’t. Why was he torturing himself? Let. Her. Go. She wasn’t even his to let go of.
