Page 82 of Rule of Wolves

You’ve been living beneath the roof of the country’s most notorious witchhunter for months, she reminded herself. But this felt different, as if she were willingly walking into a cell and she’d have only herself to blame when the door slammed shut behind her.

They passed beneath the colossal arch and into the courtyard lined with kennels.

“Tigen, tigen,” Brum crooned as he approached the cages on the right, where the largest of the white wolves leapt and snapped at the air. Wolves trained to fight alongside their masters, to help them hunt down Grisha. The animals took no notice of Brum’s soothing words, growling and snarling, pressing against the wire fences. “You can smell the hunt, eh, Devjer? Don’t be afraid, Mila,” he said with a laugh. “They can’t get you.”

She thought of Trassel, Matthias’ wolf, with his scarred eye and huge jaws. He’d saved her life and she’d helped him find his pack.

She took a step toward the fences, then another. One of the wolves began to whine and then the animals fell silent, going to their bellies, resting their heads on their paws.

“Strange,” said Brum, his brow furrowing. “I’ve never seen them do that before.”

“They must not be used to having women here,” said Hanne hurriedly, but her eyes were startled.

Do you know me? Nina wondered as the wolves whimpered softly. Do you know Trassel watched over me? Do you know I walk with death?

Brum knelt by the cages. “Even so—”

An alarm began to ring, a high, staccato sound that rattled the air.

A shout came from the guardhouse. “Commander Brum! Red protocol!”

“Where was it triggered?” demanded Brum.

“Prison sector.”

Sector breach. And right on time. The night she’d hatched her plans with Hanne, she’d tossed a handful of special salts into the fire, so that they would send a burst of red smoke into the sky above the Ice Court—a signal to the Hringsa lookout posted nearby. The network hadn’t been able to get a servant into Brum’s quarters, but Nina was able to pass information to one of the gardeners, who had served as a messenger and informant. She needed a distraction, a big one, at just after ten bells. They’d delivered, but she couldn’t be certain how much time she had.

Brum’s men lined up behind him, rifles in hand, clubs and whips at the ready. “Stay here,” he told Hanne. “The guards will remain posted on the ringwall.”

“What’s happening?” Nina cried.

“There’s some kind of disturbance. Most likely it’s nothing. I’ll be back in no time.”

Nina forced tears to fill her eyes. “You can’t just leave us here!”

“Calm yourself,” Brum snapped. Nina flinched and pressed her hand over her mouth, but she felt like laughing. Jarl Brum, the great protector. But he only liked his women weak and wailing when it was convenient for him. The prison sector had been breached before and Jarl Brum had been made a fool. He didn’t intend to let that happen again.

“You can’t leave us defenseless,” Hanne said. “Give me a gun.”

Brum hesitated. “Hanne—”

“You can abide by propriety or put a weapon in my hand and let me defend myself.”

“Do you even know how to use a revolver?”

With a sure hand, Hanne spun the barrel to make sure it was loaded. “You taught me well.”

“Years ago.”

“I didn’t forget.”

Brum’s expression was troubled, but all he said was, “Be careful.” He and his men vanished through the gate.

Two guards remained on the battlements, but they had their attention turned outward, rifles raised and pointed at whoever might seek to breach the ringwall.

“Go,” said Hanne. “But be quick.”

Nina hurried across the courtyard past the kennels and the wolves, who stared at her silently despite the commotion. She had never regretted her heavy skirts more. Maybe that’s why Fjerdans like to keep their women swimming in wool, she considered, slipping inside the building Hanne had marked on her map of the sector. So they can’t get away too fast.