Page 37 of The Wolf and Her Shadows

What if Vannaria’s ridiculous suggestion might be the answer I’ve been looking for?

Could we really do it? Kill my father? Would it be enough? Or would the prince continue hunting me down in his stead? So many questions. Yet, there’s only one way to find an answer to any of them.

“Just so that you’re aware, our friend is a goblin. And their daughter is a devilkin,” Aren mutters, pulling me from my thoughts as we walk down the town’s main road, mostly empty now that the sun has set.

Looking up at them, I tilt my head back and forth, doing my best to portray that I’m confused on why they’d need to “warn” me.

Seeming to understand, they nod. “We didn’t think you’d have an issue, just wanted to be sure. Not everyone is kind to–” Aren’s words abruptly cut off, their gaze darting from mine to the road ahead of us.

A moment later, a small group of men stagger across the street, laughing loudly and bumping into each other, clearly well into their cups. It takes considerable effort to keep from growling, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention. Slowing their steps, Aren gives the men time to pass before ducking down the same side street they’d just come from. After a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure that the drunkards aren’t watching us, I follow.

I’m aware of which building Aren is leading us to before we ever arrive, the aromas emitted from the vast array of baked goods becoming nearly overwhelming as we approach the small bakery. I lick my lips as I begin to salivate, eager to shift back to my human form so I can ask to sample a few of the sugary pastries. I don’t bother attempting to control my wagging tail either.

A bell chimes when Aren opens the door. Gesturing inside, they give me a crooked smile and whisper, “Go on in. I’ll be right back after I put the horses to bed for the night.”

My tail stills and a whine slips out of my throat before I can choke it down.

Kneeling in front of me, they reach out to gently cup the side of my face. “You’re safe here, I promise.”

I stare into their dark green eyes for a long moment, then step inside the bakery.

I’ll admit, the warmly lit interior is welcoming, and the delicious smells become downright distracting as I attempt to take in the space. An elderly goblin is leaning up against the counter, watching me with arms crossed and lips pursed. Muffled sounds drift down from upstairs as well, most likely the daughter Aren had mentioned.

Unsure what exactly I should do until their return, I plop down on my hunches in the middle of the room. My stomach growls and I have to continuously lick my lips to contain my drool before it can hit the floorboards. Our poor excuse for lunch does nothing to contain my current hunger.

The goblin barks out a loud laugh, the sound so sudden that it startles me, causing my hackles to raise and a low growl to rumble in my throat. My reaction only causes them to grin wider as they reach up and grab a hot roll off a still-steaming tray of them resting on the countertop.

“Guess ol’ Vann ain’t been feedin’ ye proper,” they say, tossing the roll toward me. “Don’t burn ye tongue, ey.” Snatching the offered food out of the air, I ignore the warning, barely even bothering with chewing as I all but inhale the buttery goodness. Shaking their head, they tsk. “We’ll fix ye up somethin’ more te eat when ye got hands te eat it with.”

I dip my head in a nod. Any attempts to keep my tail from wagging are for naught, the cursed thing quite obviously dragging back and forth across the floor. Annoyingly, its speed increases when my nose catches a whiff of familiar awful smelling boots, signaling Aren’s return even before the door opens. I glance over my shoulder at them, tongue lolling out of my mouth when I instinctually smile. Attempt to at least.

After making sure to secure the lock on the door, Aren’s gaze briefly meets mine before drifting to their goblin friend. “Is it alright if I take her upstairs? Just need a few moments of privacy and then we’ll come back down.” Their head tilts to the side. “Or well, Vannaria will.”

The goblin narrows their eyes. “On one condition.” When Aren sighs and nods, they open their wiry arms. “Ye gots te give me a hug first, Aren. Ain’t just Vann I been missin’ all dis time.”

Chuckling, Aren crosses the room and drops to their knees in front of the small baker, gently wrapping their arms around them. “Apologies, Slivo. I’ve missed you as well, old friend.”

Returning the embrace, Slivo huffs. “Ye better have. If I didn’t know better, I’d be askin’ Rayne fer one too. Ain’t no doubt de crazy bitch would try poking me with one o’ dem daggers I know she got hid all over though.”

“Aye. She would.” Aren nods, pulling away with a fond smile on their face. “She does send her regards, however.”

Slivo grunts, nodding towards the barely visible staircase in the corner of the room. “Off with ye then. Send Rosie down, tell ‘er I need ‘er help feedin’ the pup.” They turn to me, a teasing grin on their wrinkled face. “Poor thing’s lookin’ mighty scrawny.”

I narrow my eyes, lips curling into a faint snarl.

Aren laughs, climbing to their feet with a soft grunt. “Be careful, Slivo. I assure you, her bite is a lot worse than her bark.” They also turn to me, a soft smile tugging at the corners of their mouth. “Pay them no mind, you look just as lovely as a beast as you do a woman.” Their tan cheeks darken as they quickly head towards the stairs.

I follow, fully aware that I would be turning red as well, if my skin weren’t currently covered in thick black fur.

The journey up the staircase is a bit awkward and Aren has to help me more than once when I stumble, finding it much harder climbing steps with four legs than it is with two. It’s truly embarrassing how uncoordinated I currently am. At one point in my life, I used to be even more comfortable in this form than that of my human one.

Once we’ve reached the top, a red-skinned devil woman pokes her head out of a door to our left with a wide smile on her face. “Oh, perfect timing. Just finished putting on fresh bedding for ya.” She steps aside, sweeping a hand toward the room’s interior. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you, Rosaline.” Aren offers the woman a smile before brushing past her to enter the room. “Ah, and Slivo has requested your presence back downstairs.”

Rosaline rolls her eyes. “Of course they did.” After giving me a friendly smile, she begins heading down the stairs.

When I step into the room, Aren is in the process of pulling my clothes out of their seemingly-bottomless bag. Once they’re all piled neatly on the floor in front of me, they drape a dark blue cloak over my shoulders. I recognize it as the one Vannaria had purchased for me back in Drixton and memories from that night, of being held in the woman’s arms, flash through my mind while Aren does their best to cover me as much as possible.