Page 19

An ancient, weathered thing that had lost all glimmer of Melistra’s Grace.

Elarian frowned.

“Hello?”

The old woman slowly lifted one trembling hand as if reaching toward a long-lost lover. Elarian twitched. The sleeping pup beside her did not stir.

“Your name, Elder?”

If the woman opened her mouth to speak, Elarian could not tell. The mists had slowly begun to return, obscuring the woman until she was only a shadow. Elarian jolted upright and ran toward her, pulled by an undefinable need to assure herself the woman was real.

By the time she got to the hill, nothing remained but the faint aroma of moldering ruins.

Huffing, Elarian rubbed at her weary eyes. As she turned to return to the pup, Aela slowly appeared from the thick mists, eyes gleaming as fresh blood coursed from her maw down her chest. She dropped a massive heart nearly the size of Elarian’s head on the rocky ground. Suddenly aware of her hunger, the elf scooped it up, relishing the raw warmth flooding over her hands.

“Thank you,” she whispered to the wolf. “It is surely hunger and not another elf in this godless land.”

Flashing a wide smile at Aela, Elarian tore into the warm flesh with her teeth, chewing the tough muscle until the taste of iron seared itself into her mind.

It was so easy for the girl running with wolves to return to the rhythm of the pack, even as she tried to guard her heart. Each day with Aela became bittersweet—she knew their time in the Evermist had to be nearing its end.

The following morning, the gray began to thin. For the first time in weeks, the shadows possessed edges. Color returned here and there—flashes of green, brown, and blue as earth and sky returned.

Aela slowed beside her, then stopped.

It had been almost three hours—if her sense of time was still anything to trust—since the rest of the wolf pack had peeled away. They sang their goodbyes as they disappeared into the sea of mist and rime. We belong here, Elarian heard them say. Return to us one day, star-wolf.

Elarian had never been one for ceremonious goodbyes. She placed a soft kiss between Aela’s tufted ears, then stepped forward. As she took another step, sunlight struck her face like the flat side of a sword. She closed her eyes, relishing the warmth as she stumbled forward.

When she opened them again, the Evermist lay behind her like a living wall of gray. Endless hills of lush green filled the wide expanse before her, bordered by dim mountains far to the north. Trees taller than even Estarin formed a forest so thick that Elarian first mistook it for some fey monstrosity borne of earth and moss.

And far to the west, set against the setting sun, a tangle of black spires pierced the sky.

The Blooded Court.

Confronted with the sight after all this time set Elarian’s blood ablaze. Her fingers twitched, grasping for silver as if she could somehow will Lucan Valmere dead simply by standing there.

A cold, wet thing pressed against the back of her hand. Elarian glanced back to see Aela standing behind her, staring at Elarian as if asking for a command.

“No, Aela,” Elarian said with a sad smile. “I must go alone from here.”

The wolf took a step toward the castle.

“It is no place for you, my friend.” It is no place for anyone.

Blue eyes searched hers, then closed.

“Wait for me.”

Aela huffed.

“I will return, Aela. The wolves have been the only family I have ever known.” Elarian pointed toward the dark woods bordering the distant fortress. “There. A month, at most.”

Another quiet huff. Aela tilted her head to the side as if considering the offer, then sat on her haunches. Elarian pressed her forehead against Aela’s and traced her fingers over the thick blue stripes running the length of her snout.

“I’ll come back, and then we’ll disappear forever into the mists.” She prayed she wasn’t lying.

Turning, Elarian walked away.