She peered over her shoulder. A group of elves in black armor and deep red cloaks stepped out of the train. The sigil of a red maple leaf marked their shields.
Red Highland soldiers.
CHAPTER 22
Zev
Zev wasn’t fond of crowds. It was difficult to focus on one of his senses when there was so much commotion around him. The faint drone of magic, the clack of movement, and the roar of voices swarmed his ears in a constant hum. He tensed every time someone orsomethingbrushed against his skin. His sensitive sight struggled to adjust to the colorful streets and the writhing crowd. Then there was the smell. Strange new scents swung from pleasant to unpleasant on a pendulum. His nose twitched at the lingering scent of bitter herbs. It was beginning to give him a headache.
The quietness of Skelling Rising had been a gift.
Dyna normally enjoyed discovering new places, but she didn’t seem to enjoy the trip through the market either. She walked silently beside him, not bothering to browse the merchant stalls or shop for the provisions they needed.
Her gaze was fixed on the east.
But he had already guessed why she chose to accompany him. There was no time to explore when the only thing on her mind was how to enact her plan to find Tarn.
Zev had overheard the last of Dyna’s conversation with Lucenna that morning, and he worried.
Because he had wondered the same.
Was this all to prove she didn’t need Cassiel? Or was her recklessness need to spite him? The questions made him feel guilty, so he decided not to questionher anymore.
As Zev paid a merchant for a sack of potatoes, he told her, “I am finished here, unless you would like to visit any of the shops?”
Dyna shook her head.
He asked the merchant where he could find a blacksmith and was pointed in another direction. They eventually reached the smithy street. Bright fires glowed from the forges. The familiar beat of hammers and billows of steam greeted him, heating the air.
It stirred a bit of nostalgia, reminding him of the beginning of their journey. He inhaled a breath and halted in the middle of the busy street.
“What is it?” Dyna asked quietly. She reached for her sword’s hilt, studying their surroundings.
“That scent...” Zev’s wolf stirred inside of him as he sniffed the air. His eyes widened. “It’s her.”
“Who?”
“Lara…”
It was faint, but enough for him to identify it, or maybe because the memory of her scent was still so potent in his mind.
Zev eagerly followed the trail until it brought him to a forge further down the street. The scruffy blacksmith there beat his large hammer over a plate of metal.
He paused, sensing Zev. His eyes flared blue with his wolf in acknowledgment. Setting down his tools, he studied Zev and smirked. “I have been waiting for you, pup.”
Zev frowned. He hadn’t been called pup in a while, nor did he recognize the Lycan. He never forgot a scent, and he certainly had not smelled the musk on this one before. But Lara’s scent was here, too.
It rose above all the others, so starkly out of place, like a flower in a barren field.
Zev glanced around, expecting to see her walk around the corner.
“She is not here.” The blacksmith wiped his dirty hands on a soot-stained rag. “Hold a moment. I have something for you.”
For him?
He soon returned and handed Zev a wrinkled envelope smudged with soot. “I was told to give this to a Lycan who fits your description.”
Zev stared down at the envelope a moment, his pulse stirring. He lifted the flap. The sweetest scent drifted to him from the folded page inside, and he knew what it was.
