‘Please, I don’t want to hurt you.’
Slowly, I lift my other hand, the one holding the dagger. I hold it out flat, like it’s not a threat. Am I being ridiculously stupid? Pretty sure the answer to that is yes. Would a wild wolf even recognise a dagger as a threat? I don’t know.
But as I bring it up to its line of vision, its pupils dilate. The black swallows the amber of its irises and its lip curls upwards. Not in a snarl, but in a whimper. It looks from me to the dagger again, twists, then edges away.
‘You’re scared of this? You don’t need to be. I just need to pass, that’s all. I just need to pass.’
Its whimpers grow louder and louder until the sound is almost a howl. The kind of howl that will attract other wolves.
‘Don’t do that.’ No matter how much I don’t want it to know I’m scared, I can’t stop the tremble in my voice. ‘Please don’t. Please. Please, I need you to be quiet!’
It’s not moving now. It’s cowering. But scared animals don’t cower for long. They attack. I don’t see what choice I have. Even if it doesn’t lunge for me, if it keeps making that noise, I’m going to have a lot more than one dire wolf to face. I raise the knife above my head.
‘Run!’ I scream, slamming my foot against the floor. My heart leaps up into my throat as the wolf turns and bolts.
Relief gusts from my lungs and I drop my hands onto my knees. I draw in a long breath, hoping it’ll steady the hammering behind my sternum, only for a cry to rise into the air to the left of me. The exact direction I just sent the wolf.
Fuck.
Have I just sent a scared, angry wolf in the direction of another Rettling? Sweat beads on the back of my neck. I have. I know I have. If they die, it will be my fault.Gods, don’t let it be Llin.The thought is enough to have me sprinting towards the sound.
My hair catches and tangles on branches but I keep running, ignoring the pain that sears my scalp. The screaming has stopped, but is it because the Rettling is safe or because they’re dead?
My legs are burning when I spot the amber eyes staring back at me. I open my mouth, ready to yell, hoping the same trick will work again, but before I get a chance there’s a flash of moonlight on metal and a silver blade rips through the wolf’s throat.
With a thud, the amber-eyed wolf falls to the ground, its eyes locking onto mine as the life leaves them.
An ache pulls through my chest, regret heavy in my gut. This is what I probably needed to survive, yet I hadn’t wanted to do it. And Gods, the look it gave me. The understanding. The knowing.
My feet are frozen to the ground, and I’m still staring at the slain beast when the thought strikes. Who the fuck killed it?
‘It’s dead,’ I whisper, fear evident in my timbre because I’m surely far too close to whoever slayed the wolf.
‘Course it’s fucking dead.’
I spin to my side, surprised to find Kyor standing there. And beside him, one blue eye and one green, both with white-ringed pupils, is Elska. Of course. If anyone is going to find a loophole to have their dire wolf in a trial with them, it would be him. I’m sure he’d just pass off her presence in the forest as coincidental. Coincidence my arse.
‘I believe you’ve met?’ Kyor says drily. ‘Albeit from a distance.’
He’s talking about the guards’ temple. How I spied on him from the outside. Yet before I can reply, I’m interrupted by his retching. He doubles over, using Elska to brace himself as he heaves.
‘You don’t look great,’ I say when he’s stopped. Guilt is roiling within me. As much as I hate to admit it, his training sessions have really helpedme and repaying him with a poisoning just feels like something one of the Rowell lot would do. Not me.
‘Thanks for that observation,’ he mutters.
He looks better than Zara did, but that’s not saying much.
‘You didn’t tell the others about her,’ he groans out between retches. ‘That I saw her.’
‘Zelle’s the one who brought her in, not you.’
He looks a little bitter. ‘Your silence is for the old man then. He sure knows how to pick his projects.’
How is it possible that his eyes are still this icily blue in the dark light? Though as I continue to stare, his eyelids fall closed and he lets out a long groan. Maybe he is as bad as Zara. He’s just better at hiding it. He stares at me and the guilt I’m trying to suppress surges again.
‘Solarium root.’ I clamp my mouth shut when I’ve spoken, like that’ll be enough to stop him asking questions, even though I know it won’t be.
‘What?’ He scowls at me.
