That might mean something in terms of an actual escape plan — if we weren't walking away from the tower. Several forbidden curse words popped off in my head. I'd hoped there'd be another chance to reach the tower — maybe even bring Kirsty and a few of the other she-wolves with me.
But, at the moment, most of the Wölfennites seemed way more interested in chatting with the much taller male wolves surrounding them than trying to get the hell out of here.
Towards the back of the crowd, Fiona had a Sea Wolf on each side of her. One was tall and rail thin, the other slightly shorter and much broader. They both had their heads tilted down to hear the short and plump she-wolf better, and their melodic, amiable accents floated back to me as the three talked about scones, of all things.
Meanwhile, Kirsty giggled and bent down to stroke the backs of the two wolves walking beside her like protective pets. Frustration bubbled up inside me. Seriously, was I the only one here even mildly interested in forming an escape plan?
"Don't you worry. I've given our males strict instructions about letting the she-wolf choose if she goes into heat," Sea said beside me, mistaking the reason for my disconcerted look. "They're allowed to introduce themselves and make their hopeful pitch, but there won't be a repeat of what happened with Amanda. I know the way that played out upset you."
A thousand criticisms about his version of diplomacy sprang into my mind. But in the end, I found myself asking, "So, you're back to being Mr. Nice King? The wolf isn't in control?"
Instead of looking offended, Sea just threw me a crooked half-smile. "It's much easier for my human to run things when I can't smell your arousal, Mairinua."
A fresh wave of embarrassment flushed my cheeks as we came to the top of a rolling hill. But then I reset to insist, "Those were insane circumstances."
I gave him the excuse I'd been telling myself all week. "I'm pretty sure it had more to do with the effects of Amanda's heat smell than anything else."
Sea angled his head, his long rust-colored hair shifting under his crown as he arched an eyebrow at me. "Pretty sure?"
I cleared my throat — then abruptly decided to change the subject. “Are the Sea Wolves in control of their beasts, too? Like if you shifted, would I still be safe?”
“No, you would not be safe with my wolf.” Sea’s tone darkened. “I was not raised by the same parents as Wild. My wolf is… extremely unstable. I only voluntarily let him out for the full moon.”
I sensed there was more to that story than he was saying. But first, I had to ask, “Wait, aren’t you and Wild brothers?”
Sea shook his head. “No, save for the queen from the First Reaping, we have no ancestors in common.”
“Then why does Astrid call both of you her broth…?”
Once again, I trailed off before I could finish my thought.
Below us, in a grassy knoll, lay another village. Unlike the darling cottages, this one had large, sturdy round huts made from wooden poles driven into the ground in a circular pattern. The frames were interwoven with branches and topped with thatched roofs. This must be the wolf encampment Sea mentioned.
Whoa.
Outsiders who visited St. Ailbe often said it felt like going back in time. But as I took in the hut village with its communal fire pit surrounded by stone, it truly seemed like getting zapped into the far past. Back to a time before agriculture, when nomadic tribes either hunted or gathered their food.
This place was real. Something told me the huts were recent constructions, built by the Wild Wolves off an ancient blueprint without any help from the possibly artificial intelligence they called gods.
But it wasn't the seriously authentic village that had made me stop talking. It was the structurebehindthe Wild Wolf encampment.
Another tower stood in the distance beyond the collection of primitive huts.
Another tower.
My heart raced with renewed hope.
That meant another chance at escape.
Naomi
There wasanother tower standing a couple of kilometers east of the first escape tower!
Were these structures some sort of guidance system? Kilometer markers like the ones the province had staked into the road outside our village? Or perhaps an easy access system for the nomadic hunter-gatherer tribe of Wild Wolves?
If it was, and my sun calculations were correct, that meant this tower was much closer to the town I’d seen than the other one. Maybe just couple of kilometers away, judging by the distance we’d walked to get to the Wild Wolves encampment.
My heart raced with all the possibilities this might mean for my escape plans.
