I press my lips together. I know that feeling all too well.
“You can travel with us,” I offer. “If you don’t want to be alone, that is.”
She smiles, and my intuition tells me that it’s genuine.
We decide to borrow—or rather, steal—horses from the Thermian stables so we won’t have to walk all the way back to the camp. Fox says that the wolves are already on their way back. “It’s a full moon. We usually run on full moons, anyway.”
“Do you have to go with them?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I’ll run alongside your horse on the way back.”
And that’s exactly what he does, except that he can’t exactly run right next to me. The horses are understandably wary of an enormous white wolf, so Fox stays back out of their eyeline, leaving me and Amora to ride more or less alone.
“I don’t know what to say to you,” I say after over an hour of uncomfortable silence. “My experience with meeting long lost family members hasn’t gone well so far.”
Amora laughs. “I admit, I don’t know what to say to you either. I feel like I learned a lot about you today, mostly from your bond mate, but it’s strange to think that we’ve never actually spoken.”
“I’m sure it will get easier.” I grin a little nervously. “At least, I hope it will, assuming we see each other again under better circumstances.”
“I’d very much hope that we will.”
“You could always come back to Vernallis with us,” I blurt out. “I know you said you were finished with castles, but it’s really more of a manor, and we do live with royals, but they’re nothing like Thorne or Silvia. It’s somewhat chaotic at times, with so many people around, but perhaps you’d like that after being alone for so long?”
She flashes a genuine grin. “That’s a very kind offer, and I think I may take you up on it.”
I blink in surprise. “Really?”
“Yes. I’d like to see Beatrix again, at the very least, but I don’t think I’ll join you straight away.”
“Oh, alright,” I respond, only the tiniest bit disappointed. “Then where do you plan to go?”
"I think I’d like to return to Solistine, first,” she says, eyes fixed on the horizon. “I want to return to my home village again. It’s strange, I used to think it was the worst place on the continent, but now that I’ve seen so much more of the world, I think it might not have been such a bad place to live after all.” Amora looks sideways at me, her dark eyes assessing. “You could come with me if you like?”
“To Solistine?”
She nods. “Have you ever been there?”
I shake my head. “No. I always wanted to. I always dreamed about seeing everything on the continent.”
“Then come,” she says simply. “It would be an adventure.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, and find myself glancing over my shoulder toward the enormous white wolf who is running along the edge of the forest, far enough away to avoid scaring the horses. His fur gleams silver in the moonlight, and when I look over, he turns his head and meets my gaze across the wide, snowy field.
I'm not sure where things stand between us. I think we’re…something. Or, I think we could be something, but I need to know for sure.
“Can I think about it?” I ask Amora.
“Of course,” she says immediately. “Would a day be long enough? I’d like to leave soon, but I can wait…”
“A day is plenty,” I say, even as my stomach twists with anxiety. “A day should be more than enough time to decide what I want.”
She smiles in a way that sends warmth flooding through my chest. “Whatever you decide, you and I have many years to get to know each other, and I intend to do that."
We ride back into the wolf camp expecting to find it deserted. Instead, dozens of soldiers mill about, some pacing or sharpening weapons; some huddled in tight circles, speaking silently; and still others who seem to be packing up their tents to leave.
The moment that Fox—now back in his usual form—strides into camp every single head snaps up. All eyes track his every movement. No one speaks, but the air crackles with expectation.
All afternoon I watch Fox being swarmed and pulled every which way, by every wolf who needs direction or reassurance. Three times I try to catch his eye across the crowd, and all three times someone steps between us with another urgent question. My throat tightens. I need to ask him about Vernallis, about us, about everything—but his gaze is never able to meet mine for longer than a second.
