I exhale, shaking off the thought. They have each other. And unless they mess with Marigold, there should be no danger there.
I checked in with my father the moment I arrived in Coppershire. Unsurprisingly, his reports are unchanged. Thegoblins keep pushing harder, raiding our harvests, burning our villages. Our lands have become a battlefield we’re losing ground on.
Even with that, Dom and Billy are still leading units to support the Summer Realm. With shipments to cities around the realm that relied on Hadria for trade, supplies to rebuild what’s been lost, our people are doing what we’ve always done. Summer and Autumn look out for one another.Through every season and every storm.
When I saw Father earlier, he looked…old. Too old. Like he’s aged a century in a few months. His boisterous laugh has disappeared, and there’s no inkling of his usual humor. He’s a different man altogether. I know his shoulders carry the weight of this growing threat, of our people’s survival. But worse than that, he carries grief. Grief for my mother.
A sharp pang cuts through my chest, and I grit my teeth against it. I don’t want to think about her—not now. But the image rises unbidden anyway: her lifeless body, cold and broken, her fierce heart stilled forever. Because of him. Because ofPerth Quellos.
The name burns in my mind like poison. I couldn’t stop him then. I couldn’t protect her. And he still lives. The former vizier of Winter still breathes, hiding somewhere down Below. Heat flares in my chest. Nothing like that caneverhappen again. I’ll make sure of it.
I force myself to breathe, letting the air cool the fire in my veins as I head toward our sacred alder tree. There, grazing at its base, I see him. Thrand. My old friend. His great antlers curve like branches against the golden light, and the tension in my chest loosens.
Though I’d make better time out to the briars as my wolf, I crave his company, the reassuring cadence of his breath. A ride through the realmlands will quench this…uneasiness.
I watch as he moves with that familiar, unshakable grace, his coat catching the sunlight as if it’s been dusted with gold. He has always remained steady, a constant in a life when so much has been lost. For a moment, I let myself believe that consistency hasn’t changed.
I step toward him. “Thrand.”
He lifts his head and meets my gaze, those deep brown eyes finding mine. His whole body stills. Then he takes a step back.
I keep walking his way. Thrand’s ears twitch, and his head tilts, as if weighing my presence. There’s a wariness in his stance, subtle but unmistakable, the kind I’ve seen in him only when predators are near. My brow furrows, and I look behind me. I don’t see anything.
“It’s just me,” I say, taking another step closer. “What’s wrong?”
He doesn’t move, but his muscles are taut, his hooves planted in the soil. The golden leaves swirl around us with a gust of wind, and he exhales sharply, his breath fogging.
“What’s going on?” I murmur, forcing calm into my voice. “It’s me.”
He shifts his weight, his massive frame trembling, nostrils flaring. I take another step. Is there someone else with us, something I can’t see? But his eyes don’t dart around. They’re focused wholly on…
Me.
“No,” I mutter under my breath. “Why would you…”
Thrand’s ears pin against his skull, and he gives a low, uneasy whine. Why is he so afraid?
“Thrand.” My voice is louder this time, sharper. “Stop this. Whatever’s gotten into you—stop.”
I reach out a hand. Thrand jerks back, his wide, terrified eyes never leaving mine. He lets out a sharp, piercing squeal—a sound so full of panic and fear that it freezes me in place. I’veheard him cry out like this only once before: the moment right before Quellos’s wraiths froze him.
“Thrand!” I shout, but it doesn’t matter. He backs away farther, his massive antlers tilting down as if to ward me off. “Why are you doing this?” I demand, my voice raw now. “It’sme. I’ve never hurt you. I would never hurt you.”
But he doesn’t believe me. He snorts and, with one last anguished sound, turns and bolts, his hooves kicking up a whirlwind of golden leaves as he disappears into the surrounding forest.
I stand there, frozen, staring at the space where he once stood. My hands curl into fists, and heat rises in my chest, burning against the sharp ache spreading through my ribs. He’s never run from me. Never.
“What’s wrong with you?” I call, but the words feel hollow. Something cold and ugly presses at the edges of my thoughts, but I shove it down, locking it away where it can’t touch me. Where it can’t be true.
The wind picks up again, and the grove feels emptier than it ever has. My breath comes fast, sharp. Heat ignites under my skin, and with a guttural growl, I let it consume me. My body shifts, the familiar ache of transformation ripping through me like wildfire. Bones crack and elongate, muscles stretch and coil, and when the fire subsides, I stand tall on four massive paws, flames licking at my fur.
The fire around me blazes an inferno of red and orange, the flames forming the shape of maple leaves with each flick. It dances at my paws, streaking the earth with ash as I tear through the forest grove, in the opposite direction of Thrand.
The trees blur past me, leaves blending into streaks of copper and gold. The ground beneath me trembles with each step, but I don’t stop. I can’t. Why would he run from me? It doesn’t make sense. The pain of Thrand’s fear, my mother’s death, my father’sgrief, leaving Rosalina and Dayton—it all crashes against me like waves, and I have nowhere to put it. So I run. Faster. Harder.
I bolt out of the city and into the field. The Autumn realmlands are a blur around me; I can’t put enough distance between me and Coppershire. The briars. I have to go patrol the borders. Why bother with Thrand?
I have everything I need.
