I grimace back at her. “Or if I’d been training for this?”
The rich recruits all sport shiny-looking crampons on their boots and carry well-oiled coils of rope over a shoulder. Many of them sling deadly looking pickaxes back and forth, the tools clearly familiar in their hands, warming up their muscles for the climb ahead.
Thankfully, Lee knew enough to get me well kitted out. The equipment we found in Sturmfrost isn’t quite as nice as this stuff, but it seems significantly more sturdy than what the army is providing for everyone else.
There are a few clusters of crooked camp tables set up around the front of our gathering with some dingy-looking climbing gear for anyone who hasn’t brought the equipment they need. Everyone’s hanging back, though, so they must have been instructed not to grab anything yet.
I stoop to pull my own crampons out of my bag, tightening them on my boots one at a time before slinging my pack back over my shoulders. If the Bonded recruits have theirs on already, it must make sense to put them on now.
Watching around me out of the corner of my eye, I make a few adjustments to the straps of my bags, making sure the weight is distributed evenly.
Groups of recruits are hovering as close as they can get to the tables of equipment, trying to identify what to grab when the moment comes. Others squat to adjust their own gear, reshuffling things in their packs and chattering anxiously.
A loud horn sounds and everyone goes silent, looking around for the source—but it’s plain to see. At the base of the mountain are two Bonded riders astride their massive direwolves, towering above the crowd. One is a woman, and the other is…
The officer I saw back in the Central Market, the one who was dragging that deserter behind him. The dead-eyed psychotic killing machine.
He’s holding one of those cone-shaped voice amplifiers and is absolutely glowering down at the rest of us from astride his hulking black direwolf.
I’m able to get a better look at him, now that I’m not distracted by the way his direwolf is tearing a human being apart.
He’s somehow taller than I remembered and broad shouldered, with light brown skin and dark hair that is still surprisingly messy for someone so obviously controlled. He’s wearing riding leathers and fur, but even from a distance I can see the bulky muscles of his arms, strong enough that he could undoubtedly kill a man with his bare hands.
Probably has, too.
At that thought, my gaze is drawn again to the kill tattoos littering his hands and neck.
Yep, definitely a murderous monster.
His face is viciously beautiful, with thick eyebrows and full lips that are pulled into a sneer as he looks over the crowd. It’sunfair how all the Bonded are so… hot. Even assholes like this guy. He raises the amplifier to his mouth.
“Good morning. For those of you who don’t know me—” At this, his gaze trails over the ragged commoner side of the crowd. The disdain in his voice makes it clear what he thinks of anyone who doesn’t automatically know him. “I am Stark Therion, Alpha of the Daemos pack and one of the instructors during this year’s Bonding Trials.”
It’s clear that we’re supposed to have an impressed reaction to that, based on the excited titters that pass through the Bonded part of the crowd.
Good for you, I want to snark back at him, bristling at his imperious tone.And I’m the Queen of Shit Mountain.
He shifts on his wolf as he talks, his movements sharp, precise. “Being Bonded requires great sacrifice. The direwolves have lived in this range since before our history started. They’ve always been our allies, but before they choose to bond, they need proof that the human they’ve chosen is…worthy.”
His eyes sweep over the crowd. I get the sense that he himself is weighing our value and finding us distinctly unworthy.
“As is tradition, of course, any army recruit gets the chance to bond.” His tone nakedly betrays his disbelief that anyone but the Bonded progeny will be found worthy. “There are usually about a hundred wolves ready to bond and there are at least a thousand of you. And the wolves will choose from the first who make it to the peak. So. Don’t dawdle.”
He grins cruelly, exposing his teeth, looking as wolfish as the beast he sits astride.
“Do what you need to do to get to the top first.”
Someone from the Bonded family side of the clearing whoops, and a few guys around him snicker. Alessandra and I exchange a loaded look. This man is basically telling us to throw each other off the mountain on our way up.
Good thing she and I both plan to take the long way up, hopefully staying well out of the way of any conflict.
The crowd has begun murmuring, other common-born recruits clearly coming to the same conclusions Alessandra and I have. The man silences us with a shrill whistle, magnified tenfold by his amplifier.
“Everyonemust attempt the Ascent, as requested by the direwolves. Beta Egith,” he gestures to the woman on the wolf next to him, “and I will be here to ensure that you go up that mountain. Our wolves have been away from the front for days and are bored. It would be entertaining for them, and for us, to chase you. You do not want us to do that. You especially don’t want us to catch you.”
The threat is bone-chilling. We go up the mountain on our own or this living villain and his hell hound will hunt us down and probably kill us.
“Remember! The direwolves are not dumb beasts. They are dangerous, sentient beings and they deserve your utmost respect.”
