Astreonans really do like to wear things that flutter in the wind.
“What is he wearing?” Saela whispers to me.
I smirk. “He looks like he’s ready to dance with our enemies, not fight them.”
Saela giggles, but Anassa says, “Do not underestimate his capabilities.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble. “Do you at least have warmer clothes packed in your bags?” I ask them both. “If we’re going to be north near Nocturna, you’ll need plenty of layers.”
“Yes, Mother, don’t worry; we won’t catch a cold,” Lucien says, eyeing me sharply. He approaches us with long strides. He clearly expects to ride with me, then.
Anassa snaps at him, emitting a rumbling growl and a loud bark. Lucien recoils slightly and frowns at her.
“Anassa refuses to seat you,” I say, trying not to sound amused. “It’s nonnegotiable.”
Lucien’s frown deepens. “Fine.”
His blue eyes scan the courtyard. Just as he turns, Venna rides in to join us, moving smoothly with Skaia. Lucien’s lips curl up at the corners, and he glides the tip of his finger over them lightly.
“I’ll ride with her.”
My fingers dig into Anassa’s fur as he approaches Venna. She looks down at him and raises a brow. He stares at her like he wants her throat under his fangs, and it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Venna doesn’t bat an eye, though. She lets him mount, sighing as if she’s agreed to some mildly unpleasant chore.
Elias looks to Stark, reads his responding scowl accurately, and moves to ride with Noemi. “I promise I won’t stab you,” she tells him sweetly.
Saela and I share one last bone-crushing hug, and then I mount Anassa. As we turn to ride out of the castle grounds, I look back at my sister, growing smaller and smaller in the distance.
All my instincts yell at me to turn around, grab onto her, and not let her out of my sight.
“Her pack will take care of her,” Anassa says, and the words sink in like daggers.
“Butweare her pack,” I protest, heart aching.
“We are,” agrees Anassa.“But she also has a pack here. And where we are headed, we cannot keep her safe.”
Before we go through the gate to the city beyond, I see my father fold his arms around Saela. She leans back in his embrace.
I swivel to face forward once again, doing everything I can to ignore the voice repeating in my head:
She’s happy without you. She’s happy without you.
It takes us two days of hard riding at full direwolf speed to reach Bloomfang.
Lucien, despite constantly projecting the appearance of a spoiled king, travels well. He doesn’t complain about his lack of a feather bed and anyone to fill it. He drinks from the jarred blood Elias buys with only a slight grimace.
His self-obsessed comments grow tiring, but his presence keeps Elias in check. And, to my surprise, the company is more pleasant than we had on our ride into Astreona.
Stark and I are both sleeping poorly, though. My anxiety over what we’re doing—and the race to beat Killian—keeps my mind working at all hours. Stark spends his nights tossing and turning next to me, but when I press him about it, he shrugs it off. I have a lingering feeling that he’s still working through Siegrid’s death.
The landscape blurs around us as we move. It’s all withered desert and cracked dirt. And then, almost suddenly, the air grows heavier with humidity.
Life starts to return to the land, growing thicker and more vibrant.
By the time Bloomfang reveals itself to us, everything is once again lush and thriving. Anassa slows, and my breath catches.
The city is beautiful, with tall, pale buildings that from afar look like carved shells. It’s nestled in a lush green cove, with lots of roads winding around the modest mountain it’s tucked up against.
