“I’m pissed at all of you,” I said mildly before slipping on a pair of shoes that were more like waterproof socks than anything else. The clothes were nothing fancy; they were just meant to be comfortable and warm while we were in the outpost. “Let’s go find food. I’m starving.”
Not waiting for a response, I pushed the door open and waved at the two Velesians on guard duty, who nodded in return. With sunset approaching, the outpost was bustling with activity as people made their way in, putting a twenty-foot-thick perimeter fence between them and the wilds. The fence was made of tree trunks that had been double stacked and sharpened to points at the top, but what really made the wall secure was the ward.
The Fae had put wards around all of the strongholds, and a century ago, Drudonian scholars had figured out how they worked. That had changed everything because it’d allowed Moroi and Furies to create wards around outposts and ease the overcrowding in the castles.
Back then, tensions between the three groups of Moon Blessed hadn’t been nearly as bad, and both the Moroi and Furies had worked quickly to get the wards in place across all of Lunaria.
When we worked together, it was astounding what we could accomplish. I hoped we could get back there someday for all our sakes.
Even though we couldn’t see the wards, they created an invisible shield, not only around but above the outposts, to keep the wraiths and other flying creatures out. No other magic had been as game-changing for us as the wards.
Unless you asked Samara. Her answer would be indoor hot water as the most fantastic thing ever created by the Fae, which was also something we’d managed to add to the outposts, and I was very much looking forward to it after a long day of running.
I’d only been to Ravensfell once before. The only reason to stop at this outpost was if you were traveling from Narchis territory into Avala land. We’d stopped here when Cade and Ryker had come to collect me the first time, before I’d run off to the Moroi realm.
A few locals waved at me, but otherwise, they didn’t let their stares linger too long. Internally, I sighed. That was Ryker’s doing. He’d snarled at anyone who had looked at me for more than half a second last time we’d been here, and clearly, they remembered that.
On the plus side, it meant I didn’t really have to talk to anyone. I could just get some hot food and then curl up in bed. Most inns had a bookcase, so I could peruse their offerings and enjoy some peace and quiet while readi?—
“So, how are you going to entertain me this evening?” Bastian slipped his arm through mine and linked us at the elbows like we were parading through one of the fancy balls the Moroi loved to throw.
“Pretty sure you can find entertainment all on your own, Bastian,” I said wryly, because while the locals were keen to ignore me, more than a few of them were eying Bastian like he was a juicy steak.
“You’re not wrong.” He chuckled.
Ravensfell wasn’t a large outpost, consisting of maybe a dozen small packs, amounting to less than three hundred Velesians in total.
It was far more closely-knit compared to where I’d grown up in the heart of Narchis territory, which had close to fifty packs living in close proximity, all vying to move up the hierarchy. For the packs that resided in remote outposts like Ravensfell, survival was all that mattered. Velesian politics be damned.
It took us less than a minute to arrive at the tavern that doubled as an inn. The scent of roasted meats and vegetables swirled around me as soon as we entered. My mouth practically watered. I was a terrible cook, and so were the other Alphas, with the exception of Warrick. Since he wasn’t around much, most of the time, we ate dried meats, cheeses, and bread. If we wanted fresh meat, we shifted and hunted something down and ate it raw.
No dishes that way.
“You’re drooling.” Bastian snickered before tugging me over to a mostly empty table close to the bar.
A large fire crackled on one side of the room. People smiled at us, but everyone seemed preoccupied with eating. Given how good the food smelled, I didn’t blame them. No sooner had we sat down than a fair-haired woman approached us. I pegged her as a lycanthrope, based on her languid gait and other small clues that were hard to articulate but were second nature for any Velesian to spot.
“Venison stew.” She gave us a welcoming smile and set two bowls down, one in front of each of us. “We also have honey ale and a few bottles of wine left.”
“Wine,” I said quickly.
“Sure thing, Rynn.” She winked and took off towards the bar.
“Good memory,” I commented and dug into my stew, which was amazing, while trying to remember her name.
Gabriella? Estella? Asterella?
That last one wasn’t even a name. What the fuck was it? I’d met her the last time I’d been here and I was sure she had introduced herself, but I’d also been very out of it on account of facing the reality of joining the Alpha pack.
Bastian chuckled. “Elizabeth.”
“What?” I shot him a confused look while I continued to shovel food into my mouth.
“Her name is Elizabeth. She runs the tavern and is the Alpha of her pack.” He took a large bite of stew and closed his eyes in bliss. “Moons favor us, I hope Selene can cook,” he said after swallowing.
I grunted in agreement. “Remy said she’d like the kitchen, so there’s a chance better food is in your future.”
Bastian cracked one eye open. “You mean our future.”
