CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
SOFIA
Sofia didn’t let her mind wander back to the clearing where she’d left Fox. She didn’t think about what he tasted like or the feel of his body pressed against hers. She didn’t wonder what they’d be doing right now if she hadn’t had to leave. And she definitely wasn’t thinking about the way he’d casually talked about the future—their future—as if he believed they’d have one.
She didn’t let her thoughts stray from anything but the forest in front of her and the path she had to take. The night was cold, but at least between the trees, there was almost no wind. She kept her steps soft, but her pace fast. She stopped every few minutes to check the light breeze, keeping herself downwind from the camp, edging toward the south side.
Every few minutes, she sent a message to Chalia, letting her know she was safe. And Chalia, in turn, passed on the information to Fox.
Sofia heard the army long before she saw it, and she quickly understood that the precautions she was taking in keeping quiet weren’t necessary. Ten minutes later, she could make out the light of multiple fires through the foliage, thinner here than in the rainforest near the wall. The voices she had heard had clarified into singing and yells, slurred with drink.
They were celebrating.
Her lip curled. They would have just made it back after their raid of the dragons’ nesting grounds. She hoped they enjoyed their drinks now.
“I’ve made it,”she sent to Chalia, edging closer until she could make out faces and individual voices. The dragon’s mind was distant, but she still felt her perk up at the message.
“Be careful,”Chalia sent in a tone that had Sofia rolling her eyes.
“Tell Fox I’m fine. I’m not an idiot.”
“He says he has no doubt, but he doesn’t trust the king’s men.”
Sofia sent a nudge, pushing just enough against Chalia’s mind to tell her what she thought of Fox’s concerns.
She was still careful as she moved, despite the sound of the army easily drowning out any soft sounds her footsteps made. There were a few scouts perched against trees at intervals, staring out into the forest. But they were close to the light of the camp, enough that their night vision was probably terrible. She also noted that none of the scouts were wolfshifters. It would have been the smarter move to keep them on watch, but perhaps Harlow didn’t trust the creatures that far. The few times she stopped to study the soldiers sitting around the fires, she saw only humans.
Chalia had smelled the wolfshifters when they’d flown in, but Sofia didn’t see them anywhere. She moved along the perimeter, searching for them. She was supposed to be finding and signaling Ian, but if the wolfshifters weren’t here, they’d need to know where they were to be safe.
It wasn’t until she was nearly to the north side that she saw where the shifters were set up, circled around their own fires. They, too, were drinking, but there was a predatory anger in the air that didn’t quite permeate the humans. There was a small wall splitting the two camps—hardly the setup of allies.
Harlow didn’t trust them, and the wolfshifters clearly knew it, though she doubted the humans left on guard could do anything against the wolfshifters should they decide to change their mind on any truce they’d agreed on. She wondered what Harlow had promised them. It couldn’t be good.
Those were questions she didn’t have time for tonight. She reached out to Chalia, her heart giving a small tremble as she realized she couldn’t hear her. She pushed a bit farther, but only silence answered her. Guilt churned in her stomach.
She wasn’t sure who was going to kill her first—Fox or Chalia—for losing connection without noticing. She just needed to work faster and get back to them. Taking a moment to let her eyes adjust again to the darkness of the forest, she turned back, moving south again toward where the humans were camped—where Vato would be.
If he were watching over Fox’s mother, as Harlow had suggested, he would be stationed near where they were keeping the prisoners. She just needed to find where that was. Every tent looked the same: dark tan canvas stretched tightly over wooden stakes. She was just about to give up on her plan when she saw it. The tent was only a little larger than the rest, but it had two guards standing at attention outside. The flaps were tied open, and she could just make out the bars of a cage tucked inside the shadowy interior. Her father would be inside. Her heart ached, and she strained to get a better angle, but the cage was tucked away—her father hidden from her.
Sending a prayer to the dragons, she found a tree with branches low enough to climb. She was careful, eyes searching out the scouts with every step. But the nearest one was looking off toward the left, more bored than concerned about his duty. When she was high enough, she stopped, taking a moment to hook her legs securely around the branch she rested on.
She still couldn’t look inside the prison tent, but she had already accepted she wouldn’t see her father tonight.
She waited.
It took only a few minutes to pick out Vato in the crowd, his face illuminated by the dancing fires he passed. There was something off about the way he was walking, and she realized as he took a swig from the bottle in his hand that he was well past drunk. She swallowed, unable to do more than watch him stumble over a tree root.
She had a small stash of fabric scraps tucked into her belt. With a deep breath, she stood, hoping that the sun cycles of balancing on theroots through the mangroves would come to her rescue. Her hip pressed against the trunk of the tree for balance as she tied the longest piece of fabric to the branch, making sure it was in eyeline of the prison tent. It was the same signal they’d used back in the day when she needed Vato—Ian—to come to the inn. Isadora would hang a scrap of fabric outside her window. Sofia just hoped he’d see it and know.
Just as she tightened the knot, she felt the branch bending under her, and she stumbled back, grabbing hold of the trunk for balance. The branch broke with an echoing snap and dropped to the ground just as she shifted her weight to the one next to it. She tipped precariously before catching herself.
The scout, half-asleep, shot up, spine straightening as he stepped forward, his eyes searching the tree she was in. His soft gold curls caught the firelight as his head swiveled back and forth. She swallowed her breath, pressing against the trunk as tightly as she could. The night suddenly felt quieter than it had a moment earlier, and her eyes found the scrap of fabric waving in the breeze. If the scout noticed it…
Her stomach twisted. She knew throwing up on the scout’s head would be a bad idea. With a light breath, she swallowed back the acid in her throat.
She needed to distract him. She needed him to look anywhere else. The only weapon she had was her dagger, but she couldn’t leave behind proof there had been another human here. Her eyes searched the branches until she found a large seedcone, heavy enough for what she needed. With a deep, slow breath, she reached out and grasped it. Slower than she thought possible, she used her fingers to bend the small piece that connected it to the branch until, with a soft sound, it snapped.
Below her, the scout was getting closer, his eyes moving between the ground and the branches. She was hidden among the leaves, but if he were to approach the base of the trunk and look up, there was little stopping him from seeing her.
