Page 5 of The Lure of Wolves and Whispers

Just as another hand whirls me around into a sweaty mess of leather and auburn hair.

“Maeve!” Finn heaves me up with one arm, her other gripped tight around the hilt of her favorite sword, Macha—named after one of the Old Ones, the goddess of war. Shock twists her face into a mask, as if she’s the one in pain.

I must look as bad as I feel.

A wave of nausea rolls through me at the stink of blood, and I press a bruising hand to my mouth as my sister ducks down to grab my blade from the dead gardai’s side and slides it into the sheath at my hip.

Finn takes the brunt of my weight and looks behind me. “Come on, we’ve got to move,” she says.

When I look back, the man is gone.

Vanished, quicker than a whisper in the wind.

I squeeze my eyes shut and cling tighter to my sister.

I don’t want to see any of it. The blood. The death. The brutality. And with Finn I don’t have to.

I lock my eyes on the dirt under my boots just as a flash of steel slices into the edge of my vision. I hear the whistle of the sword before Finn’s sharp gasp, and her hands slam into my shoulders, shoving me back into a wall of hard stone. A crack rings through my skull at the impact, pain exploding as a sword slashes down right where I’d been a second ago.

Brilliant lights pop inside my head; even the roots of my teeth shriek. I see double, and the guard towering over us with his sword raising for another blow splits as my vision flickers.

Finn slashes her sword up, arcing it over her head with a roar and bringing it crashing down into the guard’s shoulder. He collapses, clawing at the vicious gash.

She heaves her blade from the guard’s flesh, wipes the steel on the fallen body behind her, and pulls me after her into the slums behind the market.

I almost think I see the snap of a black cloak along the rooftop just ahead.

I blink, and the shape vanishes just as Finn shakes her head and grins. “I see trouble’s finally foundyou.”

TWO

Rumor has it this whole city’s built on ruins from the days of the Old Ones.

I know how to find my way, but not nearly as well as Finn. She moves like these lanes are part of her. I can’t fight the urge to check over my shoulder every few steps.

“There’s no one following us.” Finn raises a brow, as if the very thought insults her.

“You can’t possibly know that,” I bite back, blood racing.

“Maeve Fallon.” My sister grins. “Is that doubt I hear in your voice?”

I grit my teeth. That might be relief swelling through me at the sight of her, but there’s a lick of agitation, too. “There’d be a lot less if you tell me where you’ve been.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She laughs, shaking her head. But a wince pulls at the edges of her lips, and one hand jerks toward her left side.

My stomach twists. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m not.” Finn slings her right arm over my shoulder. “Just a nick.”

Pain wraps around my skull, beating beneath my long dark hair, and I press a hand against the throb. “I’m serious, Finn. What’s going on? Where were you?”

She stops short, grabbing me by both shoulders and fixing her stormy gaze on mine.

“I’m only going to answer the first part of that, and then I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

I draw in a breath to argue. The tight lines around her eyes and the flash of emotion there kill the burgeoning fight in me. Finn is… scared.

And my sister isn’t scared of anything. So I nod.