Page 73 of The Lure of Wolves and Whispers

There’s no softness in him now. Not even a trace of what’s transpired, as if the whole thing was just in my head. Just the same hard, guarded mask he wore that first night in the safe house.

Old Ones, I’m a fool.

I’m a means to an end for Wolf—a pretty distraction to dangle in front of the prince while the Whisperers plot behind his back and clear his path to the throne.

“Yeah.” I sidestep out from between the wall and Wolf. “We’redone.”

Just as I’m almost out of his reach, one hand catches my wrist.

Wolf’s lip catches at the edge of his teeth, brows caught in adeep furrow. He searches my face, cocking his head like he’s trying to work out a riddle.

The temple’s chilled air steals the heat from my cheeks, and I shake him off, meeting Talon’s too-observant gaze. Their stare holds too many questions, so I ignore it.

“Take me back,” I whisper, and I don’t care if Wolf hears.

EIGHTEEN

I know where the noble daughters train.

I shouldn’t, but I do—thanks to Aoife.

Irritation from the temple still needles at me. And even though I should stay inside and not risk any danger before the Test of Wisdom tomorrow, my muscles vibrate with tension.

I need to get outside.

I need to see what I’m up against.

The path Aoife told me about twines past the back of the rose gardens—or what’s left of them. The prince wasn’t lying; every last one of them has been ripped out of the earth, though there are tiny, crumpled patches of white petals browning in the mist-slick grass.

A clear message, or else he’s as mad as his father.

The problem is, I can’t begin to figure out what the message is.

Weak golden light cuts thin shafts through the mist, brightening the flash of steel from the training yard tucked behind the old garden.

I watch from a distance at first, behind a thick pile of ruined vines.

Grass makes my approach almost silent.

The noble daughters here wield steel in a blur of grace andpower. My stomach curls at the sight of them. All of them wear training leathers, pierced through with pinholes in intricate patterns that let air through and detail flowers and fauna that must be native to their estates.

Dark-haired Oona mock battles with Aisling, the daughter of the Sea Snake on the eastern peninsula. She’s the same one who flipped a much larger man over her at the Test of Cunning—and who tried to poison me at the dinner just days ago.

Loathing rushes up my throat, but I force myself to focus on her technique. To observe every muscle tremor, every slow bit of footwork.

Every blow Oona deals is an assault. She’s pure grace—and power. Even Finn doesn’t move like her.

Could I hope to beat her, if it came to blows?

Aisling stumbles, and Oona seizes the opportunity.

She brings the sword hurtling down for the other girl’s throat—then stops an inch from her skin. As if they aren’t all going to kill each other eventually anyway.

But apparently, they give each other the dignity of not killing their kind outside the tests, at least for now.

If they came across me alone at any point, none of them would hesitate. I count them in my head—Oona, obviously. Aisling. Neve was the one who wove the crown of white roses, then threw a knife at my head.

AndEavan.