Page 74 of The Lure of Wolves and Whispers

I tap at my lip.

What am I going to do about Eavan?

She doesn’t use a sword. Instead, her weapon of choice is a small crossbow she aims again and again at a straw person at thefar edge of the training yard. Her aim is flawless. She hits the bull’s-eye in the middle of its chest every single time.

Despite the deal I heard Eavan agree to with Oona, if Aoife is right, it wasn’t done willingly. Her family despises the High Queen for not sending help to stop the burning harvests.

I guess she doesn’t realize who’s really behind the fires.

Neve swaps with Aisling, leaving the sandbags she lifts as weights to take up a battle spear that Oona throws into the sand at her feet.

“You ready this time?” Oona snaps at her.

“Like it matters if I sayno.”

Neve lunges, but it’s all brute force and no grace. Her foot-work is clumsy, and it takes Oona all of a second to spot the weakness and hook her boot behind the other girl’s ankle, shoving her back—hard.

Oof.

I hear the wind slam out of Neve from here. Her back smacks into the ground, and her chest seizes, gasping for air.

No one offers her a hand up. Aisling just laughs. And Oona… Oona looks at the girl lying on the ground like she’s easy prey.

“Even the peasant must be better than that,” Oona mocks the other noble daughter.

My blood races. But I refuse to be ashamed of where I come from—what I’ve survived, and what got me here.

Wait.I count the noble daughters in the training yard.

Oona, Aisling, Neve, Eavan.

But there are five of them left.

Saraid of Askeaton Abbey isn’t here.

Neve staggers up from the ground of the training yard, wheezing. Her cheeks burn red, and the spear she shoves at Oona’s feet misses. I file the note away for the future. She has shitty aim.

Neve grabs a small bag from the edge of the yard and waves off the servant waiting at the edge who tries to follow her. Exhilaration sings through my blood.

I can do this.

I can’t be afraid to get my hands bloody, if it’s for a greater good.

Not if I want the Whisperers to see me as someone worth letting into their ranks, if I survive this bargain. If I can find and kill the High King, and show them that I’m willing to fight for Eireann.

Hands shaking, I follow Neve through the shadowed path leading from the training yard back to the castle. She takes the long way around, like she prefers the quieter side doors to the main ones, and I suppose it’s no wonder. Her hair hangs in sweaty locks, the bright burn of lingering frustration keeping the color high up the length of her neck. Her clothes are soaked with sweat.

I match my footsteps to hers to cover the sound.

My pulse hammering, I draw the long blade that Wolf gave me, the perfect steel swirling in the moonlight.

One thin arm hooks around my waist and another clamps down over my mouth. A thin voice whispers: “Youreallydon’t want to do that.”

A voice like shards of honey—sweet, but sharp.

Her hand is cool, the very beginnings of calluses just starting to form behind her knuckles.

Aoife.