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There was no right answer.

For tonight, we would let them go. Enough blood had been spilt.

I helped Nell rise to his feet, and then I shifted. I loosed my hold on my own consciousness, letting Tavik completely take over. The skill had been brutal to learn as an adolescent, but now it was as effortless as breathing. Tavik sprang forward, and my awareness slid to the recesses of my mind. I was dimly aware of my body changing—the growing fur and claws, the elongated snout, the arched back as I sank onto all fours. My vision darkened as if I were looking through a small window. It was disorienting, but I had grown accustomed to it. Tavik had primary access to our senses now, and I was the bystander.

It was a relief, though. My injuries would heal much more quickly in this form. The Wolven magic within us gave us accelerated healing capabilities.

Tavik stretched his legs once before bounding forward, taking off through the forest.

“Is Nell behind us?” I asked.

“Yes,” Tavik replied without looking. I trusted his keen senses, knowing he would be able to hear Nell’s gait better than I could.

We headed deeper into the forest, our wolves following familiar paths. The trees became a blur around us, but I knew Tavik could see well in the darkness. Once we crossed the border to the Mage lands, we would be safe from the fae who were likely hunting us at this very moment. Even with my awareness muffled by Tavik’s control, I could already sense the tingling energy of my homeland ready to welcome me.

Three

THE WITCH

My steps were slow and careful as I made my way down the forest path, a narrow and winding dirt trail that led from our cabin to the village of Tollino. I glanced around the lush forest, clutching my satchel closer to my body. Aside from the distant chirping of birds and insects, the woods were quiet.

Until a twig snapped behind me.

I whirled around, heart pounding and eyes wide as I scanned the brush. Fear twisted in my gut as I waited, imagining all manner of vicious creatures lurking nearby. These woods marked the barrier between the fae lands and the Wolven lands.

What if it was a Wolven?

Several tense seconds passed, and then a squirrel skittered along the path. I let out a relieved exhale, pressing a hand to my chest to try to steady my pulse.

Just a squirrel. Not a Wolven. You’re fine, Cece.

My pace quickened, and I tugged the hood of my red riding cloak more securely around my head. The path spanned two miles, but walking on my own made it feel like an eternity. Gran used to come to the village with me, but lately she’d become so preoccupied with her spells that I made the trek on my own.

At long last, I reached the twisted oak tree I used as a landmark to reach the village. The tree was gnarled and knotted, its trunk and branches bowed from a great storm several years ago. It curved to the left, almost as if it was pointing toward the village.

The path came to an end, and I ducked through bushes and dodged roots, making my way toward the oak tree. A babble of voices reached my ears, and knots formed in my stomach. I nervously fiddled with a loose thread from my cloak, trying to steady my breathing. Sometimes, I was secluded in that cabin for so long that it was easy to forget about the outside world.

But the outside world was not kind to witches.

Between the trees, I could make out the shops of the small village, and the shadows of people milling about. I slid behind a building so no one would notice me emerging from the forest like some feral creature. My braid had come free, so I quickly tucked it back into my hood. In this area, most fae had dark hair, so mine often drew unwanted attention.

After a few deep breaths, I rounded the corner and inserted myself into the crowd of villagers meandering the streets. Midday was busiest in Tollino, as that was when the merchants and peddlers brought out their wares. Beyond the village, the massive Alavern Lake stretched for miles, its waters glistening as they reflected the sunlight.

My red cloak allowed me to blend in perfectly with the crowd. Bloodroot was a commodity in Tollino, and weavers often used it to dye fabric red. Cloaks, dresses, and coats of varying shades of crimson caught my eye as I maneuvered through the crowd.

My eyes flitted about so quickly it felt like my head was spinning as I tried to take in everything at once. One villager was shouting about his freshly caught bass, and the fishy smell from his booth wafted around me. Another vendor was displaying her hand-made jewelry, the gemstones gleaming as they caught the light. I glanced from hand-woven rugs to mouth-watering pastries to an assortment of melons to smoked meat. The sounds, sights, and smells were almost too much for me.

I paused for a moment, slipping out of the crowd to lean against the pillars of a fabric shop as I caught my breath. My eyes closed, and I swallowed hard, trying to block out the cacophony around me. My brow furrowed as I counted to ten, searching inward for that familiar stir of magic inside me. There it was, flickering to life, always at the ready. It grounded me, steadying me when I felt like I was floating away.

“Witch,” hissed a voice nearby.

My eyes flew open. An older female stomped past me, her nose wrinkling as she shot me a look of pure loathing. Beside her, two others were whispering to one another, their curious eyes fixed on me.

My mouth went dry as I inserted myself back into the crowd, striding away from the gossiping fae. But it seemed I could not outrun their murmurings.

“She dabbled in dark magic,” said one.

“Have you seen her grandmother? She has a sickly smell about her.”