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“I’m glad you told me.” Ora nudged my shoulder with their own. “It feels good to claim who you are with two hands, doesn’t it?”

Another tear slid down my cheek. “Yes.”

Sadie stumbled in the back doorway, still sharpening a knife. “It’s colder than an ostekke’s co—” She looked up and spotted my tears, her brows furrowing in confusion.

“Stuck ’em with a pin,” Ora said, covering for me as they gathered the fabric from across the table. And I noted how easily they danced around the word “her”when addressing me,giving me the space and freedom to figure that part out still. “Sorry songbird,” they added with a wink.

I swiped at my tears with my sleeve, the way Ora addressed me making them fall heavier.

“It’s been a long day,” I mumbled. “I think I’m still hungover.”

“NowthatI understand,” Sadie said, collapsing into one of the couches.

The words I was afraid to whisper even into my own mind hung in the air now.

Ora picked up their sewing again, sitting beside me smiling to themself. Such a small quiet moment, and yet everything felt likeit was tearing apart and being put back together again. All the gray was now the brightest color, running faster than my Wolf through my mind. The peace I felt between the warring parts of myself just because they saw me. All of me. And they understood.

And with one simple word, merem, Ora mended a broken part of me, too.

I tossed and turned, unable to find sleep. I’d listened to Sadie and Navin stumbling back at a late hour from their date, the happy hushed voices telling me they’d had a good time. Finally, I relented. I dragged back the curtain to my bunk and climbed out, knowing where I was going before my feet even touched the floor.

At the far end of the wagon, I climbed the notched footholds in the cabinetry and peeked at the netting that hung close to the canvas ceiling. A stretch of translucent fabric filled a hole cut in the roof in a makeshift skylight. The netting bowed in the center, holding Grae.

He stared straight up at the roof inches above him. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“No,” I whispered, crawling onto the taut netting. My body dipped down toward Grae’s, our sides pressing together. “Is this where you’re sleeping?”

“I figured it would be better than the couches,” he murmured. “Night owls and early risers alike would want to use that space.”

“You could come bunk with me,” I said, and he turned his head to look at me.

His expression was soft, sleep taming his normally serious features. He nodded but didn’t reply, looking back at the starry sky through the window.

“Did you ever think we’d end up here?” I whispered.

“In a wagon filled with human musicians?”

I nudged him with my elbow and he looked at me again. “All the adventures you used to tell me... now we’re living one.”

“I hope to have many more adventures with you.” He swepthis hand up my arm, his fingers idly tracing my neck and lips. “All those years apart broke me, little fox.”

“I wish I could’ve been there for you.” I looked up into his sorrowful eyes. “I’m here now.”

“I still can’t believe it sometimes,” he murmured. “You’re here. You’re safe from him.”

I ached at those words. After knowing what happened to his mother, I no longer wondered why he was willing to go along with any of his father’s requests. I wrapped my hand around his waist and tucked my head into his shoulder. The warmth of his body tugged me toward sleep, the lull I’d struggled to find alone so easy to find wrapped in his arms.

Grae kissed the top of my head, his voice cracking as his arms tightened around me. “I was so afraid of loving you.”

I lifted my head, my mouth finding his in a soft, sleepy kiss. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.” I knew they were the words he so desperately needed to hear, and I meant them with every ounce of my being. My lips skimmed his stubbled cheek. “I’ve never felt stronger.”

I rested my head back on Grae’s shoulder as I thought about the conversation Ora and I had that day—of who I’d unearthed.

Merem. One little word had made everything open up—a calm, steady assurance washing over me. Every choice that had wavered suddenly felt clear. I didn’t need to lessen myself any longer. I wouldn’t make myself smaller in order to fit into the Wolf world. It was such a brand-new thought, and yet ancient, inevitable, my brain racing toward this change and slowly easing into it all at once.

I glanced up to find Grae’s eyes closed, his breathing slow and steady. He shifted me closer in his sleep, his smoky forest scent enveloping me. Another quiet moment would come, I promised myself, and when it did he would hear me and understand. I closed my eyes, forcing away the swirling nerves. For now, we both needed to rest with our mate by our sides.

Twenty-Nine