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She lifted the lamp and turned to me, her face lit with the warmth of the flame, yet there was no warmth in the look she gave me then.

“You told me you’d let me go,” she said, angry.

Shrugging, I said, “I lied.”

A fire stoked behind her eyes, and I knew I was in for a hell of a fight. I smiled. She was alive and well, I’d kissed her and she’d kissed me back, and now I’d get the pleasure of verbally sparring with her. This day couldn't get any better.

I was ready.

“You have to leave,” she said.

“I think I’ll stay.”

“You don’t get to stay.”

“No? Will the others mind?” I saw her jaw tighten. “You said you weren’t alone.” I made a show of looking around. “Do they not like visitors?”

Her voice was low when she said, “They most certainly do not.”

“It’s time to stop lying.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I won’t leave until I have the truth.”

Only I’d never get to hear her response, because as soon as she opened her mouth, a howl sounded in the distance. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I heard the response, maybe half a dozen more on the night wind, surrounding us.

I snatched up the discarded axe and gripped it close, my heart picking up in my chest. But when I looked at Fen, expecting to see a mirror to my concern, I was instead met with hot contempt. She glared at me, then marched back to the open doorway. Grabbing hold of a woven barrier leaning up against the wall, she hauled it over to cover the space, then dropped a birch into two cradles set on either side, barricading the thing shut.

“You’re an idiot,” she told me, “and you ruin everything.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Fenli

I’d have given up my right arm if it’d meant I could be rid of him, but Roan would not let it be that easy. Now I was left with two choices: tell him the truth about the wolves… or kill him while he slept.

I looked down at him where he lay. No bedroll or blanket. Just his bag propped under his head and his hands tucked under his arms. Peaceful. Vulnerable. Ripe for the murdering.

I heaved a sigh and kicked his boot.

“Wh-what,” he stammered, pushing up on his palms and blinking at the space around him. He met my eyes for a moment before shaking his head briskly in an effort to wake up. He took a deep breath and pulled himself into a sitting position, raking his hands through his mop of blond hair. He looked out the door, which I’d opened, and into the dusk of early morning. “What the hell are you waking me up for?”

“The truth,” I said, grabbing my small bag and tossing it over my shoulder. “If you want it, you’d better keep up.”

He reached for the axe.

“No.” His gaze slid up to meet mine, his hand on the handle. “Leave your metal behind. No axe, no knives.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because I’m not talking otherwise.”

I thought maybe that would be it right there. He’d refuse, I’d refuse, and he’d give up and leave. But he’d heard the wolves last night, I reminded myself. He could tell the others and come back for them. I had to show him.

I decided to soften. “Trust me,” I said. I patted the battle sword on my hip.

With his eyes still on the sword, his mouth set in a grim line, he dropped the axe. Then he pulled the small blade from his boot and another from his belt, tossing them to the floor as well. Satisfied, I turned, ducking under the doorway and heading north towards the den. He scrambled to catch up, then fell into a steady pace at my heels. I felt crazy, leading him straight to my secret. But there was something else there as well. Something I couldn’t unpack, something pressing up on my chest. I tried to ignore it.

When we got to the old cedar, I had a quick look around. It was the early shreds of dawn, but I could see enough to know that the wolves hadn’t made it back yet.

That was lucky.