Page 47 of Direbound (The Wolves of Ruin #1)

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

T he Unity Trial is in three days, and I need to be sharp. But instead of training with my packmates to make sure my skills are as honed as possible, I’m sitting in my room pouring over an ancient book about queens and magic and history.

There’s a burning in me, like I need to figure this out. It’s a pull. An instinct. And if Stark and Anassa are going to continue their streak of uselessness, then it’s on me.

Briefly, I considered asking for Killian’s help. But what would he think of it, this book that offers a completely dissenting story to the narrative his family pushes? Would he want to look further into it, like I do? Or would he dismiss it out of hand?

Plus, Stark’s warning that I need to “be careful” with this book won’t leave my brain—even if he’s an asshole.

Thinking about him irritates me all over again. I’ve been blowing off Alpha training with that asshole since we argued two days ago.

I’m about to dive back into the book when a knock sounds at my door.

Whipping into panicky action, I shove the book under my blanket. “Yeah?”

“It’s me.” Izabel.

Pulling the door open, I welcome her in.

She drags her fingers through her dark hair as she enters and watches me shut the door.

“Hey,” I say, a little awkwardly. I’ve barely seen her since I returned from the front, aside from my mother’s funeral, and the acquisition of this book hasn’t helped things.

Izabel bites her lip, then says, “I just wanted to check on you. See if you’ve been alright, holed up on your own in here.”

It’s a jab at my open wounds. When I’m training or thinking about this stupid book, it’s easier to pretend like nothing’s changed. But when she outright asks me how I’ve been, I’m back at the Garden of Eternal Rest, watching my mother’s body disappear into the ground.

Numbness and grief settle over me, but I tell her the truth. “I’m in pieces. I still can’t believe she’s gone. Is that weak of me to admit, as your Alpha?”

The mother I knew as a child disappeared years ago, but the recent improvement in her condition had given me a foolish kind of hope. Maybe things would finally get better. Maybe Saela would return to a lucid mother, fully capable of taking care of her.

It’s like a bruise that won’t heal and I’ve been doing everything in my power to avoid looking too closely at it.

Izabel shakes her head. “I’d be more worried about you if you weren’t. But I just want to make sure you remember that the pack is here for you. We miss you. I miss you.”

Her eyes dart down to the engagement bracelet glittering on my wrist, and just as quickly, she looks away. I’m sure she’s been awfully curious about it over the past couple of days, but I haven’t been around for her to question me, and she’s mercifully been allowing me my space.

Still, I can’t keep this from her any longer. It isn’t right.

I hold my wrist out so she can see it properly—the wrought gold band, the shimmering black diamonds, the huge blood-red ruby at the center. “It’s an engagement bracelet. Killian proposed before the funeral, and I accepted.”

There’s a brief moment of shocked silence, then Izabel wrenches me closer and squeals . Shrieks like a little girl. It’s high and piercing and fucking wonderful. “I knew it!”

Then she gasps and stops her happy wiggling, pulling back from me.

“Wait, is it okay to be happy right now?”

“Yeah, Izabel. You can definitely be happy.” I need her happiness. It’s infectious and beautiful.

And she delivers. She starts hopping, seizes my wrist, and ogles the bracelet with cooing sounds of appreciation. “I’ve never seen anything like this, Meryn! This is ten times the bracelet my mother wears. Oh!” Her large eyes widen even more, if possible. “I just realized you’re going to be queen!”

Queen .

It sounds different, coming out of my friend’s mouth—like there’s truth to it, for the first time. The word sends a little shiver down my spine.

My face flushes. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“We’re going to have a Bonded queen! Wow. This calls for a celebration,” Izabel announces.

The thought of “celebrating” with the other Rawbonds is slightly nauseating. With the Unity Trial on the horizon, everyone is acting like it’s the end times and the situation in the common lounge has turned from a constant, sex-positive party to downright debauchery.

I’m honestly surprised I can’t hear the moaning from here.

Izabel must sense my immediate discomfort, because she doubles back. “Okay, not a celebration ,” she says. “How about a casual hang with a couple of friends?”

I exhale in relief. “That, I can do.”

Thirty minutes later, I’m stepping into the pleasant heat of the kitchens. The room is unfamiliar to me. I’ve heard that Rawbonds sometimes come in here to sneak food outside of mealtimes, but I’d never felt the inclination to visit it myself—it’s not like they skimp on food at our meals.

The kitchen is massive, with tall cabinets and counters, stone floors, and an arched hearth big enough to fit all five of us inside. There are metal racks over the heat meant for pots, as well as allotted corners near the flames for bread to rise. The air smells like the bundles of herbs hanging all around us, deliciously stinging spice, and the lingering warmth of the stew we had for dinner. The workspace is covered in neatly arranged ingredients.

The space is surprisingly empty of staff, which seems suspicious until I realize that Tomison is here. The man has the uncanny ability to convince people to do whatever he asks with just a smile. No doubt, he’s responsible for our privacy.

Nevah sits on the counter near him. Tomison says something to her, and she immediately reaches up to grab a hanging bundle of herbs and smacks him in the face with it.

“Not the face!” Tomison shouts, shielding himself with his arms. “Everyone loves the face!”

“That’s what you’d like to think,” Izabel quips as we walk up to them.

“Good to see you’ve emerged from hibernation,” Nevah says to me as I lean my hip against the counter she’s sitting on.

I raise a brow. “I saw you at training only a few hours ago.”

“That’s different,” Tomison says, clapping a hand on my shoulder.

“Pantry is full, Tomison,” Venna announces as she joins us with an armful of goods—eggs, butter, and a mixing bowl. “I didn’t find flour, though.”

Tomison pushes off of the counter. “I know where it is,” he tells us and disappears into the pantry.

Nevah slides down and grins, reaching past me for something. She produces a bottle of emberwine and pops it open using just her thumb. “Let’s get drunk,” she says, and Venna lets out a whoop .

Nevah pours cups for us all as Tomison reemerges, clutching a bag of flour. Izabel takes it from him, then points him to the eggs. “Your next task.”

I get the sudden feeling that she invited him tonight solely so she could tell him what to do.

“Since when were you in charge of me?” he protests with a little smirk.

“Since I’m making a cake for our mutual good friend,” she says and takes hold of his shoulders to shove him towards the counter. “Get cracking.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says and picks up the first egg.

“Our father always used to bake this cake when there was good news,” Izabel explains, turning to me. “I thought it would be perfect.”

It shouldn’t surprise me that perfectionist, best-in-class student Izabel also loves the precision of baking. “Thank you,” I say, touched by the effort.

“Unless there’s a particular cake your family always liked?” Venna offers.

Izabel points at her. “What she said. I could do that, instead.”

No one back in the Eastern Quarter would’ve ever had enough extra coin for all the eggs, butter, and sugar required to make a cake. But I don’t want to bring the mood down with poverty talk, so I say,“No. I’d love to try whatever’s special for your family.”

“You won’t regret it,” Venna says and nudges my arm.

“Wait, what are we celebrating?” Tomison asks, looking over his shoulder at us as he continues to crack eggs.

Izabel groans. “You are denser than the cake we’re making.”

“Rude,” Tomison says. “And how am I supposed to guess at something that no one’s told me?”

Nevah grabs my arm, lifting it up and shaking it so that the engagement bracelet catches the light.

“Whoa, Cooper!” Tomison exclaims, setting down the eggs and turning towards us. Then he catches my wrist and examines it. “You’re engaged?”

My face heats at the attention. I guess I’m going to have to get used to this, although I really hope the news will spread quickly and quietly. “It appears so,” I say.

He laughs and then grabs the cup of emberwine that Nevah had poured for him. “Well, I’ll drink to that!”

We all take a sip, but Nevah chugs her drink, then slams the empty cup down. She’s starting to refill it when Izabel says, “Not so fast, you need to work. You three—” She points to me, Venna and Nevah. “Go get supplies for frosting.”

Nevah and Tomison exchange beleaguered looks and Nevah grumbles, “She’s being bossier than Alpha Stark.”

Izabel clicks her tongue. “We’re on a schedule here, cake goes in the oven in five!”

I follow Nevah and Venna to the pantry but hang to the side while the two of them look for powdered sugar and flavorings. I have no idea what goes into a frosting, let alone where I’d find it.

When we reemerge from the pantry a few minutes later, Tomison and Izabel are playfully arguing.

“Sheesh, just fuck already,” Nevah says to me and Venna, slurring slightly. We watch Tomison lean too close to Izabel, who shoves him with a floury hand and a fake-looking frown.

“Ew,” Venna grumbles. “He’s like an annoying brother.”

“Not to her,” I tease into my cup.

Venna groans. “I don’t want to think about this. Nevah, distract me.”

“Thought you’d have plenty of distractions already, as the notorious Kryptos Killer ,” Nevah replies.

Venna immediately blushes. “Don’t call me that. It’s stupid.”

“Killer?” I ask.

“She’s been working her way through—” Nevah starts, but then Izabel turns around and waves a whisk at her.

“Venna just likes to have fun! Don’t bully her,” she says before winking at her twin.

Venna rolls her eyes. “I didn’t ask for a nickname.”

Izabel sets the whisk down. “Half of the Rawbonds loooove her,” Izabel teases, signing as she speaks. “More than half.”

“What happened to not bullying me?” Venna protests.

“We’re related. It’s my job.” She scowls at the rest of us and jabs a floury finger our way. “Neither of you get to, though. Yes, she’s a beautifully impressive slut, but she’s also?—”

“Hey!” Venna protests. “Besides, you two can hardly talk.”

Nevah holds up her hands. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m a one woman lady.”

“Oh, I am aware,” Venna says darkly. “Do you and Zadie get any sleep during your ‘sleepovers?’ Because I’ll tell you, you’re keeping the rest of us in Kryptos awake.”

Tomison turns quickly with an interested grin. “Tell me more about these sleepovers.”

Izabel grabs a handful of flour and throws it into his face. “Don’t be disgusting.”

He sputters and wipes the flour out of his eyes. “Why am I even here?”

“Because we need someone to fill the pan,” Izabel replies, sliding a greased cake pan over to him. Tomison groans but does what he’s told, and within a few minutes there’s a cake baking away in one of the designated shelves in the big hearth.

Izabel, Venna and Tomison start chatting about a bakery they all like back in the Bonded City, and I nudge Nevah with my hip.

“I’m glad to hear that you’re seeing someone. I know things were… hard… after the Ascent.”

Nevah nods and takes a huge sip of her emberwine. I don’t think she’s going to really respond to it, but then she says, quietly, “Collin. His name was Collin, the man I loved. It was na?ve of us, I guess, to believe we’d both make it though. We’d been together since we were sixteen. We always planned on Bonding together…”

Her voice trails off and I wrap an arm around her.

“Thank you,” she says, looking at me. Her eyes are dewy and she sniffs hard, trying to draw her mask of strength back on. “If you—all of you—hadn’t come to my side at the Purge Trial, I’m not sure what I would’ve done. I might’ve just let it happen, honestly. But seeing that there were other people who cared if I lived, even if I didn’t…”

I bite my lip, trying to hold back tears myself. I know exactly what she means; she’s describing the way I felt when Igor pulled me off the streets and started training me.

“No thanks necessary,” I say. Before I can say anything maudlin, Tomison clambers up onto the counter, standing on it.

“Alright!” he shouts. The emberwine is working fast because he wobbles slightly before righting himself.

“Don’t step in the flour, dumbass!” Izabel scolds.

“A toast!” he announces, lifting his cup. Venna and Nevah immediately lift their cups. Izabel rolls her eyes and follows suit. “To our future queen!”

My cheeks are instantly on fire. I wish it were just the wine, but this is embarrassing. “Please stop,” I beg.

“You’re right. My bad,” he corrects. “A toast to our future queen, should she survive the Unity Trials with her life intact!”

We break into messy laughter and drink. It shouldn’t be funny, but it really is. The weight that’s been on my shoulders lifts the drunker I get, the more laughter I hear, and the more times one of my friends tosses an arm over my shoulder or whispers to me with a conspiratorial smile.

We’re having so much fun that we all forget about the cake in the oven… until the smell hits us.

Venna’s eyes go wide and Izabel shrieks in despair. “I can’t believe I forgot to watch the clock! This is all your fault,” she says, pointing a finger at Tomison.

He tosses his hands in the air. “How is it my fault?”

“You were distracting me!” she shouts, grabbing kitchen gloves and yanking the cake pan out of its shelf on the hearth. Black smoke curls from the top as Izabel pulls the cake out.

It is a burned mess. Absolutely horrific, really. Its acrid smell floods the whole kitchen, and it causes another round of delirious laughter.

“My beautiful cake!” Izabel cries, wiping away her tears of laughter. “I swear, I’m actually good at this, Venna can attest.”

We salvage something edible from the middle of it, eat piles of cake rather than slices, and talk until the lateness of the hour starts to drag us toward exhaustion.

By the time we finish, Tomison and Izabel have to practically carry Nevah out of the kitchens, though neither of them is much better off.

“Meryn and I will clean up,” Venna offers. “You all go on ahead without us.” When they leave, she turns to me. “Good, I’ve been wanting to get you alone all night.”

The tone in her voice sobers me up instantly. “Do you have any news?”

She shakes her head. “Unfortunately not. I’ve been looking into what you asked for,” she tells me, and signs “castle” just in case the others might still be close enough to hear. I swallow and nod. “I haven’t found anything concrete yet.”

Disappointment pings through me, and I try to keep it off my face; after all, she’s doing a favor for me.

“I have a weird feeling, though,” Venna continues. “I’m sure there’s something I’m missing or that I haven’t found yet. Just out of reach.”

You have no idea , I want to say. If this book about the queens is real, there’s something very strange happening.

“Keep looking?” I ask gently. “I need to know if—” I sign “the king.” “—is up to something.”

Venna nods, and says, “I’m planning on it. I’ll keep you posted.”

I hope she’s able to work quickly. In a few days, the Trials will be over, and we’ll be sent to the front—those of us who aren’t dead, at least.

Our time is running out.