Page 7

Chapter

Seven

The days pass in fire and silence. Einar has been training me harder than ever, with blades clashing, bones bruising, and magic pushed until my vision swims. He doesn’t hold back anymore. Not since I showed him the shield. Not since I told him what my mother said in the dream.

He’s convinced it’s all related and she’s sending a clear message. Clear as mud, if you ask me. A full week of trying to find answers hasn’t yielded anything useful.

“Unused power is power wasted,” he says between slams of our hunter swords. “If you don’t shape it, someone else will.”

Words like those feel like they’re meant for more than combat. Sometimes he seems to speak as mysteriously as my mother in my dreams.

In the evenings, I pore over old hunter texts in my father’s library.

The collection was gathered by our ancestors, going back for centuries.

During the days, between exhausting training sessions, Harek and I often go to the city library in search of answers there.

At times, it feels like searching for a single dust mote in an abandoned building.

Every so often, we run into Vivvi in town. She always offers us warm greetings and says we’re more than welcome to stay with her anytime we need a break from Einar.

My father’s face always scrunches at the mention of her. There’s some kind of past there, but neither will speak of it.

Fae have grown accustomed to seeing us around town, and people often stop to speak with us, though there are some who keep their distance and stare with suspicion. Werewolves are typically seen as lower class fae, but nobody dares say anything to Harek when he’s living with two hunters.

Everyone is so focused on me being the first huntress that not one person has picked up on me being part werewolf. But fae gossip is the least of my concerns.

Something is coming. I feel it in my bones, in the shift of the wind, and in the quiet way Harek watches me when he thinks I’m not looking.

He can feel it too, though we don’t openly speak about it.

We don’t have to. We communicate more with the twitch of an eyebrow than most people could communicate with a thousand words.

Even the dragons are restless. Vash prowls the cliffs more than usual, and Sapphire huffs constant smoke in her sleep.

I haven’t returned to Skoro to check on my siblings. Not yet, though I don’t want to keep putting it off. Even though I spoke with Brynja and Runa, I want to talk with the others myself. It’s going to be challenging getting to all nine of them without being seen by Gunnar or any of his cronies.

However, I can’t wait much longer. Perhaps I’ll give it some more time to let things cool down. To let Leif cool down. He’s the one I most need to speak to. He’s also the one I’m least looking forward to dealing with, but there’s no avoiding it.

The longer I wait, the worse the unease grows. I can hardly sit still after my last training session of the day. Einar and Sapphire flew off so my father could take care of some evil he heard about in a town that would take a week to get to on horseback.

Harek watches me pace from behind a book. He sets it on his lap and cocks a brow. “Having fun?”

I glare at him.

“I was only trying to lighten the mood. Want to go into the woods? Maybe we’ll find that unicorn family again. That always calms your nerves.”

My muscles relax slightly at the mention of the unicorns. There’s something about their magic that helps ground me, even when I’m on edge.

Once we get outside Mirendel’s city gates, something large and black catches my attention.

“What’s Vash doing here?” Harek asks.

“Protecting us.” Whether it’s from actual danger or my frayed nerves is up for debate.

He stays on our tail as we weave our way in and out of the trees. The unicorns aren’t at the rainbow lake where they were the last time we saw them. Chances are, they sensed Vash long before we neared.

The woods are thick with dusk when we stop moving. The sky above us bleeds orange and blue.

Harek leans against a tree, arms crossed, watching the shadows shift between branches. “We’re due for a storm.”

“You feel it too?”

He nods. “In the air. In you.”

“Me?”

“I can’t explain it.”

For a moment, neither of us speaks. The woods hum with insects, singing birds, and the rustle of leaves. Harek’s silence is comforting.

I kneel by the stream’s edge, running my fingers through the cold current.

In a moment, everything changes. The forest quiets, and the air shifts.

My senses leap into high alert, and I shoot to my feet, heart slamming.

A howl sounds. It’s sharp. Wrong. Closer than it should be.

Too long, too human.

Harek’s hand is already on his blade. “That’s not wild.”

“No, it’s not. There’s another werewolf out here.” A terrifying realization hits me. “One that doesn’t rely on the moon to shift.”

One like me.

My palm glows orange. The wolf may be able to shift apart from the moon, but that’s where the differences end. This fae is a threat.

Harek’s gaze meets mine, and in a flash, we burst into a run. Branches rustle behind us as Vash follows.

We move as quickly as possible in human form. I’d shift, but Harek is limited to the days surrounding the full moon.

The howl echoes again—even closer now, cutting through the trees like a blade through butter.

My palm grows brighter, and my sword’s etchings light up. I should have brought my mother’s shield, but it’s too late for that now.

Instinct hums from my core. The woods feel heavier here, every root and leaf laced with tension.

Something is burned into the side of an ancient pine.

A crest. I stop, and Harek pulls up beside me.

I study the marred bark. At first glance, it looks like the hunter mark.

But it’s warped, with the edges twisted back on themselves and the lines bleeding out like veins. It pulses faintly in the fading light.

“Another totem.” Harek’s tone is grim.

“This one’s different. Personal.” I step closer.

Something crackles behind us. A low growl sounds.

A full energy ball forms in my palm. We’re on top of the other shifter. I spin around, keeping my hands behind me.

Leif steps from the trees. He isn’t fully shifted. His eyes glow amber in the dim, his teeth a little too sharp. His hands are human, but curled like claws. “Hello, sister.”

His tone sends a shiver through my spine, and I take a step forward, still hiding my palm. I won’t use the magic against my brother.

Harek blocks me from moving closer to Leif.

My throat tightens as I realize what his shift means. He’s killed. “What have you done?”

He shrugs, casual. “I stopped pretending.”

“Who did you kill?” My voice is higher than I want, giving away my stress.

He smiles without warmth. “Someone always dies.”

Harek steps forward, tense. “That isn’t what she asked.”

Leif’s gaze flicks to him. “Oh, goody. The trusty sidekick is here too.”

I take a step forward, ignoring the rising growl in Leif’s throat. “Why did you do it? Did you know about the werewolf curse, or are you just a murderer who found out the hard way?”

“Do you really care?” He taps his foot like he’s bored.

Bored.

Rage burns in my chest, but I keep it in check. “Of course I care, Leif. You’re my brother.”

“You’re more worried about sweet, little Runa and the others. You don’t care about me. Never have.”

“That isn’t true!”

Harek rests a hand on my arm.

I take a deep breath. “I’ve always cared about all of you. We’re family.”

“Always?” my brother sneers. “You’ve treated him more like family than any of us. Now I’ve figured out why.”

For a moment I think he’s going to talk about my feelings for Harek, but he goes in a different direction. “It’s the pack. You care more about them and all your fae connections.”

“What do you know about my fae connections?” The words fly out of my mouth before I can process them.

My brother smirks.

Harek squeezes my arm. “Eira?—”

I cut him off, my attention on Leif. “What do you know about me?”

“Enough.”

Everything takes on a red hue. Does he know about me being the Secret Keeper? About our mother holding that role before me? Or does he think it’s all about the hunter line only?

“The world’s already burning, Eira.” His voice drips like syrup. “And you lit the match. You think the fae will protect you? That he will protect you?” He jerks his chin toward Harek. “They’ll turn on you the moment you stop being useful.”

“Neither of us is turning on our family.”

“No?” Leif says. “You’re dragging them into a war they can’t win. And I won’t let you.”

His meaning sinks in, and my blood goes cold.

“You’d expose them as werewolves.”

“If I have to.” He shrugs. “Better they’re hated than dead.”

He starts to turn away.

“I won’t let you do this!”

Leif glances over his shoulder. “You’re not the only one who knows how to survive, Eira. Don’t forget who my father is or the damage he’s done. And he’s only human. Think of what I could do.”

He vanishes into the trees like a shadow returning to its master.