"What doesn't matter?"

  This time I looked at her fully, but she'd set her jaw. "Nothing. You're right. It's a lot to take in."

  I must've missed the mark with my assessment.

  "When I was brought here, it took me a long time to trust Ryden. I wouldn't tell him shit for what I was thinking."

  I usually hadn't thought of much besides how much I wanted to kill Fenris, and the grief that had settled in my bones like a well-worn blanket.

  "When I finally spoke to him, it was like bleeding poison out of me. Made it easier to come to terms with things."

  I led Ayla into a courtyard in the middle of the garden, the waypoint for finding our way to the back door of the Palace.

  She paused, walking slowly as we passed a fountain with a statue of a wolf mounted on it. The white marble wolf had golden crescents inlaid in her fur.

  "You're different than I thought you'd be," Ayla said suddenly, like the words had just spilled out of her. She looked at me warily, maybe expecting me to snap.

  "How so?" I sat down on the edge of the fountain, trying to look as innocuous as possible.

  She perched several feet away. Success.

  Surprisingly, a little smile flickered over her full lips. "You were a complete asshole when we met."

  I ran a hand over my short hair. "Well...that's my job. I'm not an asshole all the time."

  Well, actually I was, but I had the feeling that Ayla was about as broken as I was on the inside.

  And the best remedy for that was someone who cared. A shoulder to cry on. An ear to hear your secrets and lock them inside.

  She sighed, reaching down and letting her fingers trail in the water. "Calian...if I were to see Ryden, would everyone in Lykos hate me?"

  I raised my eyebrows, sitting up. "That's not really the question I was expecting."

  Which was true. I was expecting more about taking off her shackle or leaving Lykos.

  A hint of disappointment rose in me.

  So I'd misread her openness and willingness to help me with my pack, misinterpreting kindness for interest...it was Ryden she was interested in.

  "There was a female Claw who didn't seem very happy about me being here," she admitted. "And it seems like people expect me to be like this Tyra..."

  "That was Sorana. There are very few female Claws. She and Tyra are both...ambitious." That was a nice way of putting it. Both had made no secret of their designs on Ryden. "And once everyone knows you, they'll see you're nothing like Tyra."

  Ayla flicked the water, sending droplets flying onto the edge of the fountain. Her dark hair had spilled forward, hiding her face.

  "But if I were to see Ryden, wouldn't that be proving that I'm exactly like Tyra?" she asked dryly.

  I stood up, not wanting to hear about how much she wanted Ryden anymore.

  I had no problems with finding willing, enthusiastic females, but finally, the one time I came across one I actually wanted to talk to...once again, I found myself in the Alpha's shadow.

  No matter what Ryden said, nobody wanted the asshole Second while the Alpha was on the menu.

  "No," I said shortly. "You've never met her, and never will. If you had, you'd understand everyone's feelings about her."

  I couldn't picture Ayla sneaking into someone's room and accosting them, or grabbing them after being told to keep her hands to herself.

  She was nothing like Tyra.

  Ayla looked up at me, the moonlight painting the edges of her face in silver. She got up and followed me through the garden, trailing behind me silently now.

  "I just want to understand what I'm up against," she finally said from somewhere behind my shoulder. "I feel like I'm expected to fill the shoes of someone I've never met. Like you said, things are different here than they are back in my valley."

  I slowed my steps, giving her time to catch up. She did so willingly.

  Maybe I hadn't hurt her feelings as much as I'd thought.

  "Don't look at it that way." I lifted a branch of briar roses and let her duck under. This part of the garden was completely overgrown, like going through a perfumed jungle, but at least she'd avoid other wolves. "Finding new Callers really is a reason for celebration around here. There's so few of your kind left. The Azurans were willing to put up with Tyra despite her personality because we needed her. You're going to be a breath of fresh air."

  Ayla, who was several feet ahead of me, gave me a quick smile over her shoulder. "Don't make me sound better than I am. It's going to take a while before I'm comfortable with your pack, and that's an even bigger standard to live up to."

  We finally broke through the foliage. The darkened back entrance to the Dawn Palace, half blocked by rubble, stood before us.

  Ayla looked up at me. "What happened to Tyra?"

  I didn't want to lie to her, but I had strict orders that were to be followed no matter what. "She died in a raid."

  She nodded, looking grave.

  To my relief, she didn't press for more.

  I unlocked the lunar runes on the back door, and the Guardians inside waited in wolf form, teeth flashing like knives.

  They took one look at me and backed down, letting us pass without any issues.

  Ayla looked everywhere as I led her to the stairs that would take us to the upper floors, memorizing the layout of the Palace. The conversation between us had died along with the mention of Tyra's supposed death.

  When we finally reached her quarters, Ayla wasted no time in hiding behind the screen that had been brought in for her privacy and changing out of the jewelry and ceremonial clothes.

  "Thanks for this," she called, draping the golden dress over the wood partitions, and I nodded stiffly.

  It had been Ryden's orders, not mine. Another point for the Alpha.

  Ayla stepped out, wearing a thin, white dress that barely came to her knees. The binding shackle was now the only jewelry she wore, and her thick hair had been tied in a braid that hung over her shoulder.

  I gritted my teeth, remembering the feel of her skin against my palms. So much of it was on display now, and I could only imagine what running my tongue over her would feel like...

  Ayla looked at the wide expanse of the bed, piled with the most luxurious bedding we had.

  "Do I have to stay here?" she asked. "Can I go to my pack?"

  I crossed my arms, leaning against the door. "You have to stay here. Alpha's orders. You'll want to be well rested for the Elder Caller's training in the morning, so it's best to stay away from the pups."

  She bit her lip again. That was her nervous tic, I'd quickly discovered. And she seemed to be nervous all the time here. "I'm not used to being alone. We always slept together in the communal hall, unless...only mated couples got their own houses."

  I had a feeling her pack's version of a 'house' was more like a bundle of sticks in the vague shape of a square, but I knew what she meant. "I'll stand guard outside the door until a Guardian takes over. You won't technically be alone."

  I reached for the handle, intending to leave before my thoughts about what was under that gown became even filthier.

  Ayla gave me an unreadable look, then blew out the candelabra and climbed into bed, pulling a heavy fur over herself.

  She curled into a tight ball under it.

  With only the moonlight to illuminate her, she looked so sad and lonely curled up by herself. Like a tiny iceberg floating in the massive sea of the bed.

  No family, no other wolves around.

  I hesitated, then let go of the handle.

  Ayla didn't stir as I peeled off my shirt. It was already too warm in here, and it had nothing to do with the sight of her smooth legs.

  I laid down on the far side of the bed, stealing a pillow and folding my arms behind it.

  I stared up at the ceiling, wondering if I'd lost my mind. I didn't even sleep in the same beds as the random females I sometimes hooked up with, always preferring to leave for the solitude of my own quarters.

  Several soft scuffles reached my ears, and Ayla scooted towards me inch by inch.

  She stopped when the tips of her fur blanket were a hands-breadth away from my body. I heard a deep sigh, then silence.

  Her breathing gave way to the quiet evenness of sleep.

  That same unfamiliar pang hit me in the chest. I'd once felt how she felt.

  Utterly alone in the world and cast adrift.

  I curled on my side, conforming to the shape of her under the fur, wrapped an arm around her, and closed my eyes.

  14

  Merikh

  For the first time, in what felt like years, there was someone new.

  I laid on the small cot the Azurans had provided me, my arms folded behind my head, staring up at the cool blue runes swirling on the ceiling of the prison with something like wonder.

  As far as I was concerned, wonder was an emotion reserved solely for children and the mentally decrepit, but it was really the only way to describe what I was feeling.

  Feeling. That in itself was a small fucking miracle.

  The lunar runes didn't burn my eyes as I watched them move. I turned my head and watched one crawl down the wall before sinking into the stone.

  "Look at this, Tiny," I called. "Check it out. I can look at them now."

  I let out a hoarse laugh. It'd been a long time since I laughed with any real feeling.

  Tiny said nothing.

  He was nothing but a construct built out of lunar power and the lake water, much like Fenris created his spies out of ash and blood. He was also not tiny in the slightest and didn't respond to much of anything.

  The transparent, glowing wolf sat in the corner of the room, only a few paces away from where the new Caller had stood. She hadn't seen it.

  I wondered why that was.

  The only time Tiny ever moved or made noise was when I made an active attempt to get through the bars of my cell.

  Basically, he was the worst social companion ever.

  I sighed and looked back at the runes. Tiny was no fun.

  Usually, I had to keep my eyes downcast just to avoid their blinding glare. Tears had streamed down my face relentlessly for the first month here, until my vision adjusted to the incessant light.

  For the first time, I could appreciate the shapes of the runes. Mine had once been like that.

  "It's because she touched me," I muttered. I held a hand to my face, my fingertips finding the corrupted runes.

  Fenris had burned out the moon's light and replaced it with pain. A pure void lay inside me where that light had once been.

  My runes weren't burning, scorching my skin like hot coals. How long had it been since I felt...nothing?

  It had started right after she touched me.

  "Is it because she's a Caller?" I wondered, sitting up in my cot. “Is her power different?”

  Tiny said nothing.

  "Yeah, really helpful. I appreciate that. But it makes no sense." I sat back against the wall, watching the runes slide down the walls like rain. "Tyra was a Caller, and I planted a seed inside her just fine."

  And oh, what a creature she had become.

  I laughed again, thinking of the chaos, how Calian had threatened to rip out my eyes if I didn't tell him what I'd done to her. "Now her outside matches her inside."

  Tiny just stared at the bars of the cell, ears perked forward in a semblance of attentiveness.

  I got up and strode to the bars, draping my arms over them.

  The lunar construct’s ear twitched, but he didn't move. How did the girl not see or hear the thing sitting in the corner?

  He was fucking enormous. Impossible to miss.

  I gave Tiny a sidelong glance as I touched my face again.

  The lack of pain. What a beautiful thing.

  All from touching her.

  I could almost picture her in my mind's eye, standing right there. Arms crossed over her chest, those ocean blue eyes first full of terror, then burgeoning curiosity.

  Then sympathy.

  "She thought she hid it." I pushed my hair back out of my eyes, staring directly at the door to freedom. This time my eyes watered a little—those runes were much more powerful than the ones on the cell. "But you can't hide from me."

  I blinked, and the tears slowly welled up again.

  The cool, pleasant feeling of nothingness was fading. The faintest burn had begun to settle in my forehead, digging into the meat of my brain like a slow-driving pickaxe I wouldn't be able to stop.

  I went back to my cot and laid down. Despite the returning pain, I could think clearly for once. "She smelled so good. Like...food. Vanilla. Do you like food, Tiny?"

  Tiny said nothing.

  “Well, I do.”

  When was the last time I had given a shit about a scent unless it was to track and kill whoever gave it off?

  But I didn't want to take a bite out of her. I wanted to...lick her, see if she tasted as good as she smelled.

  I raised my hand to my nose and sniffed, curious if I could catch even a hint of that smell, but it had gone along with her.

  "Stop judging me,” I told Tiny, who was staring in a completely different direction. “If you ever meet a lady wolf made out of moonbeams and bullshit, I guarantee you'll be embarrassing yourself, too."

  Then a spear of pain went through my skull, and a string of disembodied words came with it.

  Hunt him down.

  I braced my hands against my head and looked up at the runes on the ceiling. After a few moments, I had to cover my eyes, rubbing them hard.

  Too bright now. Everything she had given me was fading.

  The burn seared my skin, charred through me with relentless flames.

  Tear him apart.

  I rolled over, keeping my eyes slit against the brightness. The Azurans couldn't have thought of any worse torture than this. I'd take a dark, moldy cell any day over this endless light.

  "It hurts," I allowed myself to whisper.

  One acknowledgement. Any more than that, and you were a whiner. Any less, and the pain would consume you.

  Acknowledge it, come to terms with it, live with it.

  Fenris had taught me that himself.

  "I want to see her again. I want to feel nothing. Will you bring her back for me? I've been on my best behavior."

  Tiny said nothing.

  The voices from the past grew stronger with the pain.

  Eat him. Rip his guts out. Leave nothing but bones behind.

  I released a harsh breath, keeping my eyes shut tight. Little by little, the pain became easier to bear. The throbbing flames in my skull became background noise, and that I could deal with.

  I needed the Caller. I needed her numbing touch.

  Not Tyra. She had driven the pickaxe deeper, her fingertips had never graced me with a moment of pure peace, where I could just be Merikh again.

  He's killed a thousand men and eaten their flesh.

  I'd never eaten human flesh. That was from years ago, nothing but rumors and lies.

  Merikh the Bloodfang. You know what to do.

  Fenris's voice was irresistible, pressing the commands into my brain and branding them there.

  I did know what to do.

  I was to take the Caller...and bring her back.

  Bring her to the place where the dark swallowed the light entirely.

  I cracked my eyes open and peered at Tiny. He stared back, unblinking, but he wasn't growling and pacing.

  Not the way he usually did when the pain brought out the dark side.

  A slow smile spread across my face. The light of the lunar runes above burned my lips, made them feel like I was nothing but dried-out flesh stretched over a skeleton.

  "You don't see me," I said, sitting up with an effort.

  Maybe the Caller's touch had done more than numb the pain. She'd inflicted the light of the moon on me; the runes didn't burn, but...could she have made me effectively invisible to Tiny?

  I peeled myself off the cot and made my way to the bars of the cell, my head bowed.

  This time, instead of just draping myself over them, I tried to wriggle an arm through. Worst case, my theory was incorrect, and Tiny would take my arm off.

  If he did, Fenris would just make me a new one.

  But the construct guardian did nothing. The wolf's head cocked, and those blind, milky eyes searched the cell bars as though something were disturbing him, but he didn't look directly at the fingers that were scraping over the floor or the shoulder I'd managed to thrust through.

  I laughed hoarsely. She'd rendered him blind to my presence, the light she'd given me obscuring the corruption.

  Foolish little Caller.

  Sweet, mistrusting Caller.

  She'd been right to be suspicious.

  I pulled my shoulder out of the bars. Escape wasn't that way; I didn't have enough of her touch left in me to make it through the bars and both doors without alerting Tiny, who would raise the alarms.

  But I could return to my original plan—the one I'd made upon imprisonment, before the old, withered Caller at the Alpha's beck and call had strengthened the runes on my cell.

  I pushed my cot out of the corner, revealing the deep gouge I'd made between the stones of the cell.

  This was a project I'd had to give up on once the old Caller placed new runes in here, but now they were manageably bright.

  I shifted, allowing myself to take the powerful form I'd missed so much. The cell felt cramped as my form grew bulky and powerful, and my legs longed to run, but I forced myself to focus on the task at hand.

  It hurt to dig at the stones with my paws, but as my claws began to tear chunks out of the wall, the gravel scattering underfoot, I knew this was a pain I could endure.

  As I worked, the voices grew louder again, swirling around me. I half-expected to see the female wolf from my memories sitting in the cell behind me, but I knew she wasn't there.

  You don't have to be what they make you, Merikh. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

  My paws were bloodied. Red gravel scattered on the floor.

  Kill the half-breed and his mother.

  Their voices drove me harder.

  15

  Ayla

 

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