The Red Wolf (The Wolf Fey #2) (6 page)

The day they killed Grandfather, the Wolf King.

The pain was still fresh. Only weeks had passed since I had watched the life drain out of the man I loved more than anything in the world; I had woken up many nights since then in a cold sweat, hagridden by nightmares of that moment, of watching him die. And in all those nights, I had dreamed of what I would do when I finally met them again. When I finally had the opportunity for revenge.

Jacob and Paris stepped back, taking human form. A sign they wanted to talk, to halt the hostilities.

As much as my body ached for revenge – as much as I wanted to sink my teeth into their chests – I too stepped back and transformed. Grandfather wouldn't want me to behave dishonorably, I knew – and to avenge his death by treachery would be worse than not avenging it at all.

“What do you want, Jacob?” I snarled. “Paris?”

“Listen, we don't want more trouble. Just get out of here and we'll pretend we never saw you.” Jacob was avoiding my gaze. I could tell that he was ashamed of what he had done – he couldn't even look me in the eye.

“What are you doing here? Are you guarding Prince Kian's lodge, by any chance?”

“Just get out of here, Logan,” Paris muttered. “We don't want anything to do with you.”

I almost laughed with shock. “Don't want anything to do with
me
?” I cried. “How can you not want anything to do with me – when you've done so much already? You've slaughtered my grandfather, a man who cared for you, who watched out for you...”

“We did what had to be done,” said Jacob nervously, but it was clear he didn't believe what he was saying.

“You could have prevented it,” I shouted. “You could have stood up to Balthazar...”

“He's a very powerful man...there’s discord amongst the wolves.”

“You could have done the right thing. But you didn't.”

“Listen, Logan,” Paris took a threatening step forward. “There's two of us and one of you. And we don't want to have to kill you too. So why don't you run while you still can?”

“Not a chance,” I said, my heart pounding. “You killed our grandfather. The debt has not yet been settled. Until I've defeated you both, I will not rest...”

“Then prepare to die!” Paris snapped, transforming once more into his wolf form. Jacob too transformed, albeit after a moment of hesitation.

And then they pounced on me.

I snarled with pain as I felt Paris's teeth sink into my flesh. At first they seemed to have the advantage – two of them against one of me – and I wondered how I would ever manage to defeat them. Fur was flying everywhere; I kept sinking my teeth into lupine flesh, not even knowing where I was, not knowing which of them I was biting. Anger seeped into me – an anger that had boiled into a blinding hot rage. How dare these wolves look me in the face after killing Grandfather; how dare they live without shame?

No, Grandfather,
I said inwardly,
I will avenge you. I promise.

The pain was excruciating; I was bleeding profusely from my legs and underbelly. But as Paris reared up on his hind legs, snapping his teeth, ready to come in for the kill, I rolled over and dodged him. As I moved, I felt a force flooding through me, waves of anger and strength coming over me in turn.

In the heat and the blood, I thought I heard my grandfather's voice.

You are the stronger fighter, my child. You are the true warrior. Our Champion. Avenge me.

With a roar I felled both Jacob and Paris, biting into them one last time until they slumped, exhausted, before me: they morphed back into humans at my feet, bleeding and panting.

“Please,” Jacob cried. “Don't kill us! We surrender. We didn't mean to get involved in all of this...”

As I looked at Jacob's terrified, tear-stained face, I remembered that he was my cousin. He was family. How could I kill a member of my own family – especially one who pleaded for mercy? Although I wanted nothing more than to ram my sword into his chest, I resisted the impulse.

“Very well,” I said. “But you can live in Feyland no more. As the grandson of my grandfather, King of the Wolves, I lay claim now to my title – a title I have always held but have not truly earned until now. I am his heir and his avenger – the Wolf Prince. And as Wolf Prince I banish you from these lands. You must live out your days without magic in the Land Beyond the Crystal River.”

“We submit,” said Jacob in a small voice, and after a pause Paris followed.

“Do you swear a sacred oath, upon the most ancient magic, in the name of the most powerful Red Wolf, that you will leave Feyland tonight, and never return?”

They nodded sheepishly.

I took a deep breath. “Then I never want to see you again.”

I could look at them no longer. I morphed back into my wolf form and ran on into the night.

Chapter 7

A
s I progressed further down the path, a house at last came into view. It was exactly the house Breena had described to me – a snow and bramble-covered hunting lodge with an ornately carved wood edifice. Horns of slaughtered Minotaurs were hung outside the house from twine – perhaps, I thought grimly, to scare away potential intruders like me. But I wasn't afraid.  I was going to save Breena – the consequences be damned. I knew I was in deep, now. This was my last chance to run from this, to avoid getting sucked into the politics of the fairy war. Once I made a move against Kian, there was no going back. I'd end up in the middle between Winter and Summer – my wolves, too, would likely suffer the consequences. And yet I knew that I would rather risk death than let Breena fall into Kian's clutches.

Breena
. My heart started pounding faster as I approached the lodge. Could she really be there – just beyond the door? Her sweet, jasmine-like scent, her long silky hair, her shining eyes – I didn't realize how much I had missed them until just now. She was like oxygen, I thought; without her there was no breath, no life. Only darkness. I hungered for her as I had never hungered for anything before.

I heard the sound of footsteps, and quickly ran to hide in the bushes. No use going in, proverbial guns blazing. I had to play it smart. Locate Breena, create a distraction for Kian, separate them for just long enough to carry Breena to safety. First, though, I had to ascertain whether Kian had any more guards at the house. If Pan had alerted Kian to the fact that a Wolf was after Breena, he might have doubled up on reinforcements.

He had, it seemed, hired Jacob and Paris. I scowled at the thought. True Wolves didn't just follow the money, sniveling after fairy power. If they fought alongside Fey, they did so as equals, as my grandfather had done with the Duke, not as mere hired guns. But I couldn't expect power-hungry scoundrels like Jacob and Paris to know that. I glowered at the thought of them. Like Balthazar, they could easily be bought. They had no honor.

I'd waited a long time to get revenge on Grandfather's killers. I'd waited to avenge his name. But now that I had defeated two of the wolves involved in his assassination, I felt emptier than ever. Defeating Jacob and Paris hadn't brought Grandfather back – if anything, it had only made me realize the enormity of my loss. My anger briefly quelled, my thirst for revenge briefly quenched, I was left alone only with my sadness.

It had only just hit me how much I missed him.

And I still hadn't managed to track down Balthazar, my greatest enemy of all. But there was no time to think about Balthazar now. I had to focus on Breena.

And then I heard her voice. A loud sound – almost like a cry – coming from the yard behind the lodge. I morphed back to wolf form, treading as lightly as possible on the snow as possible. I couldn't risk being seen or heard before I was sure that Kian was acting alone.

Her voice nearly paralyzed me. It had only been four days since I had last seen her, but it felt like a lifetime. I ached to hear it again.

She cried out again, and I padded forth, peering out from behind a bush.

And then I saw her.

She wasn't crying out at all. She was laughing. She was sitting in the snow, having apparently fallen over, laughing as she tried in vain to get up, tripping and falling back down. The Prince was standing above her, offering her his hand.

“You'll get it next time,” he was saying softly.

“I tried to dodge,” Breena was sighing. “But this stupid rock, I didn't see it under all this snow.”

The Prince handed her what looked like a staff. “Try again,” he said. “This time I'll start from the left. Remember, it's all in the wrist.”

I looked up in shock. Breena didn't seem remotely terrified at all – indeed, she almost looked as if she
liked
the Prince. She clambered to her feet, her cheeks rosy and pink from the fresh cold air. “Very well,” she said. “But if you get defeated this time, your Highness, you have only yourself to blame.”

As she stood I got my first good look at her. She was more beautiful than ever, I thought with a pang of regret. Feyland had clearly had an effect on her. She seemed older, somehow. More self-possessed. Womanly. Her muscles were taut and her face was more mature, more thoughtful. I thought back – what if Breena really was the Princess of Summer? As she stood before me, wiping strands of her dark hair out of her face, I could certainly believe it. No princess I had seen had ever looked more regal than Breena did as she took the staff from Kian and prepared to face off against him again.

“Stand taller,” Kian barked. “You're going to be mincemeat for pixies if you go into a battle slouching like that.”

She stood up taller.

“No, like this.”

Kian walked over to her, placing his broad arms around her narrow shoulders, adjusting her position. “See, you've got to get the angle right.” I could see Breena flush slightly with pleasure as he touched her; I could see her mouth part ever so slightly, her eyes close with desire. Did she care for him, I wondered hotly. This cruel Prince, this Prince who had dogged my nightmares for many a night now, whom I had prepared to fight, to kill – and she seemed to
care
for him?

No, it could not be, I told myself. It had to be some kind of enchantment – some sort of trick. Perhaps Kian had glamoured her. But as I watched them mock-fight, watched the adrenaline course through both of them, watched their twinned desire, I knew that Breena was under no spell. This was Breena as I had always known her: headstrong, powerful. In control of herself.

And in love with him.

I knew there was no way of telling such a thing on first glance, but as soon as I saw Breena's face, I felt certain that it was true. Breena loved this icy Prince. In four days he had managed to do what I hadn't been able to do in a lifetime.

What did he have that I didn't? He was handsome, to be sure, but in a pretty boy way – his shoulders were far less broad than mine, his air less rugged.

Logan, you fool. She never loved you that way...it has nothing to do with his muscles, his face. It has to do with you.

I glowered at the pair of them. My relief at Breena's relative safety was mingled with a pain so deep it seemed to gnaw away at my very soul.

No, I thought – it couldn't be. Breena was just pretending – being friendly in order to ensure her safety and protection. Perhaps if she thought that the Prince took a liking to her, he would make sure that none of the other Winter fairies got to her.

And he
had
taken a liking to her. That much was clear from the way he looked at her. As he stared into her face, his brilliant blue eyes opening wide with desire, he betrayed his hand: Kian adored Breena. He looked at her like nothing in the world existed except her smile.

I knew that look well. I had often worn it myself.

But I swallowed down my anger, my pain and jealousy. Breena was safe, that's what mattered. And once I got Kian alone, I'd be able to subdue him long enough for Breena and I to run to safety. We'd make it back across the Crystal River, we'd go back to Gregory...

...and then what? If Breena
was
a princess, if she was
the
princess, that meant responsibilities. That meant going back to Feyland, getting to the Summer Court, deciding to rule...

And what fairy princess would ever deign to marry a lowly Wolf?

“I'm going to go back inside for a moment,” said Kian. “Check on our stew – it's probably burnt by now.”

He was making her stew?

“I'll keep practicing alone!” Breena called after him cheerfully. Her eyes lingered on his form a little too long.

Now was my chance. As quietly as I could, I stealthily ran through the bushes, following Kian as he made his way around the front of the house.

As soon as he was alone, I pounced, snarling at him with rage that was more than perfunctory. He fell back into the snow, his eyes opening wide with surprise.

But in an instant his hand was on his sword, and I had to morph back to human form in order to be able to grab my own dagger from my belt.

“Are you here for the girl?” The Prince sneered. “You won't get her – she's my responsibility now, my problem.”

“Your
problem
!” I cried. “That's my best friend you're talking about here.”

“Friend or no, I'm charged with bringing her to the Winter Court. Fear not – your friend will not be harmed. If all goes well, she'll be returned to Summer, safe and sound.” Kian's sword clashed against mine.

“And if it doesn't?”

“I prefer not to think about that.”

He was an expert swordsman, far more experienced than I. I found myself scrambling to keep up, constantly on the defensive as I blocked each of his blows.

“You can't have her,” I cried.

“She's safer with me than with anyone else in Feyland,” Kian said, knocking my sword out of my hand. “Not that it's any of your business, you impertinent little trespasser! How dare you even think of coming into my...”

We were interrupted by a loud female scream, punctuated by a burst of yellow and green light. My heart seemed to stop. I knew that color well. It was pixie light.