8

Elias nodded slightly, brow furrowed like he was still trying to figure me out.

I sighed. “I suppose it’s another thing I took as truth from my father, when he wasn’t even my father at all.” He’d done nothing but lie to me my whole life—it was like I had to now re-examine everything I knew about myself, my past, and my future, to untangle his deceptions from my reality.

“I have something for you,” Elias said abruptly. He gestured for me to step closer.

I moved to stand in front of him, and the closeness of his strong body, the warmth of the fire, and the brandy in my veins all made me want to lean closer, to press against him. Bury my face in his neck and inhale his soothing, masculine scent. I didn’t, even as my wolf complained internally.

“Here.” He pulled a delicate brooch from his pocket made in the shape of a moth. The body was made of fine silver, and the wings were inlaid with moonstones. “This is for shifting. It allows you to keep your clothes intact, should you desire to shift, and protect your modesty.”

That would make it easier, I had to admit—not having to stash clothes and sneak around nude. It felt a little more civilized. I’d seen Amity and Rue use something similar. Was this a tactic used more by the lower-class wolves? I wasn’t sure, but I was still surprised by the surge of gratitude I felt at this small, attentive gesture.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

Elias fastened the brooch onto my shirt. Then his touch drifted to my shoulder, then my cheek, slowly enough that I could pull away if I wanted to. I didn’t.

“Will you trust me?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Come run with me,” he said. “We’ll sleep better.”

If I said no, he’d go running, and I’d have some coveted time alone in our tiny room, after spending so much time together in our tiny carriage.

But the air was crisp outside. The moon was full and high in the sky. My wolf whined, pacing and pawing eagerly.

“All right,” I said. “Just a quick run.”

Elias’ face broke into a gorgeous, wolfish grin. How could I be expected to say no to that?

He led me back outside, out the backdoor of the Bloody Nightingale where a small garden had been planted. He stripped briskly—no moonstone for him—and left his clothes hanging on the garden fence. I hardly had a chance to admire the curve of his muscle in the pale moonlight before his wolf exploded forth in a crackle of power. His broad paws hit the soft earth with a thud. Elias shook out his dark pelt, then tipped his big head at me expectantly, ears perked forward and tail wagging like a puppy.

I took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill my lungs. I tipped my head back, closed my eyes, and let my wolf take control.

Choosing to shift felt different than my wolf forcing my way out. Power moved down my spine, then a cool energy surged from my core and danced down my nerves all the way to my fingertips and toes. The shift rippled over me as my wolf gleefully sprang forth.

My paws hit the ground. I took another long inhale through my newly elongated snout, and in this shape the air was rich: the legumes growing underground, the lamb cooking in the kitchen, the smoke from the hearths inside, the strong smell of dirt and moonlight. I shook out my bright white pelt, too.

Shall we? Elias’ voice rumbled in my head. His eyes gleamed pure gold as he watched me, jaw barely parted enough to reveal a hint of teeth.

I perked my ears forward. I’d almost forgotten that—that he could communicate with me in this shape so easily. It felt good, though, to hear his voice so intimately. I lunged forward and nosed roughly at his neck, inhaling the warm, familiar scent. Yes, I said in response. I wasn’t sure he could hear me, until he rumbled a low acknowledgment in his chest and knocked his head affectionately against mine.

Behind the Bloody Nightingale, the bald roads were vast and rocky, peppered with boulders and a few spare trees leading to the distant forest. It was vast and open, untended, uninhabited—freeing.

Elias turned around, then dug his back paws into the dirt and exploded off of them, bounding onto the bald. I yipped in delight and chased after him. We sprinted as fast as our wolf-shapes could run; the wind combed through my pelt as if to graze me, and my nose caught the many sweet scents. I chased after Elias, hopping over rocks and dodging trees as we ran and ran, chewing up the distance carelessly.

He was right. It did feel good. It felt incredible. I ran faster. My heart pounded hard, blood singing in my veins as my muscles worked, shaking off the stiffness of travel and the frustrations of the past few months. It all slid off me like rainwater. I barked happily; we approached a large boulder jutting from the bald like a turtle’s shell and I charged it, ran up its sloped face to the top and then leaped off, gleefully careening into Elias’ bulk and knocking him onto his side. He yipped back playfully and snapped his jaws at me. We tussled like that in the bald for a few minutes, playfighting, until I had him pinned.

His gold eyes gleamed as he bared his throat in submission. I nosed at his exposed neck affectionately, then leaped off him and back up, head lowered in an invitation to play, tail wagging.

He looked up and released a low, sonorous howl. The sound made my whole body shiver with pleasure, and I thumped my tail against the ground as I sat back on my haunches and instinctively echoed him. Our twin voices filled the cold night air.

It was so easy to be together like this. I only wished our royal lives were as simple.