Page 7 of Ruling Destiny

New arrivals at Gray Wolf always start off as Green. And honestly, I hated every moment of being a newbie. Not that being a Yellow was much better. All it really meant was that I was no longer a Green but not yet a Blue. Which also meant I was forced to eat my meals alone. If it wasn’t for Braxton volunteering to share a table with me, I’m not sure how I would’ve made it through.

But that’s all in the past. And now, after working my ass off to finally make Blue, I eat my meals with my friends and Trip to whatever timeline Arthur sees fit to send me.

At first, the idea of time travel seemed like the ultimate mind fuck. But then I made my first Trip back to 1745 Versailles, and my mind was blown open for real.

I pull the academy sweatshirt over my head, and just as I hoped, I catch a hint of Braxton’s warm, spicy scent. After burying my face in the sleeve and inhaling again, I grab a pair of old sweatpants, cinch them at the waist, and am just about to go hunt down my shoes when I spot a pair of dusty black boots shoved into a far corner, and a jagged shard of memory slices right through me.

Last time I saw those boots, I joked that I should wear them, since they’re obviously too small for Braxton. I was just having fun, but his reaction was so weird, the moment stuck with me.

His face turned ashen. His gaze went hollow and dark. Then he snatched the boots from my hands and tossed them into the corner where they lie now.

And seeing them again… Well, I have that same prick at the back of my neck, that same insistent twinge in my belly, when I remember the way he replied when I called him out for acting so strangely.

They remind me of a long-ago event I prefer not to dwell on, he’d said.

So why do you keep them?I asked.

Because I can’t afford to forget.

A quick twist of his gold signet ring, a notable thickening of his accent—all his nervous tells were on full display.

I bite down on my lip, continuing to stare at the boots. Then, with a furtive glance over my shoulder confirming the water is still running and Braxton is nowhere in sight, I steal forward, crouch down beside them, and…release a soft sigh.

They’re just boots.

Ordinary boots.

Tall, made of fine black leather, the sort of style an equestrian might wear. And though they’re still as dusty as the last time I saw them, a closer look shows they also bear the stain of something crusty and dark.

Mud, perhaps?

Or something…else?

I haul the boots up by the shaft, determined to get to the bottom of this once and for all, when I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the three-way mirror and gasp.

I mean, seriously. Between my tangle of hair, my eyes smudged with last night’s eyeliner, and the way my hands shake as I troll Braxton’s boots like a suspicious girlfriend scrolling through her partner’s phone, searching for illicit photos or texts, I’m steeped in shame that I’ve stooped to this level.

And yet, as ridiculous as I feel, I also can’t stop. Because if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that there’s a reason Braxton was so triggered by the sight of me holding these boots.

But what could it possibly be?

I lift the boots higher, inspecting the instep, the toes, trying to get a better look at the stain, when suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, the lights begin to blink on and off and the ground starts to shake.

My breath halts in my throat. But before the panic can really take hold, I remind myself there’s a good chance it’s not at all what I think.

It’s entirely possible someone’s just setting out on a Trip, since the amount of energy required to make time travel happen causes the ground to shake and the lights to blink.

But when I try to move, I find my feet are glued to the floor and my knees are locked tight, and I know it’s as bad as I feared.

My heart stutters, squeezing tight as a fist, as my mind reels with the realization of what’s about to take place—and how the timing couldn’t be worse.

I can hear Braxton finishing up in the shower. Soon, he’ll find me standing frozen in his closet, his old boots clutched in my hand, and—

I don’t get a chance to finish the thought before the boots begin to heat, the walls fall away, and the floor drops out from under me.

4

I’m falling.

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