Page 72 of Empowering the Wolf's Heart

It would be another few hours before sunrise, but I decided to visit Grandma. See if I could beg of her another mission. Any mission. Anything that could pay enough for a single mage stone so I could save my sister’s life. I knew what her answer would be. But I had to try.

I left Ran on the edge of the woods. She gave one last, low nicker to let me know she was there. But nothing she said or did could help me. Not anymore.

Soon as I stepped inside the tribe’s borders, a Red enforcer came to meet me. My blood ran cold. Was I caught? His smile seemed to say otherwise.

“Welcome, First Blade Alia,” Markus, Head of the Enforcers, said. Enforcers were a special branch of Reds who served as the hands of the elders and protectors of the matriarch.

It took a moment for his words to penetrate. “What?”

His grin broadened. “Former First Blade Hilda has retired to care for her child, who was born premature but lively. You are now First Blade of the Reds.”

More Reds stepped out behind him, all of them grinning as I stared with an open mouth and a brain that couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening.

“You did it, Curo!” Brandt shouted, slapping me on the back hard enough to bruise and shocking me from my stupor.

Twenty Reds spread out before me. They struck their fists against their chests and saluted me as First Blade.

The streets were nearly deserted at this time of night, with cicadas screaming in the distance and cats yowling fromunder porches and shop fronts and side alleys. I had an honor guard as we passed from the outskirts of the city to the more posh interiors where the more affluent individuals lived above their shops and homes. Further in, the highest-ranking Reds, enforcers, and elders had homes about half the size of Grandma’s palace.

We stopped beside a home with a guard stationed atop a ten-foot-high gate.

As First, Hilda was highly regarded for her skills and sacrifices made for the tribe, but most Reds didn’t live in large houses such as this. Hilda was the daughter of Elder Pulma, and he ensured she was well protected when home.

Grandma wasn’t of the sort to protect her progeny in such a way. She let life’s lessons flow and didn’t offer help, even when I begged her to find a way to help Anna. She said the weak would die and the strong would take their place. It was the ‘way of the world’ according to her.

I no longer agreed with her twisted ways of thinking.

Grandma spoke of strength as a mere physical aspect, yet I knew Anna was the strongest of us all even if I could beat her in combat. Strength of the soul was more powerful than any physical prowess.

Hilda stepped from the gate with a tiny babe swaddled in her arms. Hilda was missing a few fingers from a werewolf bite that nearly took her hand. She had the pelt hanging on one of her walls.

Now, as she looked down at her babe with a softness in her eyes I had never seen from the hardened First, I realized perhaps killing wasn’t everything and that truly living was much more worthy than surviving. If Hilda could find freedom from killing, could I?

“I, Hilda of lineage Illuminatio from father Pulma and mother Estra, succeed to you, Alia of lineage Conscientia fromfather Liam and mother Annikia. You shall henceforth be known as First Blade of the Reds.”

Hilda stepped forward, and I offered her my hand. She sliced my finger and used the blood to mark my forehead.

She was about to get on her knees, but the way her eyes pinched gave me a hint of empathy. Sheneededrest so soon after having her babe.

I caught her arm. “Don’t,” I whispered for her alone to hear. I raised my voice at those going down on a knee behind me. “Don’t bow to me, you lot of heathens. It’s time to celebrate, isn’t it? I’ve waited too long for a lot of freakin’ old tradition to take this time. I need an ale.”

A spattering of laughter went up after my words and a few of the more ale-inclined who would be scotch drunk later cheered.

Hilda gave me an appraising glance of her dark eyes. There were bags beneath them, and she was near ready to drop from exhaustion. She bowed her head, more regal and more respectful than any bow I’d ever seen. “Thank you,” she said.

She turned and entered the household, and I watched with a tiny smile as her husband welcomed her back and gently put his arm around her waist to support her.

There were good people out there. Even in a tribe of killers.

The Reds lifted me on their shoulders and toted me to the Fox and the Werewolf, a little alehouse with wolf, deer, and cat heads on the walls. A massive fireplace roared in the wall across from the doorway. We Reds took up a massive table near it. A round of ale was spread around as tales spread of my first kill of a rogue werewolf when I was still a trainee all the way to how I’d defeated a lightning mage with a rod of silver in the ground.

A slow smile spread across my face as I watched those I’d fought and bled beside toast my new position.

Maybe everything would be ok.

But then a frown crossed my face.

“Where’s Graham?” I asked Brandt.

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