Page 41 of Of Wolves and Wives

“The girl wants nothing to do with him,” Helena adds. “Besides, the girl must not be killed by a possible mate before she’s given birth, and Rykker will see to that.”

Tearing my eyes from her, I glance to the prince. Rage twists his face into something ugly. Reluctance wafts from him as he stares daggers at his wife. Finally, he gives a slow nod. I don’t hesitate to turn and walk out the gates.

26

Rose

Racing through the trees, I feel as though I’ve stepped into a new life. Perhaps it’s not so much the fresh air but being away from the castle. It doesn’t matter, though. I’m thankful for the new freedom. Dodging branches and boulders, I drag Lyra behind me. Her sobs make me flinch in the fear that she’ll attract every wolf in the area to us. Or any other predator.

Through her sobs, she manages to complain about her body aching. About the way she can’t catch her breath and how fast we’re going. I ignore her. Slowing down now would only ensure that we’re caught. I’m not sure she’s fully come to understand the truth of the prince or what lies ahead for us.

“We can’t stop,” I tell her repeatedly.

We have to keep moving. I will not allow us to be caught. Right now, we’re still close enough that any of them could find us and drag us back. Neither of us would survive that.

My feet and mind are focused on the small mountain cave. Even as Lyra struggles to keep up, I move forward. I’m hopeful that there’s more to the cave than I saw that night. I hope it offers a path through the mountain. A way home. But, even if it’s just a cave, I’ll take it. It should provide shelter for us to come up with a real plan if there’s no path there.

It grows harder and harder not to think of what lies between us and home. The wilderness that no one has survived. But I don’t have the time to worry about that. I can consider my options once we get there, not before we’re even far enough away from the wolves.

Finally, the trees around us look familiar. I let out a sigh as I spot the crack in the mountain. Just as I remember. My pace finally slows as worry begins to truly set it. The crack is smaller in reality. One glance at my growing belly, then at Lyra’s. Thankfully, she’s too busy sucking in air to see the look of panic on my face.

I move toward the crack, peering into the darkness. It’s our only option. Turning, I motion at Lyra. She makes a face as she stares at the crack. I can see her reluctance on her face. Annoyance fills me. We don’t have time for this.

“Step into the cave, now.”

Blinking, Lyra takes a step forward. My voice is powerful, more powerful than I’ve ever heard it. It leaves no room for argument. Lyra moves past me and into the crack without any comment. I follow her. After a few steps, the crack narrows even further. It takes some wiggling and maneuvering, but we continue on without a word. My jaw tenses as I hope the crack widens. Or there’s a bigger exit ahead. Otherwise, the two of us will be stuck here until we’ve given birth.

With each step, the light from the crack fades. Its damp and growing darker and darker. I’m worried that we’ll be unable to see what lies ahead, which might be a problem. My foot catches on something, and I tense. A dim purple light fills the crack. I blink, just making out Lyra ahead of me in the new light. It only lasts a second but it's enough to feel hope growing in my gut.

We hesitate for a moment. Then, without any prompting from me, Lyra begins to stomp on the moss at our feet. I realize then that it’s the moss that lights our path. With the darkness chased away, Lyra seems to relax. Our laughter spills from us as the direness of our situation melts for just a moment. She reaches for my hand, smiling as we dance over the moss together. Lightness fills me for just a moment.

The moment passes then. Our enjoyment of the moss is quick to pass as we continue on. With the moss lighting our way, Lyra begins to fill the air with her questions. She wonders about what beasts lie ahead of us and how long we’ll be stuck here. When she begins to ask about food and water, I’ve had enough.

“Do you not understand the gravity of our current situation?” I snap.

Lyra falters for a moment before slowly turning to face me. Her face is pale in the dim purple light, her eyes wide. Tears pool in them as she continues to stare at me.

“Of course,” she finally admits. “I’ve been a fool, I know. I have myself to blame for that. You tried to warn me. But I thought the worse of you for it, like the fool I am. And I ruined the only true friendship I’ve ever had. Pushed away the only one that’s ever not seen my status or looks when they glance at me.”

“Lyra.”

She shakes her head, “I know I was terrible. And I hate myself. But I can’t let myself think on it for any longer, or I’ll die of hatred for myself. I’ll never forgive myself for what I did or allowed to happen. I know I have no place to complain, but that’s all I have left.”

I watch her for a moment. She bites her lip as she tries to keep her tears from falling. With a sigh, I move toward her. Pulling her to me, I feel her shake as she loses that battle. I wrap my arms around her tighter, so she knows she’s not alone.

“You’ve been an idiot,” I tell her, my voice light, so she knows I’m joking. “We can change that now. Start anew.”

“I would like that. Very much.”

She pulls away, wiping at her tears and giving me a watery smile. Hand in hand, we continue on. This time, the damp cave around us is filled with our voices as we tell one another of our lives before. Our lives back in the city.

27

Rose

Slowly, the hours slip past. I suspect that we’re traveling upward, which I’m hoping is a good sign of what awaits us at the end of this tunnel. But deep down, I’m fearful of where this tunnel will let out. If it does. Of course, I keep this to myself. Lyra has finally just managed to relax. I don’t want to ruin that.

The further we go, the more and more I begin to fear that we may never escape this mountain. That we may have left the wolves behind, but this slab of rock will claim us. Until I feel a cool breeze caressing my cheek. Blinking, my steps slow. I glance about and realize that we’ve nearly passed a small offshoot tunnel. Overhanging moss and the darkness nearly hide it, but I take a step toward it, once more feeling the fresh air on my face.

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