Page 72 of In Her Own Rite

She looks at me, her mouth tight, her eyes a deep, rich blue—and for the first time, a little gold. I can see the amber ring around her irises coming in a little stronger, and it catches me off-guard. I swallow and focus.

“I know we’re figuring some shit out right now,” I say. “But I made you a promise, and I meant it. So you can be fucking pissed at me, and maybe I deserve it. But I’m still gonna be here, okay?”

“I don’t know, Kier,” she says. “I don’t know if I want you here, if you don’t know how to support me.”

“I’m trying,” I say.

“I’ll see you when you get back, okay?” she asks, and she turns to walk to the stairs.

26

KIERAN

The morning I leave for Saroe, I take the first ferry of the day.

I feel like shit. Em’s been ignoring me since our last conversation, and even though I was training on Halluk, I moved my schedule to work out in the afternoons so she could have the gym to herself in the mornings. My body misses the routine almost as much as it misses her.

Caspar picks me up at the north shore and takes me straight to the woodworking workshop. On the drive over, he fills me in on the orders he’s fulfilled, and which new ones have come in. I’m half-listening, but I’m also watching the people on the streets as we head into town. Things feel different—a little quieter and more edgy than when I left. I notice that most of the kids that play out in the streets now have a parent watching from the doorway.

“How have things been since the attacks?” I ask.

“Tense,” he says, taking a left. “You know Ingela Tayyuni? Her car backfired near the harbor yesterday, and people scrambled like it was a gunshot.”

“Man,” I say. “That’s crazy. Even in the nineties, I don’t think it was like this.”

“Yeah. At least then, they left after each attack,” Caspar says. “It’s been different since they stormed the common house. There’s a curfew now, and the marshals asking people to volunteer for the search crew.”

“Who’s involved?” I ask.

“Right now it’s just the two marshals and the volunteer fire squad looking full-time. I helped them out on Tuesday, but this week has been too busy at the shop. I think Viggo’s involved, if you want to talk to him about volunteering.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll think about it.”

Caspar pulls into the street with our workshop and drops me off outside, then heads back to his place to park the car. I pull my keys from my front pocket to unlock the front door. Once I’m in, I switch on the lights, taking in the scent of sawdust and lacquer.

It’s good to be back, I realize. I missed a bit of my sense of purpose on Halluk, with mostly Em to care for and the Remnant to worry about from afar. It’ll be good to lose myself in my work again, if just for a little bit.

I head up the steps for the loft, where Caspar’s and my desks are located. First I make some coffee—just instant stuff, not nice the way Em makes it—then refamiliarize myself with my latest projects. The most important is the wedding arch, and I take a look at the design I was working on when I was last here.

I spread out the papers on my desk. Four pillars curving into arches at the top, forming something like a trellis. I’d imagined carvings in the arches: grapes and pomegranates, doves and sparrows. But looking at it now, it feels wrong. The beams look thick and clunky, and the symbols don’t ring true.

I set the papers aside and take out some clean sheets to take another stab at the design. I try for something a little more abstract: tree branches overlapping to create separate arches, crossing each other in something like a stained glass window. But it looks like an elf door from one of those fantasy movies Maren made us watch, and I start over. At some point, I hear Caspar get to work downstairs, starting on a dresser I designed a few months ago. By the time I think to take a quick lunch break, I’m four redesigns deep, and I hate each one as much as the last.

It’s just past three when we hear a commotion from outside. First a woman’s scream, and the sound of metal clanging from down the hill. I stand, looking through the front windows, and see Caspar turn to look behind him.

“Do you think it’s…” he asks. But before he can finish his sentence, I’m running down the stairs and towards the door.

I throw it open just in time to see a group of wolves tear past me, making their way to the heart of town. I look to the left, where they came from, and see Heimig’s book stall turned over in the street, a bushel of apples spilling onto the ground from the market. Behind them, a woman is gathering her children inside, all three of them crying.

“Caspar, the rebels. Come,” I yell, and I shift and follow the group.

They tear through the cobblestone streets, and as soon as they realize that Caspar and I are behind—both in our wolf forms now—I see one of them give a signal, and they split. I can sense more of our own kind running up behind us: Heimig and two other elders, whose scent I can’t quite catch in the air. A few of the rebel wolves break off down a side street, and Caspar and Heimig turn to follow them. I follow the main group—there must be five or six—as they head for the heart of town.

I get close, trying to bite at the tail of one of the smaller wolves running in the back. She’s a female, with a small frame and gray fur. I think of what Quinn said. The wolf who attacked Gabe was female. Could this be the one who cost Gabe his rite? Who started all this?

But just as I lunge forward, trying to catch her, I feel a body barrel into my side. Another female wolf, this one silver-gray and absolutely massive. She tries to slam me out of the way, getting me off of the smaller one. I look up to see where she came from, and realize she’s run in from one of the side streets, from the group Caspar and Heimig chased away, now trying to rejoin her pack. I pick up speed, but she runs faster, trying to worm herself between me and the smaller one.

No—thismust be the one who attacked Gabe. The smaller wolf wouldn’t have enough weight to break his leg by jumping on him. This one, though, is a beast.

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