It’s amazing how quickly she’s grown adept to flight, I realize, feeling proud of my friend and ally. “Thank you,” I wheeze on the night air, unsure whether or not Enomena can hear my gratitude. Still, it feels better to say the words aloud, to acknowledge how much her unwavering loyalty means to me.
Lerual, still hungry from her long, tiring journey, sneaks off in search of dessert. I try not to let my mind wander down dark roads as silence settles around me. Five days is a long time when you are in the hands of a despot. Every heartbeat is a gift, and every next breath could bring your death sentence. Will Cyrus even be alive by the time I get there? My stewpot fills the air with the scent of burned flesh, most of the water evaporating out during my inattentive brooding. I toss the bowl aside watching the charred bits of meat and root vegetables roll across the ground.
“He’s in bad shape, but you already knew that,” Siri mutters as she lands behind my back. “Suryc shared with me that his Cadogan’s mind is shattered from all that he’s endured. He’s worried that the damage will be irreversible. I try to give him hope, but from the things he’s showed me, even I have my doubts.”
“I already blame myself for this mess,” I confess bitterly, leaning hard against my Ddraig’s warm belly. “I don’t need you and Suryc heaping anymore guilt on me than I already carry.” My hands knot into my hair as her words fall into my heart like stones. Irreversible. Shattered. It’s all my fault.
“Then how are you going to stop Wolf?” Siri interrogates me, shifting so that she can swing her head around to see the whites of my eyes. “I heard you tell the others your plan. It lacked practical application, if you ask me. So, either you don’t have a solid means of achieving your goals, or you didn’t want them to know because you’re going to do something stupid. I, however, deserve the truth. What are you going to do, Iris?”
I know she will not like hearing my answer. However, the more I’ve thought about my options, the more I’ve come to realize that this is my only real choice to make. It’s the one thing that Wolf will not expect, because he has no idea it’s even possible. Still, I bare my teeth in preparation for a fight as I exclaim, “I think it’s time I discover the strength of my Windwalker abilities.”
***
The next day Wolf sits high on his throne, observing the separated hordes of people, all surrounded by his pack guards. The sounds of Cyrus’s screams still ring in his ears like a pleasant melody. After he passed out, Wolf turned his body over, setting one of the medic acolytes in charge of clearing the tubes in Cyrus’s lungs every hour. His brother clings to life even now, and every rattling wheeze only pleases Wolf more. “Well, well, any more prisoners to be tried, Jackal?” Wolf asks, his fingers absently rubbing a stain of Cyrus’s blood on the leg of his pants. Such a glorious day. Iris was right; I was born to rule this land.
“None, Wolf. The House of Piranhas is dissolved,” Jackal replies with a bow, backing off to the side of the platform as he waits for new orders.
“Excellent,” Wolf exclaims with a nod. In the shadows of the trees, Wolf sees the faintest outline of some long-awaited figures. “Come forth!” He calls to the men, excitement flooding his veins.
The border guards float out of the forest, moving as ethereally as fog down the Devil’s Spine. Matthais still wears a hood over his features, and even in daylight, Wolf cannot make out any distinguishing marks on the weathered leader’s face. “We are not accustomed to travelling this far into Cassé,” he remarks, his words betraying his annoyance at the summons he’d received by this would-be king. “Still, you offered us a great deal of product. That would make the trip profitable; I trust that you can make good on your word?”
“Naturally. I’m glad that you decided to venture into my lands. Your trip will be rewarded handsomely.” Wolf waves a flippant hand toward him, too euphoric to squabble over the fact that the guards did not deign to bow. After all, Wolf reasons as he slumps deeper into his seat, I’m not officially king. Yet.
“You’d better be right,” Matthais mumbles, patting a bag of gold on his hip while his other hand reaches for his sword. “Let’s get this transaction completed. I’m uncomfortable being so exposed in Cassè.”
“Where are my prisoners that admitted their guilt?” Wolf clicks his fingers on the arms of his throne while he waits for his guards to answer.
“Here, Wolf,” Hyena shouts from the crowd on his right, his words punctuated by a short, hysterical laugh. “What would you have us do with them?”
Wolf eyes the throng of bodies, slowly calculating an estimated number before turning back to Matthais with the lazy smile of a satisfied house cat after finishing a huge meal. “Our usual price is twenty pieces of gold for one head. I estimate the cost to be around two thousand.” Two thousand! Such a glorious war chest to begin my reign!
“And yet, I will only pay fourteen hundred,” the guard murmurs, dropping his bag of gold on Wolf’s throne. He folds his arms across his chest, expecting the outburst that is sure to come.
“Surely they are worth much more to you than that!”
