Page 175 of The Wolf King

James lunges at him, only to stagger back with a grunt. His eyes widen. An arrow protrudes from his shoulder. I spin around and an archer on horseback behind me smiles.

The ground shakes as Wolves spill down the hillside to defend their king.

“Put her in the carriage,” says Sebastian, flicking a dismissive wrist at me. “Let me finish off this savage.”

Panic rises and roils over me in waves. I barely register the man who grabs my arm and pulls me back. Nor James, as he breaks the arrow with a grimace that turns into a smile promising violence.

“You’re a dead man, Sebastian.” James throws the arrow aside.

“I don’t think so.”

The valley is loud with the sound of thundering hooves. I’m dragged through the men that are getting ready to fight.

My pulse races.

No.

The wind rages around me, stirring my skirts and stinging my skin. It whispers to me. It stirs the wildness within.

I’m not going to die.

I rip myself out of the man’s grip. Something thrums in the air. An energy. Or a song. It flows through my body and pulses through my soul.

Goddess, help me.

I will not be a prisoner again.

The clouds block the moon, and the valley plunges into darkness. I am blind to the surrounding danger, yet I do not fear it. The shadows seem to curl around me. They protect me.

There’s a murmur of voices, a skidding of hooves.

Confusion rings in the air.

A soft light draws my eye. Within the box Duncan holds, the white stone glows. I hear a voice on the breeze, soft and female. It is a song, ancient and in a language I do not know. Yet in my heart, I know the tune.

Freedom,it sings.

As if in answer to the song, or perhaps it is in answer to my prayer, the Moon pushes from behind the clouds and floods the valley. It brightens, as blinding as the darkness. Ahead of me, Sebastian’s eyebrows knit together, a flash of confusion on his face.

James’s eyes widen in surprise, then triumph. His muscles jerk. The crack of bones resounds in the night. And when he lunges forward again, he is not a man.

He is a wolf with brown fur and rippling muscles and sharp teeth. There are markings on his forelegs where his tattoos are inked when he is a man.

The male beside Sebastian shifts and meets James in mid-air, and the two hurtle to the ground, gnashing their jaws. The Borderlands army charges past me, knocking me between them. The rest of James’s men have shifted, and an army of bloodthirsty Wolves charge at them.

Sebastian rears back, grabs my arm, and drags me away from the screams.

I let him.

Not because I am scared by the violence. But because the violence has fed something wild and hungry inside me. And now it wants more.

I will do this for Callum. For Callum’s mother and all the others Sebastian has harmed.

And I will do it for me.

I will do it for the future I never dared to hope for.

The knife is heavy at my thigh as Sebastian hurls me into a horse-drawn carriage.

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