Page 117 of A Kingdom of Shadow and Ash

Wren lay in the most ungraceful position imaginable—arms and legs splayed wide like a starfish, head dangling off the mattress, a thin line of drool slipping from her lips.

Mal grabbed the wolverian girl by the shoulders and shook her with enough force to snap a lesser being in two.

A low growl rumbled from the corner of the room.

Mal stilled, twisting just enough to spot two wolves watching her with narrowed silver eyes, their hackles rising at the sight of their master being manhandled.

She had known that Wren and her brother’s massive wolves had been sent to the dungeons, but she had not realised that smaller ones had been permitted to keep them company in their quarters.

Slowly, Mal released Wren and turned towards the beasts.

She dropped to all fours, crouching low, cocking her head as she studied them in silence. The wolves inhaled deeply, scenting her.

They did not attack. Instead, they took a cautious step backward, instinct recognising the quiet, simmering threat that lingered in her very bones.

‘Ya rather creepy.’

Mal glanced over her shoulder to find Wren now sitting up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, looking more amused than concerned.

But Mal was in no mood for laughter.

She stood swiftly. ‘She didn’t come.’ The words left her in a low, dangerous growl ‘She must’ve realised the notebook is missing. She’s hiding. We need to find her.’

‘Couldn’t this have waited untilafterbreakfast?’

Mal grabbed Wren by the arm, unyielding. ‘We need to catch her before she escapes.’

‘Okay, okay.’ Wren groaned, but relented, plucking the stolen notebook from beneath the pile of discarded clothes on her bed.

With a knowing glance, she knelt before her wolves, pressing the book beneath their snouts.

The moment their noses twitched with recognition, the animals turned and bolted from theroom, following the scent with single-minded purpose.

Mal and Wren ran after them, shadows slipping through the castle’s halls in pursuit of the truth.

…

Klara moved swiftly down the winding staircase, her breath measured, her hands tucked neatly into the folds of her dress as if that alone could keep her from trembling. She had woken in the earliest hours of morning to discover that the notebook was missing.Damn them.

It meant, of course, that she would have to changeagain.

Recreating herself took time—crafting a new face, a new form, a new lie. The glamour was a delicate art, and the first transformation always took the longest. She needed hours before she could shed this body and slip unnoticed into another. Until then, she had no choice but to hide.

A simple excuse had been enough. A quiet word to one of the other maids, a whispered complaint of illness. With Vera already absent, now Klara too—soon the servants would start whispering about a sickness spreading among them.

She hurried along a narrow corridor just beyond the kitchens, the scent of roasted meats and fresh bread thick in the air. From within, she heard the clamour of pots clashing against iron stoves, the shouting of cooks demanding urgency. The chaos of it all concealed her retreat as she reached for a wooden door nestled against the stone wall.

It creaked open, revealing a small, unkempt garden, overgrown and forgotten. Beyond it stretched dry, cracked earth, barren and untraveled, a patch of terrain so unused that most had forgotten it even existed.

It was the very same path she had once used to smugglewitches into the castle.

And now it would serve as her escape.

Klara stepped into the open air, the scent of dust and scorched grass rising in the heat. The door shut behind her with a quietclick. She exhaled, allowed herself the smallest moment of relief.

A growl shattered the silence.

Her body locked in place, every muscle frozen as she turned.

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