Page 213 of The Moonborn's Curse

"Looking for someone, little witchling ?" a voice asked from the shadows.

A woman stepped down from a stalactite like a shadow slipping into skin. She was impossibly beautiful—just as the oracle had said. Pale, glowing skin. Golden hair. Crimson lips like blood against snow. She wore a fine tunic, well-made boots, and a golden chain around her neck bearing a strange pendant.

"If you mean your hound," she said, gesturing casually toward Threk, "Steine took care of him. While you were busy chasing fireflies."

Seren rose slowly "Lilja."

The woman smiled, all sharp teeth. "I prefer Lunara now. Of the Starnheim tribe. Show a little respect."

She extended a hand toward the wrong-wolf.

"This is my mate. Highclaw Steine."

"How did you get past the wards?" Seren asked.

Lilja's smile deepened.

"Oh, Seren. I don't think you quite realize where you are. You're well past the wards. The caves... they wind like rivers. You never notice the bend until the current takes you."

Her voice dropped. "You're in my land now."

Lilja stepped closer. "So here's the deal, pet. If you don't want your little bear turned into a rug, you come with me. Now."

Seren hesitated, looking back—toward the tunnels, the direction they'd come.

"He is gone. He can't help you anymore."

But her limbs were shaking. Her gift drained. Her vision swimming.

She turned once more to Threk. Then to Lilja.

And then she followed.

Behind her, Highclaw Steine padded in silence. Seren sent out a silent prayer that Threk would survive.

Chapter 81

Hagan was pacing, teeth gritted, eyes wild with fury barely held in check.

"She should've been back by now!" he growled. "Dain is not responding to the link. We are supposed to keep her safe!"

He turned sharply on Veyr, who stood at the head of the longhouse with arms crossed, jaw tight. "You let her go!"

Veyr's voice was troubled "I didn't know."

"That's not an excuse!" Hagan slammed his fist into the nearest beam, the wood groaning under the force. "We should've followed. We should've—"

Hagan swallowed, "What am I going to do? Where could she be?...Seren..."

The heavy door creaked open behind them.

Renna staggered into the longhouse, pale and drawn. Her lips were bloodless, her eyes unfocused. Kastor held her upright, one arm braced around her waist, the other gripping her wrist tightly.

"Renna?" Hagan's voice cracked.

She didn't answer. Her knees buckled.

Hagan was there before she hit the floor, catching her with both arms. As her head lolled forward, her long dark hair spilt over hisforearm—and there it was. A glimmer of red beneath the strands at the back of her neck.

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