Page 1 of Wolf's Prize

Prologue

Langeais, Frankia (France)

Year 988

Twelve-year-old Kathryn Beauchene, red hair loose and in disarray, poked her freckled face out of the window to keep track of the woman in the green dress crossing the street.

Where is Aunt Elise going?To the stables? To the pond?

Kathryn would love to go to the pond. The sun shone, not a single cloud dotted the sky and warm air shimmered across the thatched roofs of the village. A swim would be just the thing.

Her aunt paused, casting a furtive glance up and down the lane, then darted past the stables. Kathryn’s eyes narrowed.How intriguing.She gripped the window ledge with impatient fingers, her body thrumming. If something exciting, some adventure were to happen, Kathrynwouldbe part of it. But she could not be too hasty, for it would not do to get caught. She could do without another scolding. Her father had already given her two lectures since this morning, and she wrinkled her nose at the prospect of a third.

As she jiggled about, eager to be on the move, her keen gaze followed her aunt as she slipped down the lane beside the Cadieux’s residence, heading for the west gate.

Yes. Sheisgoing to the pond.

Kathryn abandoned the window, flung open her chamber door and raced down the corridor.

“Watch where you are going, child,” scolded a maid as Kathryn flew past her. “And where are your shoes? And your head-veil? It is unseemly for a young lady to be gallivanting about so.”

Kathryn laughed, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Oooh, child. Your father needs to take a firm hand to you. You have become wild. People will talk.”

Kathryn snorted. She pushed into the street, her bare feet dirty and a fresh rip in her dress from scaling a fence this morning. What other people thought of her was the last thing on Kathryn’s mind. She skipped past the Cadieux’s home, careful not to attract the attention of their beastly son, Jean-Luc, and exited the west gate, taking the path into the forest.

The breeze carried the scent of blossoming spring wildflowers and rustled the leaves in the trees as she picked her way along the grassy trail. Why would she want to stay inside all day learning how to embroider violets and roses? She would rather be out here, enjoying the sun and the fresh air.

Her bare feet made no sound on the damp, leafy undergrowth as she ducked off the path and into the trees. She knew of a perfect vantage point overlooking the pond, ideal for this situation—a large flat rock shrouded in sapling trees. Last summer, some of the older village boys had come down to the water to swim. Pressed flat against its rough surface, remaining unseen, she had spied on them as they had stripped off their clothes and frolicked in the cool water. She had never seen a boy naked before. The sight had thrilled her no end. They had not suspected a thing. Not once.

Careful not to make a sound, she slipped through the trees and clambered up the large, sloped rock above the pond. Her dress snagged, and she tugged at it, the material tearing.

Oh dear.

If only she had brothers. A pair of men’s breeches would be just the thing. She grimaced at her damaged dress. Brothers or no, she would never wear anything but a dress. Her father might view her dirty feet, her unkempt hair and a few tears in her skirts with amused forbearance, but for certain he would forbid her from wearing boys’ clothes.

She plastered herself against the rock and crawled to the edge.

“What are you doing here?”

Kathryn froze. The breeze ruffled her hair, and she cursed its bright color. It always caught her out.

“Why did you not come and visit upon me at my brother’s? Why all this secrecy?”

Kathryn expelled a silent sigh, slumping against the rock. Her aunt did not address her, rather someone else. She risked a peek over the rock’s lip and spied her aunt frowning at a man. A chevalier with armor like her father’s. Tall, in a dark fur-lined surcoat, the chevalier stood with his back to Kathryn and his sword belted to his waist, the large yellow-brown stone decorating its pommel bright in the sun.A nobleman.

She wriggled a little farther up the rock, trying to get a better view, and to see the face of the man below. A leafy branch obscured her vision, but she dared not move it, lest her aunt see or hear her.

“I needed to see you, Elise,” said the man. “Is that too much to ask? We were always so close, inseparable. Now I never have a moment alone with you. I have missed you. Missed us.”

His voice was tender, like that of a lover, or so Kathryn imagined. Who was this man? Was he handsome? Was it her aunt’s husband, Uncle Jacques? Kathryn could not picture Uncle Jacques speaking to anyone like that, not even his wife. He always seemed so stern and forbidding. Dark and brooding, her father called him, and she had to agree.

“I thought the message was from Jacques,” said her aunt. “That is why I came.”

Not Uncle Jacques? Then who?And why would her Uncle Jacques not simply come to the house if he wanted to see his wife?

Kathryn grinned.This is the best spot for spying.

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