Date: 2012-10-12 07:00:00+00:00
Description: If you like Anne Rice, Sarah Maas, and Neil Gaiman's fantasy books, you'll love Kailin Gow's epic fantasies like this one. Wolf Magic can be read as a stand alone or as part of the Wolf Fey Series or the Frost Series. If read as part of the Frost Series, Wolf Magic is best read after Frost Fire (Frost #6) and before Midnight Frost (Frost #7). With their fey blood in danger of becoming extinct, the leader of the Wolf Fey, Logan the Wolf Prince, must find and restore the magic of the fey into all the Wolf Fey. Now that Logan has the Wolfstone, from The Red Wolf, he must help unite the spirits of
Publisher: theEDGEbooks.com

Wolf Magic

The Wolf Fey Book 3

kailin gow

Wolf Magic  (The Wolf Fey #3)

Published by THE EDGE

THE EDGE is an imprint of Sparklesoup Inc.

Copyright © 2012 Kailin Gow

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or  mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

For information, please contact:

THE EDGE at Sparklesoup

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First Edition.

Printed in the United States of America.

ISBN # 978-1-59748-019-2

A Note from the Author

Thank you for reading Wolf Magic. Although this is the third and final book in the Wolf Fey series of the FROST series, it can be read as a standalone or after The Red Wolf (Wolf Fey #2) or after Frost Fire (Frost #6).

I sincerely hope you enjoy Logan’s point-of-view of Feyland, and please let me know what you think by contacting me at: kailingowbooks[at]aol[dot]com.

Prologue

My princess. My love. It had been months since the truth of my identity had come out, since I had first discovered who I was and who I was meant to be. It had been months since I first held that glowing Wolfstone in my hand, feeling its red warmth spread out through my tingling fingertips. It had been months before that strange, sure voice within me spoke the words I had never dreamed of hearing. I am the Red Wolf. I am the Leader of the Wolf Fey. I will restore the magic to my kingdom. And yet I felt no fear. I felt no shock. I felt only the strange and slow sense that I had always known: who I was. My destiny.

And yet what was my destiny without her? Whenever I fell asleep, I dreamed of her, of my Breena, her long dark hair tumbled over her shoulders, the porcelain white tones of her flesh made rosy by the force of her desire for me. I dreamed of her as she had been, during those three months of my life when I thought that we were both lifted up into paradise. The three months that Breena had loved me, that she had kissed me, that she had drawn me to her and declared me her own, wrapping her arms around me and rejoicing in the effervescent splendor of our love. At the time, I had believed that she had finally seen me for who I was – that she had finally come to appreciate my impossible love for her, and perhaps discovered deep down within herself that she too had the capacity to feel the same way. At the time, I had embraced hope. I had believed that maybe, just maybe, this exquisite and ethereal creature could love me the way I loved her: totally, completely, admitting nothing and nobody else.

I should have known that it was a spell that made her love me that way, and not the stirrings of her own heart. When unenchanted, Breena never looked at me that way, with eyes spilling over with passionate darkness, brown liquid pools of chocolate or caramel that spent me spinning into ecstasy. No, those eyes were reserved for Kian, her fairy Prince. The man she truly loved. But for those three months, she had turned that gaze on me, her mouth spreading open into the loveliest of smiles, her eyes glimmering with delight. For three months she had kissed me and allowed me to kiss her; she had succumbed to my embraces, to the frenzied and somewhat fumbling pawing that had represented for me the very pinnacle of what I had always wanted, had always adored.

You should have known, you fool.

That's what my dreams always told me. That's what the stirring, nit-picking voice in my subconscious said when it wanted to torment me. You should have known that Breena could never love you, that she would ever want you. You should have known that the look in Breena's eyes was the result of a spell, an enchantment, that she'd never want you for her King Consort, for her co-ruler, for her husband, for the lover that shared her bed. Not as long as Kian was around. You should have known that every time you touched her, every time that you delighted in her body – how smooth and soft it was, how taut the muscles, how firm the breasts, how delicate the fingers and wrists – that you were violating her, making love to a shadow. The real Breena – the true Breena – wasn't even there. She was asleep, rendered passionate by a spell that took over her body. But you didn't see it, did you? You saw only what you wanted to see. The woman of your dreams finally loving you the way you always wanted to be loved. Loving you back.

And you call yourself her best friend? The voice in my head snarled and spat like a vicious dog, like the savage Wolf within me. You were so selfish, so desperate to convince yourself that she loved you, that you overlooked the signs. You didn't even notice that the girl you loved most in the world wasn't herself. That she was possessed...

Or did you notice – and just pretend not to? Did you overlook the things you didn't want to see, try to forget the things you didn't want to believe? Did you pretend to yourself that her look was genuine, that her kisses blazed with genuine passion, that the twists of your tongue as she covered you with words of love were genuine, too? Even when you knew they could never be?

Stupid Wolf – thinking she could ever want a beast like you. When she could have the whole fairy kingdom kneeling and begging at her feet.

Guilt blazed through me; it devoured and consumed me. I couldn't bear the pain and yet I knew I had to bear it, for there wasn't any other choice. I thought of Breena as she had been in those days during which I loved her, during which she allowed me to love her, and as much as I recoiled from the thought – knowing now as I did that her love for me was just an illusion brought on by a maliciously mixed potion – I couldn't stop myself from fantasizing, in my dreams, about those nights that we'd shared. Rationally I knew that my experiences had been with a phantom, that now – cured of her passion when Kian had broken the spell – Breena thought of those nights with a sense of violation and horror. I tried to shut them out of my mind; out of respect for her I tried to push the taste of her flesh out of my thoughts. But I knew I could not. No matter how hard I tried in my waking moments to be the perfect gentleman, the servile Knight, for her, my dreams had other plans for me. I dreamed of her over and over again; I drowned in her flesh; I exulted in the smell and sweat of her caress. I woke up each morning, clouded over by my shame, paralyzed by her absence.

I loved her, after all. And this love floored me.

I'd tried to move on. We'd had to move on together, after all. We'd managed somehow to stave off the Dark Hordes together, her and me and Kian, managed to reunite Summer and Winter under the banner of  a United Feyland. And a good thing, too. Political concerns aside, the fact that I no longer needed to fight alongside Breena gave me time to myself, time to consider my own thoughts. Time to focus on my destiny: the one thing that could distract me from the agony of Breena's loss. From the fact that my love was engaged to marry another – that she had been so joyful, so bloody ecstatic, when she looked into Kian's eyes and promised that yes, she would be his for all eternity.

I had to distract myself. I had to focus on my mission. I had to concentrate on the magic of the Wolf Fey. Before my grandfather died he had made me promise to restore the magic of my kind, lost as the result of an unfortunate bargain with a sorceress as ambiguous in her loyalties as she was powerful in skill. I was the leader of the Wolf Fey, destined to bring magic back to my people.

Maybe then you'll be good enough, the dark voice in my head never quite let me go. Maybe then she'll want you. When you can stand next to Kian, side by side, and rival him in magic as well as in looks, in power.

In love for Breena.

I couldn't hate Kian, after all, as much as I wanted to. He was noble; he was kind to her. He treated Breena well. If he had been less deserving, perhaps, it could have been easier. I could have challenged him to a duel; I could have proved him unworthy of her. But as it stood, I could blame him for nothing. Nothing, except, but the crime of having won Breena's love.

But tonight I did not dream of Breena. Tonight was the first night in many months I did not dream of Breena. Instead I was tossing and turning, as if I were a ship on the crest of a stormy sea, my body soaking the sheets with my sweat. My throat was parched; my whole body tingled and stung as if I were on fire. I was yelping with pain, my cries echoing around my chamber.

I opened my eyes in this dream-world and I was on fire. I scrambled to make sense of my surroundings – I didn't know where I was. I remembered no flame; I remembered no ignition. Everything started and ended here, with these flames – flames no more painful, perhaps, than the torment I had undergone. I yelped and screamed, wolfish cries erupting from my throat, even barks.

I leaped out of the flame and began rolling around on the earth, trying to singe the fire, the heat mingling with the familiar earthy smell of Feyland soil. I looked around for the first time as the flames subsided. I was in Feyland, it seemed. No other forest smelled so sweet; no other trees or their leaves were as green. Nowhere else did the beauty overwhelm me the way it did in Feyland's forested depths.

A splash of water soaked me to the core, dousing the flames and chilling my bones in equal measure. I yelped a lupine yelp as I sprang up in surprise, looking around me to the source of the water. My eyes fell upon a woman's pail.

“So,” the sound of her laugh was deep and crackling like the fire from which I had just escaped. “My meal has hoped to escape from me – what do you think of that?”

“Meal?” My muscles tensed up as my body prepared itself to fight. “What do you mean, meal?”

“I mean meal,” the voice was firm and no-nonsense. “But I've decided that since you've apparently proven yourself capable of showing some gumption, I might as well give you a fighting chance. As it were.”

“What do you mean?” I looked around wildly but could not see the source of the voice.

“If you want your life so badly,” said the voice. “You can fight for it. Or not, as the case may be.”

“Who are you?” I cried out. “What do you want with me?”

“Ask not what I am,” replied the voice. “But rather what you are. Which is to say – meat. I wanted to eat you...” The voice giggled. “But seeing that you are awfully entertaining – and not the least bit unhandsome – I may decide to keep you for my pet instead.”

The hackles rose on my neck, and against myself my animal snarl came out. “I'm nobody's pet,” I said, grimacing.

“Suit yourself....” The voice was light and airy. “I admire your bravery – but I admire your looks far more. I'd like most to keep you obedient, locked up in a cage so that I can look at you every time I want. It's not often that I come across a Fairy Wolf in human form – particularly not one as handsome as you.”

I had to think fast. While my instinct was to fight, my rational mind suggested to me another, wiser course of action. I put on my pleasantest face and looked around. “Then why don't we have a look and see who my admirer is, eh?” I tensed my muscles, ready to turn into a Wolf at the first available opportunity.

“As you wish...”

“Whoa....” I muttered to myself, too distracted to transform.

There came into view a woman in her early twenties – with long dark auburn hair and flashing eyes, easily one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen.

She also happened to be a giantess.

Chapter 1

I couldn't transform. My mind went blank with shock. I'd seen plenty of bizarre and extraordinary creatures in my time in Feyland, but I'd never quite come across anything like this. A woman maddeningly lovely, with dark sultry eyes and a flashing smile, with broad shoulders and taut muscles – and easily twenty feet tall. I gaped for a second – overcome by surprise. It was enough time, however, for the Giantess to pick me up between her thumb and forefinger – by the nape of the neck, as if I had been the whelp of a litter, and look me up and down. I struggled against her, but it was evidently to no avail. The Giantess was far stronger than I was.

“Hm...” the Giantess said, considering me. “I like this kind of pet, you know. You're multi-purpose,” she said, drawing out her words as slowly as possible. “You're like a human, a wolf, and a fairy all in one. Not one doll, but three!” She giggled again – a girlish giggle that was all the more unsettling for its contrast with her seductive, entirely adult appearance, and for the fact that she could evidently kill me with her little finger.

“No...” I cried, my voice catching in my throat. “I'm not sure who you are – but I should warn you, Lady, that I am not a pet, nor am I a plaything.”

“Of course you're not...” laughed the Giantess.

My body flushed with the heat of anger. “Let me go!” I cried again. “By the orders of Logan, the Wolf Prince. I am warning you, Lady, unless you want the wrath of all the Wolves of Feyland to crash down upon your head, I advise you to let me go!”

“Maybe I will; maybe I won't,” said the Giantess in  a sing-song voice. “Maybe I'll think about it, as soon as...ouch!” I had managed to distract her long enough to bite into the slender, fleshy part of her hand between her thumb and forefinger, which was on her body easily the size of a basketball. I drew blood, which spurted forth in torrents, staining my face and hair.

But it was enough to distract her into loosening her grip, allowing me to tumble – with a painful thud that spilled, with a the sound of a crack, at least two broken bones -  to the earth.

I didn't have time to focus on my pain. I sprang to my feet and started transforming into my wolf form as I ran, my body growing stronger and faster as my arms morphed into wolves' legs, my body purpose-made for stealth and speed. I closed my eyes and tried to tap into the telepathic link that unites all Wolves, calling out to my cousins, to my friends, to all of my kind who could help me.

Aid me, soldiers. I am your brother, your cousin, your father. I am the Wolf Prince, and I am in my hour of need. I call upon you, comrades, brothers, sisters, children, parents, to aid me...

I spoke the traditional calling of the Wolf Kind; even my breathlessness would not deter me from making the call in our rich Wolf tongue. I immediately felt a tightening in my chest, like a golden thread netting about my body, drawing me in the direction of my Kind. It was one of many remnants of magic the Wolf Kind possess – they are able, no matter what the circumstances, to identify whether or not there are other Wolves nearby and, if they are proximate, to be pulled towards them.

But behind me I could hear the chilling pounding of large footsteps – making the ground shake as violently as during an earthquake. My bite had paused but not stopped the Giantess; she evidently was not done with me yet. She was chasing me. Adrenaline coursed through me as I sped up, trying not to panic. This woman could take me easily; I was powerless against her. My only strength was in my speed. I had to outrun her, to outmaneuver her through these tangled woods. Otherwise – I was lost.

The beauty of Feyland blurred by me as I passed it. Normally these woods, these branches, these gurgling streams and crystal-shining brooks, would floor me with their loveliness, impelling me to stop and stare. But this time I had no time for beauty. My heart was pounding faster than the drops of rain in a thunderstorm; I had to keep going – as quickly as I could. I was out of breath; my throat – already parched – was screaming for water and release as harsh air flooded through it.

I looked ahead of me and felt my stomach plummet. Somehow I had found myself at the edge of a cliff. There was no way down – except back the way I came – and the Giantess’ footsteps were getting louder and louder with each passing moment. I swallowed hard and turned about, rearing up on my hind legs. There was no help for it. I would just have to fight.

I didn't have to wait long. Soon the Giantess followed on the path, almost as out of breath as I was. I knew that I couldn't give her an inch; my only advantage now was the benefit of surprise. I leaped forward, howling as I leaped, so that my cries echoed across the plain (and, I hoped, all the way into the ears of my brethren), and jumped on her ear, tearing at the enormous flapping lobe with my wolf's teeth, watching with relief and disgust twinned together as the flesh ripped open.

I hadn't managed to tear the ear clean off, but I'd come awfully close. I lurched down as the flesh flapped over.

The Giantess’ hands closed about my waist as I bit her on the torso, filling my mouth with sickening chunks of her flesh. This fight had now become a struggle to survive. I tried to keep down my dinner at the stench and taste of her. “Let me go, woman,” I snarled, a human voice sounding from my wolfish throat. “What do you want with me?”

Her eyes seemed to gleam over. “I want...” she said, her eyes widening with desire. “I want what you have in your dreams. Lead me to it.”

“What are you talking about, Lady?”

“The red stone...” She closed her eyes and inhaled, as if smelling a delicious perfume. “Lead me to it. Give me the beautiful red stone.”

My eyes grew wide with shock. I had never spoken of the Stone to another person, Wolf or Fey. Nobody knew about it but me. “What stone?” I said carefully, doing my best not to allow my voice to waver. She couldn't suspect the truth – none of them could.

“The stone that you dreamed about,” said the Giantess. “Surely you have it on you. The one that was given to you in the dream.”

“That was a dream,” I said swiftly, biting at her neck. “It wasn't real.”

“Your dreams are real, Wolf,” the Giantess’ eyes glimmered. “All your dreams are real, Red Wolf. For they are not dreams, but visions. You have been granted the gift of Visions, and so reality and fantasy blend in your mind. That is how I was able to summon you here, after all.”

Her hands began searching me, poking and prodding me and blistering me with bruises as she felt for the stone. I bit at her hands and she yelped with pain.

“I do not have the stone, Giant,” I cried.

“It's on you,” the Giantess sniffed the air. “I can smell it on you. I can smell the power. All of the power located in that little itsy bitsy stone – how sweet it smells! How utterly delicious! I've been longing for it for a long time, my dear Wolf. Maybe even centuries. I long for it – I hunger for it! Just as I am hungering for you now. How delicious it is – my desire! How much I need it! I want it! I must have it!”

As she spoke, she lifted me up, planning no doubt to turn me upside down and shake out the stone that way, as if she were shaking nuts from a tree. But by lifting me so high up, I noted swiftly, my animal instincts kicking in once again, she provided me with an excellent opportunity. Her ear, flapping and bleeding, was so terribly close...

Before she could shake me, I leaped forward and grabbed the ear with my teeth, placing all my weight upon it as I pulled swiftly. This time I found my target; the ear came clean off and fluttered to the ground like an enormous postulant petal.

The Giantess howled in pain and clutched at the side of her head, from which geysers of blood were now gushing forth and sprinkling the ground. But I didn't have time to pay attention to her cries, or to see what would happen next. I was running, as fast as I could, bounding towards my brethren, towards my kin, trying once more to sense their presence through the telepathic link that connected all Wolf Fey to one another.

And then I heard it. The sound of violent impact thundering behind me.

The Giantess was still in hot pursuit.

Chapter 2

The trees were emerald, but I did not see them. Not even their impossible beauty could stop me, could dissuade me. I was running, my throat tight, my heart pounding, energy and adrenaline flowing through my body like warm strength, the pain in my muscles aching more and more with every single moment. I had to run; I’d never felt like this before. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I knew that I was dreaming – after all, I had no memory of getting here, of getting into the flames to begin with. I remembered falling asleep in my warm bed at the castle. I remembered hoping that I wouldn’t dream of Breena.

And tonight was the first night in a while that I did not dream of Breena. But this Giantess, who had somehow summoned me forth in her dreams, was more terrifying still than the memory of Breena’s rosebud mouth and soft, blushing skin. Was I still in a dream – or was this reality? When I ran I felt disconnected from my own body, as if I were running in a nightmare, the ground vanishing from under me. What would happen if I just gave up – if I just let go? Would I return to my slumber, find myself awake in my bed safe and sound? Somehow I doubted it. If this Giantess could call my innermost self forth to her as I slept, I didn’t put it past her to reach me in my physical form as well.

“You can run,” thundered the Giantess, “but not for long! I will find you! I will crush you beneath my feet! Fear me, mere Wolf, and run howling back to me with your tail between your legs before I whip you like the whelp you are!”

But something within me kept me going, pulling me forth, as if I had been caught in a net. The sense that my kind were close at hand. I tensed up my muscles and sniffed the air, a familiar scent filling my nostrils. The sign that someone I knew, somebody that I trusted, was nearby.

“Owwwww!” The howl echoed across the skies, filling me with new hope. It was a sound I recognized. I would know Josephine’s slightly edgy, spirited cries anywhere. My heart swelled with pride and relief. Josephine – strong and powerful, with muscles that would send even the strongest Wolf heading back to his cave in fear – was close by me.

I stopped.  This had to be a dream or some kind of alternative reality. Josephine had died during our battle to restore the Twin Suns or had she?  I myself barely survived to find out, but from what I heard, Josephine was killed, gone.

I raised up my head and howled back to her. Even now, in the height of fear, the sound of my own howl filled me with strange joy. There was nothing like being a Wolf. When I was a mortal, I sometimes felt that something was missing, some part of my life was incomplete. But when I walked on four legs, howling at the moon and at my kindred brethren, I felt that I was entirely, completely myself. I was the person I was supposed to be. Adrenaline coursed through me; even in my fear I was overwhelmed by joy. I had never felt more alive.

“Brother Logan,” Josephine came bounding up to me. I recognized her even in her wolfish form. Her tawny pelt, the color of caramel and cream swirling together on her soft fur, was striking – lovely as well as intimidating. Her eyes were piercing blue – in wolf form as well as human form – a look that gave her a slightly unearthly air. She was very much alive, as I was. Perhaps brought back by magic…as I was. The magic of the fey was still a mystery to me, but that did not mean it did not exist, as did faith.

She clambered up to me, out of breath and exclaimed, “Logan, Cousin!  Good to see you are well and alive. What is it?”

“Giant…”

I knew that the Giantess could not understand our wolfish tongue; this would at least buy us some time.

“Giant?” Even as a wolf, Josephine’s cocked head and perplexed expression gave her an air of utter confusion.

The thundering of the Giantess’ feet in the distance, her spreading shadow expanding like a storm cloud before us, answered that question.

“Giant,” I repeated.

“Quick, to the caves!” Josephine ran and I followed her into a small dugout in the Cliffside, a narrow expanse that the Giantess would hardly be able to see, let alone cross. Our ears pounding, we squeezed through the gap and I followed Josephine down into the subterranean chambers I recognized as her lair.

“Quiet!” Josephine hissed, baring her sharp teeth.

We stood stone-still, crouching down with our muzzles between our paws, as we heard the footsteps of the Giantess.

“Come out come out wherever you are!” she called, and we caught sight of her enormous feet blocking the glimmer of light that came through in a single beam from the opening to the cave.

We breathed a sigh of relief as she passed us by.

“What was that?” Josephine looked at me accusingly. “What have you gotten yourself into, Logan?”

“I…” I spluttered for a moment. “I honestly have no idea.”

“What do you mean you have no idea? Where did you find her?”

“That’s the thing,” I said, trying to explain. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember?” Josephine looked worried for a second.  “Oh, for Lupus’ sake, Logan, you haven’t been…I mean, I know you’re upset and all – but you can’t start drinking. You know what it did to Uncle Romulus.”

“Uncle Romulus…” I caught her meaning. “Drinking – no, Josephine, it isn’t like that.”

“Good,” she said savagely. “Because broken heart or not, it’s no excuse to shirk your duties.”

Good old Josephine, I thought bitterly. At least she hadn’t changed. Josephine made it a point of pride that she’d never nursed a broken heart; she’d never been interested in dating or mating at all, on two legs or on four. She considered love to be a distraction – she subscribed in that sense to the old Fairy Ways, which most of our kind did not – and looked down on it (and, I knew, by extension, me) for falling victim to such animal stupidity. Animals, Josephine liked to say, bred. But as Wolf Fey, we were better than that. We had to prove that we could rise above our physical instincts – otherwise what separated us from the silent wolves that had no power of metamorphosis?

“It’s not that at all,” I said, speaking up again. “I mean – the last thing I remember was falling asleep – and then I woke up….here. Miles away!”

“Sleepwalking?” Josephine looked at me sharply.

“I think the Giantess…summoned me,” I said. “I know it sounds stupid, but she mentioned something about seeing into my dreams. I think she managed to pluck me from wherever I was sleeping and control my dream, sending me here.”

“Well you look perfectly real to me,” Josephine said. After a pause she spoke again. “It might sound stupid,” she said, “but plenty of stupid-sounding things happen in Feyland. I’ve stopped feeling surprised by anything here. Nothing fazes me anymore. This land is magic. Feyland contained magic, was built upon it. All the fey draw their source of magic from it in many different ways. And if this Giantess has the power to see into dreams…” She stopped. “What does she want with your dreams, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” I said quickly. As much as I cared for Josephine, and certainly trusted her, I wanted to keep the circle of people who knew about me and the Wolfstone to one person only. Me.

“Listen,” said Josephine. “I think I know what to do. We’ll have to ambush her. There’s lots of wolves who live in these parts – they listen to me. They’ll do what I tell them. No point in just hiding out here – she’s bound to figure out where we are sooner or later and I don’t want her going around smashing my caves. If we all set upon her at once,…” She sighed. “We’ll lose some men. But that’s always the way of it, isn’t it?”

I looked into her eyes, surprised at how she could lead men and women so coldly into battle. But Josephine considered herself a true warrior – a brave and strong warrior – and that meant no succumbing to personal feelings or fears.

“I wish I had your force of purpose,” I said.

She smiled half-heartedly. “Yeah, I wish you did too,” she said, before emitting a howl.

I recognized that sound. Josephine’s call to battle – a call full of nobility and bravery, a call that clearly signaled to all the wolves in the vicinity that Your leader calls you. You may risk everything. But you will risk it all the same – because you trust me. I marveled at her strength, her conviction, even as inwardly pain gnawed at my heart. Josephine, I knew, was a true leader, brave and strong, willing to risk everything if it meant serving the good of the Wolf Fey. She was the leader I wanted to be. But as long as my heart lay with Breena, I knew, my loyalties would be divided between my own people and the Fairy Kingdom that Breena called home. I knew that some of my kind would call me a Wolf Traitor because I refused to put her out of my heart, because I was willing to ally myself with the kingdoms of Winter and Summer. But how could I turn my back on my Breena? She was my angel; I was her knight. Even now, in the depths of this dream, I ached for her; I missed her. My whole body cried out for  her.

“Let’s go,” said Josephine, shaking her long mane as she began to race out of the cave and towards the glen where we still could glimpse the shadowy outline of the Giantess. I followed her as fast as I could, my muscles twisting and aching with the effort of matching her speed. Behind us followed Josephine’s whole pack, howling as they went along, their fur tawny and shining bright as they nipped at the Giantess’ heels, biting into her flesh, covering her whole body with their bites.

“Ahh!” She flailed and shook off two wolves that had bitten into the soft part webbing between her fingers, causing them to sail through the air and crash in a sickening heap in the corner before a tree. I stopped myself from howling with pain at the sight of two wolves, so easily killed – their lives extinguished in a single moment. But Josephine was undeterred. She darted forth, avoiding the foot that came crashing down, crushing another few wolves, and bit the back of the Giantess’ ankle.

She tumbled forth like a tree, howling with pain as she crashed to the earth, causing the ground to shake and shiver with her weight. It was like an earthquake, reverberating through the trees. The crash sent echoes across the terrain.

All at once the wolves leaped onto the Giantess’ back, pinning her down with their claws, biting at her until at last she was subdued.

I howled at her, my voice growling with rage for all the Wolves whose lives had been lost already.

“Okay, madam,” I said, trying to keep back my anger. “I’ve got a few questions for you. And it’s time you started answering.”

Chapter 3

The Giantess was still thrashing with all her might as I approached her, my teeth bared, my mouth salivating for revenge for all the lives of the Wolves she had taken. I had to be careful here. I wanted to question her about the Wolfstone, about how she knew where it was, and that I had it, but I couldn’t say too much. I didn’t know whom among Josephine’s pack I could trust. The secret of the Wolfstone and of its location, I knew, had to be kept a secret by the Red Wolf. And essentially, it seemed that that very Red Wolf was I. I darted aside, avoiding the Giantess’  thrashing limbs, which though largely subdued still packed quite a considerable force, and leaned into her single remaining  ear, sticking my muzzle where only she could hear me.

“What do you know about the stone?” I whispered. “Keep careful Lady, whom you tell, and what you say, or else your remaining ear will be forfeit as a prize for what I have won.”

The Giantess groaned. Her voice was whiny now, almost babyish. “There are three who can unlock the stone,” she said at last, looking at me with flashing dark eyes.

“Three what?” I was in no mood for guessing games or riddles. I wanted answers – and fast. Whatever the Giantess knew it – and however she knew it – these things might make the difference between life and death for my kind and me.

But the Giantess seemed to have no interest in answering my questions. She bellowed loudly, rolling around on the earth, as her stomach rumbled – a rumble so loud that it seemed at first to be the rumble of thunder in the distance. “Let me go!” she cried. “I must eat. I must eat.”

“I know you’re hungry,” I snarled at her. “Deprived of a good meal, weren’t you? Stomach’s growling for all those wolves you wanted to consume.”

“I must eat!” The Giantess cried aloud. “I must! I must! Or…”

“Very well,” I rolled my eyes. “My wolves will provide a snack for you – something to tide you over. But only if you cooperate. What three are those of whom you speak? Who are the three?”

The Giantess let out a wailing, writhing scream that shook the very ground beneath her. “My stomach!” she cried. I looked over at her. This hunger did not seem to be merely a matter of a rumbling stomach. The Giantess was shrieking in agony, rolling about, thrashing as her stomach sounded again and again like the blaring of a trumpet.

Josephine and I looked over at each other, shocked. It was as though this woman came out of a twisted fairy tale, but one based on fey lore. Was this the product of the my imagination or was the Wolfstone drawing on magic and tales from all over, summoning anything to it that had the powers to unlock its magic? Could this Giantess be one of its keys? Whatever was ailing her, this was certainly not normal hunger. And whoever this Giantess was, I got the feeling that her ways were still a mystery to me, and I’d better not risk any magic that seemed to be filling her with such insatiable madness – not when I still had a shot at getting answers out of her.

Josephine gave the signal to her wolves, and a pack of them headed off into the woods – I assumed to find some kind of prey that would be acceptable to her. But the Giantess showed no signs of being willing to wait.

“The three….” She gasped. “They are women – all.” Her eyes began to widen and sparkle with new light. “Hurry,” she gasped out between breaths. “I need food – or else…” She lashed out with her hands, freeing a single arm. Before any of the wolves could stop her she grabbed one by the tail and dropped it straight into her mouth. Josephine rushed forth with a howl but she was too late. The wolf had been gobbled up in an instant.

Out flashed the Giantess’  hand again and two more wolves – not fast enough – were dropped straight into her waiting maw. The wolves were no longer able to hold her down; they scrambled under her weight, tearing at her skin and causing her to scream.

Josephine darted forward, her fangs sinking deep into the Giantess’  flesh. “Logan, forget the questioning! She must be taken down before she consume all of our wolves!”

“I’m hungry” wailed the Giantess, picking Josephine up, wincing at the pain of her punctured hand. She seized Josephine and began to dangle her over her lips.

“No!” I cried, jumping straight onto the Giantess’  face and biting into her lips. Her jaw slacked with pain as blood sprayed all over my fur; three more wolves bounded up alongside me to immobilize the Giantess once more. This time we were shaking with fury. This sickening being had already killed too many of our kind, and I was close to authorizing that we end her life immediately, without these questions that were only buying this despicable specimen more time to hurt more of us. But at a look from Josephine, who had wrestled herself free of the Giantess’ grip, I fell back. Josephine was in command of this particular operation; Josephine was willing to take the risk.

At last we subdued the Giantess once more, and she groaned with pain as Josephine nipped her in the neck, drawing geysers of blood.

But the Giantess was not to be deterred. She lumbered up to her feet, throwing the wolves back against the earth. Josephine too was thrown back against the trees, and I cried out in surprise as Josephine yelped with pain.

“I will get one of you!” The Giantess’  voice thundered. She reached out, her hands wrapping around two more wolves, who yelped with pain as she lifted them up .She licked her lips.

“Now,” she said. “Which one of you should I eat first?”

But before the Giantess could make such a decision, her stomach rumbled once more, a rumbling so loud that we all lowered our heads and covered our ears.

“Oh…” The Giantess looked confused, looking down at her torso with a perplexed look on her face. “Oh dear.” Her stomach had begun to quiver violently. She began to shake, the rolls of flesh on her quivering up and down as they shook like leaves in a thunderstorm, her whole body flashing and rolling as she seemed to be violently shaken by some unseen force.

“What the…” Before my very eyes, the Giantess was getting smaller and smaller with each successive shake, shrinking until only one part of her remained on the earth – detached and distended, red and swollen. Her stomach.

I bit back bile, but it was too late – the stomach too seemed to shrink and vanished into nothingness.

I was dumbfounded as I felt my body change back from wolf to human, exhausted by the chase. What had just happened?  I turned around, looking all over. Was I being pranked upon from the likes of jokesters like Pan, who had deceived me a few times before? If it was a prank, it was a deadly one, with wolves who had forfeited their lives in this prank.  Perhaps it was the Wolfstone again, testing my ability to keep its secrets, to keep my resolve as the new Red Wolf?

“Looks like her stomach ate her up,” Josephine said grimly, transforming to human form as she pressed her hand against the bruise on the side of her head. “Strange, I guess. But I’ve heard stranger. In Feyland you learn that the strange is normal. I’ve heard that creatures like this existed in Fairyland. Giants and Giantesses that wander around these parts. Of course, you’ve heard all those stories in the Land Beyond the Crystal River. But they never go quite far enough, do they? They don’t tell the real story.”

“No,” I admitted as I scratched my head. “These fairy tales have a twist, don’t they?”

“Fractured fairy tales indeed,” said Josephine, nodding. “That Giantess wasn’t just the giants normal human beings read about in fairy stories – but something else. And I’m not interested in sticking around to see if there are any more like her out there.” She swallowed hard.

“True,” I sighed, looking around and noting with relief that the woods appeared to be unoccupied. “Let’s head back into Wolf Fey territory. Somewhere that we can hopefully get some rest and quiet.”

“Yes,” said Josephine.

Chapter 4

It was a relief to spend time alone with Josephine after what had happened. The blood was still hot in my veins from my encounter with the Giantess, and adrenaline still coursed through me, snaking through my arteries and giving me a feeling of panic and power combined that still had not worn off, despite having seen the Giantess destroyed in front of me. I was still panting – wolf-like even in my human form – still exhausted. My muscles ached. Every ligament in my body felt poised to snap – stretched to the breaking point. Could I take this? I sighed as Josephine put out her hand, taking mine in hers. She seemed so strong – so comfortable. Life seemed so easy for her. Even when she was facing down death, she did so with a flint-eyed and steely stare: she knew no fear. Easy for her, I supposed. She knew no love. Death for her was a cruel but necessary part of heroism – it would never be, as it was for me, that thing which threatened menacingly to separate me from all those whom I loved. I thought of Breena, lying cold upon a slab, and I woke up in a freezing sweat, terror flooding through me. But not Josephine. She never had such nightmares. She looked on death coolly, as an equal. Even now, many of her wolves having died before her eyes, she treated me with the same cordial formality that she had displayed earlier – the mark, in the wolf lands, of a ruler. Granted, wolves had a reputation of being far from stoical as the fairies on that front. Fairies liked to think that we wolves were animals, were bestial, compared to the smooth and easy civilization of their kind.

But if that was true, I thought, then Josephine had gone to extra lengths to combat the stereotype. Her placid gaze could out-Fey the Fey themselves.

Josephine's soft smile put an end to my ruminations. “Come on,” she said softly. “Let's head back toward something approaching civilization, shall we?” She laughed bitterly. “I'm sure your clan misses you – it's been too long, Logan...” For a moment her voice wavered, and I caught something like a tremble in it. She turned her tawny, shining eyes upon my own. “We've all missed you, cousin,” she said. “We howled at the moon when you were gone.”

I cast down my eyes, shamefaced at her implication. I knew what I had done – in the eyes of so many in my clan. Turned my back on Wolf lives, Wolf ways, to follow after the girl I loved, the girl who wasn't even of my own kind. I knew what the Wolves thought of her – what they whispered behind her back. That she was a seductress, a siren, that she'd cast some Fey spell upon me to make me do her bidding. Perhaps she had, I thought bitterly – after all, my feelings for her were strong enough that enchantments themselves seemed to pale beside them. But I resented the implication, shared by so many of my kind, that Breena was at fault. Perhaps it was easier for them to believe that Breena was some sort of siren, a witch with glowing eyes, than to believe that their own Wolf Prince had chosen to ally himself with someone from the mistrusted Fey lands. Now that Breena and I had broken our engagement, and the hope that their Wolf Prince would marry the Summer Queen dashed, the wolves were harsher with their opinion of her. Even more so with her engagement to Prince Kian. But I knew the truth. My love for Breena was my fault and mine alone.

“Yeah, about that,” I said in a hollow voice, refusing to look at Josephine. “I know it's been a while.”
“Been busy?” She raised a querying eyebrow.

“Yeah,” I looked down again as we walked together through the emerald forests. The foliage got thicker and deeper, as together we walked through the shimmering glens of Feyland. Even now my heart quivered with a soft pang at the sight of Feyland, its beauty resplendent before me.

We were greeted at long last by Josephine's parents, my aunt and uncle. Unlike me, who was the child of a Wolf father and a human mother, Josephine was full wolf: the child of two creatures like herself. Her father, Thorntree, had silver fur that had gone snowy white with age, and bright blue agate eyes that stared me down, their piercing force making me ever so slightly uncomfortable as they assessed my presence. Her mother, Briar, had beige fur with a slight pinkish tint, and was looking at me with kindly but clearly hawkish eyes.

I knew my aunt and uncle well. Growing up, I'd spent plenty of time being around them. I spent half my life in the mortal world, in the Land Beyond the Crystal River, but I also spent a fair few months in the summer and winter holidays bounding across green meadows and white snows in the company of wolves. Josephine – my more powerful, older cousin – had been the one to show me the “ropes” of Wolfdom, as it were: racing me through fields, howling at the moon with me. Making me at once conscious of what I'd missed during my time as a human and all the more motivated to prove myself as a worthy Wolf contender.

I looked around Briar and Thorntree's palace. It had changed much since I had last seen it. I remembered it as a mere collection of wolf-caves, but now it was expanded, luxurious, and ornate. Velvet tapestries hung upon the walls and marble lined the floors. Hardly a Wolf palace, I thought to myself. This kind of opulence was normally reserved for humans, not animals. But I had to admit my whole muscles seemed to ache with relief at the very thought of lying down on one of those satin pillows that I saw lying on the floor.

Of course, to get there, I'd have to get past the beautiful, half-naked girls who were lying so comfortably atop them. I looked down to avoid showing off my blush. My time in the human world meant that I had never gotten used to the casual nudity that characterized so much of Wolf life. Love might be slightly anathema to our kind, but animal attraction certainly was not, and all of a sudden I felt acutely conscious of the fact that several of the she-wolves were gazing at me as if I were a particularly delicate piece of meat. I felt their eyes trail up and down my body and shivered.

All around me, I noticed, people were coupling up. The men and women who had returned with us from battle were shaking out their hair, relaxing their muscles, their eyes scanning the room for partners with whom to celebrate victory by engaging in that pleasurable mating act we wolves knew all too well. My skin prickled involuntarily at the suggestion – I was a hero, here in this cavern, as a result of the episode of the Giantess. And by Wolf code, that meant I was entitled to a very particular kind of hero's welcome.

I didn't have time to plan out a response to this. Almost as soon as I had noticed her, a beautiful girl with long chestnut-colored hair and hazel eyes pirouetted over to me, sitting down and looking up at me, her eyelashes batting demurely as she spoke. “You fought bravely,” she said.

It took me a while to notice the scar – still fresh with blood – on her shoulder. I had seen her in Wolf form in the battle – she had been among the more graceful of our fighters – but her human form was enough to make my mouth drop open. “You did too,” I said, trying to ignore her entirely bared breasts, even as my eyes involuntarily snatched glances downward.

“I've heard so much about you,” she said, her eyes filled with longing that left me in no doubt know precisely what she wanted. I couldn't deny that my body, at least, wanted it too, even if my heart was reserved for Breena and Breena alone.

She smiled, letting her fingers trace the outline of my shoulder, finding the slight wound that remained there. I shivered at the electricity of her touch. “You really should treat that,” she said, smiling.

“Oh...” I gulped, trying not to stutter. “That, right....”

But it was too late. The girl was already removing a portion of her loincloth, fashioning it into a bandage that she pressed against my skin. Her sweet, musky scent filled my nostrils.

“Oh, uh, please don't...” I tried. “You don't have to...” Whatever my animal instinct was, I knew, I had to curb it – the way Josephine did. My love for Breena aside, hopeless and yet inevitable as it was, I knew that the only way to maintain my authority as a leader was to stay far, far away from any potentially dangerous entanglements. My love life had already provided the wolf clan enough gossip for one generation.

“It's really nothing...” said the girl. She stopped, laughing, as she clapped a hand to your mouth. “You're not embarrassed, are you?” She looked delighted at the surprise.

“A little,” I admitted.

“I heard that human-raised Wolves can get awfully shy. But it's so silly. After all, you're naked when you're a Wolf, aren't you?”

I conceded the point, before trying to awkwardly change the subject.

“So – um – what’s your name?”

“Cat,” she said, and I stifled a laugh.

“What is it?” she looked confused. “Did I say something funny?”

“It's a funny name for a wolf, isn't it? Cat?”

“Why?”

It took me a minute to realize it. The girl had probably never seen a feline cat in her life. They were a creation exclusive to our world, one that did not exist beyond the Crystal River. The knowledge of this killed my desire with a single jolt. It reminded me how different she and I were – how different I was both from the mortal creatures that inhabited my own world and the Fey beings that inhabited this current world. I was a hybrid, a Halfling, caught between two worlds and yet belonging in neither. It was what made me and Breena such a perfect couple. She was the only girl I could talk to about that divide, the only girl who understood the pull that each world I so loved had on my psyche. Even here, even now, even surrounded by some of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen, my longing for her had not abated. If anything, it had grown stronger.

“What's so funny about my name?” Cat had gone prickly. “You don't see me making fun of your name, do you?”

“I'm sorry,” I reached out a hand and took hers. “I didn't mean to offend you. It's only just that...never mind.” I looked into her bright hazel eyes – lovely, radiant even, but missing...something… some understanding of who I was, of what I wanted.

“You know,” Cat was trying a different tactic now. Her eyes burned a hole into my flesh. “You can have me anytime you want. Hero's prerogative and all that.”

I was so shocked at her audacity that a second laugh almost escaped my lips, but I swallowed it down quickly. “I'm flattered, Cat, really I am, but...”

“You don't like sex?” She looked confused.

“No, uh, I mean, I do, but...” Memories of Breena flashed through my brain – of how close we had been, of our bodies tangling together, of our fumbled explorations.... “I need to be in love,” I said. “I don't want....just the other stuff. The animal stuff.”

“The good stuff, you mean,” said Cat, looking bored.

“No,” I said. “The other stuff is the good stuff.” I could see her again in my mind's eye, the joy on her face as she accepted Kian's proposal. I could feel that same pain once again.

“What is it, Wolf Prince?” Concern flitted across Cat's face.

“Oh, nothing...” I shrugged off her worries. “I just remembered something I think I'd rather forget.”

“I know a good way to forget...” Cat was nothing if not persistent.

“Sorry,” I said, as gently and respectfully as I could. “But that's not my thing. Besides, Josephine would have my hide...”

At the mention of her name Josephine was at my side. “What's that, cousin?” she asked me.

“Josephine!” I was relieved to see her. “I'm so sorry, Cat, but I'll have to excuse myself. I need to talk about some important matters with Josephine.”

Josephine shot Cat a significant look, and if Cat had been in Wolf form, I knew, she'd certainly be departing with her tail between her legs.

“Don't worry,” Josephine said airily. “There are plenty of much better-looking men who would be interested in you – just have a go!”

This seemed to cheer Cat up, and she sauntered away quite contentedly.

“Now,” Josephine said, giving me an equally withering look, “what was that you were saying about me having your hide?”

Chapter 5

“Come on, Cousin,” Josephine seized hold of my hand and led me over to a corner of the great Banquet Cave, where several young men were participating in a knife-throwing contest. They were stripped to the waist – all fine, strapping specimens of their kind, their muscles rippling as sweat clung lightly to their bodies. One by one the men lifted a knife in their hands, twirling the handle lightly and nimbly around their fingers before throwing it at a target – an apple on a stick posted in a corner.

“Come on, Gideon!” One of the wolves looked upset. “You're ruining it for the rest of us!”

The wolf called Gideon, a ruggedly handsome young man with sandy brown hair and eyes the color of the emerald leaves of the Feyland Forest, seemed not to mind. He made another expert throw, and cleaved the apple in two easily.

“Hmm,” Josephine folded her arms as she considered him. One of the wolves set up a new target – this time a bulls' eye.

“Easy,” scoffed Gideon, tossing his long hair as he raised his knife.

But a shining blade beat him to the center of the target. Josephine's knife had landed true, its point deep in the heart.

“Competitive, are we?” Gideon shot her a smile as his knife found its place right next to hers, so close that a single grain of sand could not have fit between them. He grinned at Josephine – a slow, wide, confident grin that made a good portion of the female Wolves sigh and howl with desire. His look was full of longing, I noted, even as a slight arrogance made it clear that he preferred his women to long for him.

Unfortunately for Gideon, however, it appeared that Josephine was the obvious exception to the rule – although it was clear that every other woman in the place was head over heels for him, Josephine remained completely oblivious, throwing an additional knife so that it split the two previous knives apart with great technical precision.

“Why are you trying to drive us apart, eh, Jo?” Gideon's voice was low and jocular.

“I'm trying to win,” Josephine said simply, with such forthrightness that Gideon could not help but laugh with surprise.

“That's you, Josephine. Always trying to beat us guys.”

“I try,” said Josephine, looking slightly perplexed by his clumsy attempts at flirtation.

I couldn't help but feel for Gideon. After all, I knew what it was like to be head over heels for a girl that didn't notice me, just as he did. As I watched the two of them play their knife game – as I watched Gideon move his hands closer to Josephine's in an effort to be near her, watched the friendly affection in her eyes as she bantered with him even as love between them seemed an impossibility, I couldn't help but reflect once more on my own life, on my own pain. I too was, like Gideon, stuck in my own longing. Breena had moved on without me. She had moved on with Kian.

She had chosen Kian over me.

And I never would understand why. Did I not love her as much as he did? Was I not as handsome – as brave – as willing to die for her as he was? What could make her choose that cold ice Prince over me, her friend of so many years? Where had I gone wrong? What had I done – or left undone – to make her choose another?

The same bitter thoughts echoed throughout my head, again and again. The more I tried to rationalize her decision, the more I tried to understand it, the more upset I felt. I would never know, would I? I'd never know why she chose Kian and not me. The only thing I could do was accept it – ignore it – move on.

“If I only could,” I whispered to myself.

Be reasonable, Logan, I told myself. Breena's love has no bearing on your quest – whether or not you solve the mystery of the Wolfstone.

I strode over to where Josephine and Gideon were concluding their competition – Josephine firmly and clearly in the lead, and took hold of Josephine by the elbow. Gideon shot me a look full of pure jealousy – and I couldn't help but be inwardly amused. Josephine was my cousin, after all, and we wolves had standards about that sort of thing. Especially wolves like me and Josephine, who prided ourselves on our fey nature. Without it, after all, we would be mere beasts, driven by nothing more than animal instinct.

“Josephine,” I began, sitting down with her at one of the tables in the lair. Even with the pillow, the stone that served as a chair was damp and hard, revealing that beneath the opulence of the palace there were still certain Wolfish elements to the design. I couldn't help longing ever so slightly for familiar human comforts.

“Yes?” Josephine was on edge. “What is it?”

I took a deep breath, weighing the effect of my words.

“What the Giantess said,” I began. “You know all those myths and legends, don't you? After growing up in Feyland your whole life? So you must know about the Red Wolf, and the Wolfstone?”

Josephine's eyes narrowed. “Ye-es,” she said slowly.

“Well, do you believe in them? The Giantess said...”

Josephine considered. “Well, we know she's no ordinary Giant,” said Josephine. “That stuff that happened with her stomach out there – that's powerful magic. Fey magic. I'd be surprised if she didn’t know what she was talking about.”

“And do you know anything about them?”

“About the Red Wolf? And the Wolfstone?”

“Yes?”

Josephine chewed her hair, her eyebrows furrowing as she was lost in thought. “I was a little kid when I heard those stories,” she said, thinking. “I can hardly remember. The legend of the three girls – the three sisters something like that?”

“Well, you know more than I do,” I said. “Do you think they could help us? Restore the Fey magic, I mean.”

“If only it were true,” said Josephine. “That a Wolfstone somewhere – out there – held the key to us wolves getting all our magic back. It's a nice story, in any case. Of course, if it did exist, it would be incredibly dangerous. Creatures like the Giantess would be willing to risk their lives to get it”

“If it restores Wolf Fey magic,” I said, “perhaps it could give Fey magic to other creatures, too.”

“Maybe,” said Josephine. “There are so many legends – and almost all of them add something new to what the Wolfstone can do. Some say it turns cotton into gold. Others swear that it makes the wearer invisible. Still others try to say that it cures ills – mental, emotional....”

“Emotional.”

“Love, for example,” Josephine raised her eyebrows at me with a small smile.

“Cure love?”

“Take away all the hurt, all the pain. Everything human about it.” She laughed bitterly. “Well, if it's real, I know whom I'm giving it to first...” She patted my hand. “I do feel for you, cousin. If only there really were a Wolfstone that could cure you.”

It took every ounce of self-control I had not to pull out the Wolfstone then and there to test her theory, but I knew better than to reveal the stone in public like that.

But before I could succumb to my own temptation I heard a strange rumbling sound in the distance. A sound that made the cave begin to shake, and plaster powder fall from the ceilings. The wolves were looking up, confused, as the whole cave throbbed with a strange rhythm.

“What's that?” Gideon turned to Josephine.

She bit her lip. “I'm not sure,” she said slowly, “But it sounds an awful lot like an earthquake.”

Chapter 6

All at once, the hair on the back of my neck – hair that so often morphed into fur – began to stand on end. I shuddered as I looked around, sniffing the air, my wolfish senses truly kicking in. I could feel the spike in my blood, in my heart rate, the sense of power and passion all around me that I knew meant that danger was in the air. Some people feared danger – but not wolves. We loved it. The adrenaline gave us new and strange strength. We were addicted to that smell – the smell of fear – that challenged us to do better, to be better. To be stronger than ever before. Josephine and I traded glances and I saw in her eyes that which I knew in myself. That there was something that united both of us – as leaders of our Wolf packs. Some strange force that made us exhilarated when danger was afoot rather than merely afraid. A delight we took in being challenged, in being pushed to our limits. Even now, after an exhausting fight with the Giantess, my mind having been inverted by her tricks, her ways, I was ready for another battle. My muscles tensed up. My whole body began to shake and shiver in anticipation.

“Could it be the Giantess again?” Josephine grimaced as her bright eyes turned upwards, towards the ceiling, which was beginning to shake with the sound of the storm. “Or…what?”

Immediately she took off towards the corridor, which had a little hole in the wall from which one could spy the outside world. She was swift, and left both me and Gideon behind in her wake. I watched as Gideon turned to look after her, his gaze mournful with longing as he watched her from behind. He looked, I thought to myself grimly, exactly how I felt. If I was any good at all at hiding my emotions, it was only because I had a job to do, a job that precluded me from letting myself fall into my customary melancholy stupor about Breena.

I couldn’t do that. Not now. I had to be strong – to show Josephine that I could be strong, that I could be a leader as powerful as she was. I took off after her, the air spicy with scents – the smell of Wolves, of battle, of blood, of danger.

I caught up to Josephine by the looking-out point, where she was pressing against the little window.

“There,” she said sternly. “Recognize that?”

I drew in my breath. There, in the distance, I recognized something familiar. A sheen I had seen before – a dull ivory. The sheen of strange horns.

“Minotaurs.”

Josephine nodded, confirming my fears. She frowned.

“But what would Minotaurs want with us?” She looked into my eyes, and for a moment I feared that I saw in her steely gaze a look of understanding. I feared that she knew what I kept hidden – knew all of my secrets, knew about the Wolfstone that burned into my pockets that I could feel alongside my skin like a red-hot ember. “What could we possibly have that would…”

I gulped and stammered out a reply. “I don’t know,” I said, looking at the floor. It was lucky that it was dark, or else I knew Josephine would have easily cottoned onto my nebulous expression.

“Not that they need a reason,” Josephine’s dislike of the Minotaurs luckily meant she was in no mood to pry. “After all, what Minotaur ever needed a reason to start a fight?” She scoffed softly and tossed her long chestnut hair.

“Right,” I said, my heart beating as much with fear that Josephine would discover my secret as with fear of the Minotaurs.

“But these aren’t just some drunken brawlers.” Josephine looked out over the horizon, where dozens of Minotaurs – their rippling male torsos given way to the heads and horns of bulls – were making their way over the hills. “This is an army. They’re not looking for a few punches – these guys mean business.” The question was implicit; it hung in the air. Why? What have you brought upon us, Logan?

“Business?” I gulped.

“This is an army,” Josephine said again. “Whatever they want – somebody pretty high up in the Minotaurs wants it. I don’t know what they think they’re doing, starting this kind of aggression with us!” Josephine was righteously indignant. “After all, we’ve never done them any harm! We’ve let them be. And they think they have the right to come in here and dare…”

I cut her off, my guilty secret making me too anxious to let her go on. I couldn’t tell her the truth straight out, though. So I hedged instead. “The Giantess seemed to be under the impression that I had the Wolfstone,” I said at last, my voice shaking only slightly. “Or at the very least that I might know where it was. Well, maybe that rumor wasn’t just a one-off. Other people heard it. If the Wolfstone is as powerful and as magical as all that…” My voice trailed off. Deep down, I thought, I wanted Josephine to guess my secret; I wanted her to know that the Wolfstone was in my possession. I trusted her; deep down I knew I could trust her. But something held me back from telling her directly. Fear, perhaps. And doubt – doubt that all of this madness could really be happening, could really be true, that I could really be the one tasked with carrying the Wolfstone.

I sighed, and Josephine did too.

“If someone thinks we have the Wolfstone,” said Josephine. “Rightly or wrongly – it puts us all in danger. That stone is pretty powerful – and creatures like the Minotaurs, like the Giantess, won’t stop hunting us down until they find it.”

Hearing her put it like that made my cheeks crimson, as I suddenly became aware of the selfishness of my actions. By being here, I had put all the Wolves of the pack – from Josephine to Gideon to Cat – in danger.  And if I didn’t give up the Wolfstone, it wouldn’t be long before other, more powerful creatures, got wind of it. Fairies. Pixies. Banshees. I shuddered as my mind checked off a mental list of Feyland’s scariest creatures.

“I won’t let that happen,” I said, more bravely than I felt. “I promise. I won’t have the Wolf Fey subjected to attacks from every creature between the North Odin Mountains and the Southern Plains – I won’t! We’ve got to find a way to end this.”

“How?” Josephine’s eyes were soft and full of something strange – almost pity.

“The Three Sisters – those three women you mentioned. We have to find them.”

Josephine broke into a surprised laugh. “The Three Sisters! Why, they probably don’t even exist. They’re just stories for children, Logan.”

“Well, aren’t we just stories for children?”

This stopped Josephine in her tracks. She bit her lip and considered.

“They’re fables…” she said, less surely this time. “Legends, nothing more…”

I took in a deep breath. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being here in Feyland,” I said slowly, “it’s that the one thing you need here is faith. Faith that Feyland will guide you to where you need to go. That it won’t steer us wrong. And right now, my gut – call it intuition or call it Feyland’s whispers or call it whatever you want – is telling me that those sisters are real, or else they’ll have to be real. We need to figure out how to harness the power of the Wolfstone – and we need to figure it out before the Minotaurs and Banshees and whoever else decides that we’re ripe for the pickings.”

“And what do we do about the Minotaurs?” As she looked out over the horizons, Josephine’s voice had grown sharp. “They’ll be here in minutes. If only we had more time…” I could see the fear in her eyes. “We’ll need to evacuate, to run…”

“Go,” I said, cutting her off mid-sentence. “Run, warn the others. Tell them to grab their weapons.”

“You want us to fight?” She looked at me in abashed astonishment. “Cousin, there is no fighting with Minotaurs. They’ll rip us to shreds and eat us alive. This isn’t a battle we can win, Logan. We need to get as many Wolves out of here as we can.” She swallowed hard. “I’ll stay back – I’m not leaving here until every one of my Wolves is out safely…”

“I’ve fought Minotaurs before,” I tried to insist. “In the Fey army. And I’ve won, too. They’re strong but they’re slow, stupid. Agility gets them every time. The key is to strike at their weak spot, to get them where it’ll hurt, in the neck…”

Josephine turned away. “I know you’ve been gone a long time, Logan, but this isn’t how we do things around here.”

Her words stung, but I pressed onwards, blindly. Deep down I knew I couldn’t let us lose, that I couldn’t be the one to be responsible for defeat because of my Wolfstone, not today. I had to fight. I had to stand up to them.

“I can call our allies – the Frost Fire Knights.”

“Fairies,” Josephine looked disgusted. “You’re saying we have to rely on fairies?”

“They’ve got strong archers among them – archers who can let fly an arrow into the neck of a Minotaur at a thousand feet. Something we don’t have.”

“We are not fighting alongside the Fey this time,” Josephine rounded on me. “How would it look for my men and women if we only survived a Minotaur Raid because of the charity of the Fey?”

“How would it look to run away?”

Her cheeks blushed red with anger as she conceded my point. “Not great, I guess,” she murmured through between clenched teeth.

“No,” I stared her down. “Not great at all. Josephine, I need you to do this. I need you to stand up for the Wolf Fey, for all of us.”

“I can’t.”

And then I said it. The words that no Wolf could ignore. The words that made her eyes light up with fiery rage. “Josephine, as your leader, I order you to prepare for battle.”

I’d pulled rank on Josephine for the first time in her life. And from the fury in her gaze I could see just how much she resented it. “We’re going to lose several in the battle, you know,” she said. “Even if we win.”

I swallowed hard but did not vary my gaze. “I know,” I said. “Do you think we can do it, Josephine?” For a moment I was vulnerable – for a moment I wavered.

At last she nodded. “We’re Wolf Fey,” she said with a bitter smile. “Of course we can.”

Without stopping to let me react, Josephine dashed off to the Great Hall. I could hear her howls and the howls of the other wolves, echoing through that enormous chamber, the call to battle I knew all too well, invigorating all of the Wolves in their turn.

“We’re ready, Prince.” Gideon, dressed in silver armor, appeared before long, his sword in hand, zeal clear upon his face. “Lead the way.”

“Prince…” Josephine bowed too, her face inscrutable as her pride mingled with her respect.

I looked back out towards the Minotaurs, to where they were approaching one by one against the darkness of the shadows and the cold, eerie light of the moon.

Let them come, I thought to myself.

Chapter 7

The night air was alive with howls. The sound was piercing, intoxicating, exhilarating and terrifying. The sound of ten thousand wolves calling to arms their fellow brothers and sisters, ready to fight, ready to die. My ears stung at the sound – the agonizing and yet beautiful sounds of howls that echoed and reverberated off the walls. They all howled one familiar cry – the Wolf call to battle. But, my heart pounding within my chest, my whole body trembling with excitement, my whole being alive with the power that I knew I wield, I would make a different call. I made my way to the very top of the cavern complex, to the top of the cliff which served as a barrier between the Wolves and their enemies, barely even conscious of transitioning once more into my lupine form. My fur was thicker than usual; it shone with a strange light as I lifted up my muzzle to the stars and howled. A Calling. To the woman I loved – to the men I trusted, for whom I would lay down my life. Asking them to lay down their lives for me. Asking them to come hither, to help us fight, to help us win. For I knew Breena, at least, would recognize the tenor of my call – perhaps Alistair too. The Frost Fire Knights of Feyland. I closed my eyes as I pictured Breena as I had so longed to see her for so many days – beautiful and resplendent on her steed, her skin dewy and glowing from her ride, her face flushed from battle, that high nobility I knew all too well reflected in every aspect of her gaze. As I closed my eyes, allowing my howls to get louder and louder, stronger and stronger, I gave myself over to fantasies, to the mental image of Breena coming with her Fey army behind her. The army of the United Feyland.

For so long, as a child, I had dreamed of a United Feyland. A Feyland of peace – of prosperity, where Winter and Summer were no longer at odds with one another. And yet now, the thought of that banner filled me with a cold chill. For the United Feyland banner, the flag that represented the melding of Summer and Winter, also represented another union: the joining of Summer and Winter meant the marriage of the Winter Prince and the Summer Queen, of my Breena and the Kian whom I could never be, never live up to, in her eyes.

I called, and called, and called again. To everyone I could think of. To the young and proud Alistair, my brave young friend from Autumn Springs. To my allies, to my friends. To the Dukes and Counts of all the different provinces under fey dominion. Praying that one of them would hear me, would recognize my call, and would come to our aid…

I had made my choice. A choice that had risked the lives of so many fine and brave Wolves. And now I’d have to live with it. To defeat the Minotaurs – or die with the blood of Josephine’s clan upon my paws. I swallowed, hard, as I scanned the horizon for any sign of recognition, any hope of deliverance.

“Come on, then!” Josephine interrupted me from my reverie. She was in human form, now, striking not only for her beauty but for the aura of power and confidence she exuded. While I knew she doubted in her heart the efficacy of my plan to stay and fight, she’d never let on – not in front of the Wolves who relied on her to lead the way. I scanned the Wolves who had followed her, mentally selecting a second- and third-in-command from the pack, recognizing those who had distinguished themselves in battle with the Giantess. In case I fall. I didn’t want to think about that. In case Josephine falls. The pack would need a leader.

I stepped close, leaning in to whisper into one of the young women’s ears. “No talking,” I said. “Once we’re out there – they might intercept our plans. We’ll only be able to communicate in howls.” Which meant less complex strategy, and more simple aggression. The Wolf nodded curtly at me and looked down, her eyes filled with steely resignation. We were going to fight this thing – we knew it, all of us. And we had no choice but to win.

We were interrupted by the sound of a bugle, echoing distantly on the horizon. I looked up with surprise, excitement flowing through me. I recognized the sound – the music was a familiar one. It was the call of a Fairy Horn – of the army of Autumn Springs. I broke into a wide smile as hope washed over me. They were coming – they were on their way! Help was arriving!

“We want to sneak through the tunnels,” I told the wolves. “Preserve the element of surprise. They’re expecting to storm the main entrance – but we can sneak behind them into the woods, then take them on from behind.”

The wolves nodded approvingly at the plan.

“Not all in one group,” I said warningly, “we don’t want to give away our plan. Let’s divide into groups of ten – each one can take a different path to one of the secret exits.”

Gideon stepped forth. “I know one hidden exit,” he said. “I can take you there.” I saw him shoot a look over at Josephine, hoping she would say something to admire his bravery, but she seemed not to notice that he was there.

“This had better work,” said Josephine, taking my hand and shaking it.

I felt the weight of the Wolfstone in my pocket and mentally prayed that it would give me strength.

“It will,” I said, pressing her hand. Gideon shot me an aggrieved look, but I did my best to ignore it.

“Leave some old pelts in the front room,” said Josephine. “Fool them into tracking the scent – let them think we’re still here.”

I shuddered. Hoarding the pelts of slain enemies was an old Wolfish custom, but not one I’d ever been able to stomach. Still, a group of five young Wolves headed towards the Great Hall, where the pelts were on display along with other trophies.

“Let’s go,” said Gideon, taking my hand and leading us down through a secret tunnel that wound beneath the earth before snaking upwards into a forest glen observed by trees. He put a finger to his lips as we all hid behind one of the massive trunks, peering through the leaves.

We saw the backs of the Minotaurs, heading towards the main entrance of Josephine’s lair. There must have been at least one hundred of them, if not two. Yes, Josephine was right – they were definitely prepared for battle. Armor, swords, the works. But why? And how? Nobody knew about my Wolfstone – I’d made sure of that. How did they know we had it?

I couldn’t think about that now. I had to focus on the fight. My heart was pounding so loud that I felt sure that the Minotaurs would hear it and seize us. But they headed like a single hulking creature towards the lair.

Their leader entered.

His cry of rage split open the night, as he returned from the entry hall, the wolf pelt in his hands.

“Now!” My voice was not my own. It seemed to come from some part of me I did not know and could not understand – a force beyond my conscious mind.

Then blood was everywhere. My blood and theirs. We ripped our teeth into their flesh; we tore their throats from their bodies with our bare hands. We gave ourselves over to these paroxysms of violence, allowing bloodlust and anger to carry us away.

The Minotaurs were stronger than we were; there was no doubt about that. I saw ten Wolves fall in as many seconds – wolves I recognized, wolves I knew. I saw Cat tossed back against a tree branch and crumple; I opened my mouth to call out her name but could only muster a howl.

But the element of surprise had given us time. A few seconds – just enough time for us to kill ten or twenty of theirs. But it was enough – enough to balance things out.

We had to keep fighting now. We had to keep it up. We couldn’t give up – not now, not yet. Through the haze of blood I saw one wolf begin to run – the first retreat.

Instantly I was chasing after him, forgetting the Minotaurs, transforming into a human just long enough to pick him up by the nape of his neck.

“You fight this battle,” I roared, rage taking over. “Or you die trying…”

“It’s hopeless…” The Wolf morphed into a human in my hand, shivering with fear. “They’ll kill us all. They’re so much bigger than us.”

It was harder to look into his human eyes than it was to see him as a Wolf. For a moment, I thought about wavering, about letting him go, rush into the night and his uncertain safety. But I found that I could not bring myself to do it. I had to keep us all together – I knew that as soon as one Wolf deserted, the rest of them would soon follow – a rush of defeat that would make the sacrifices of the dead a vain folly.

“I don’t care,” I said. “We have our skills – we have our strength. No Wolf wants to die a coward. If you run, I’ll get you before the Minotaurs do, I can promise you that.”

The look in his eyes haunted me as he morphed back into a wolf, shaking as he ran back into the battlefield

A howl echoed across the plain, and I turned to see another Wolf pack – one I recognized as affiliated via treaty with Josephine, appearing before me. And then I heard them.

Horses.

The galloping that meant the fairies had arrived.

My heart leapt.

We were saved.

Chapter 8

They were terribly, painfully beautiful. Despite my jealousy of Kian, despite my natural suspicion of the Fey as a people, I couldn’t deny that fairies were among the most beautiful creatures on earth. Similar in size and shape to humans, the Fey nevertheless had something utterly otherworldly about them, something that made them so obviously distinct from their mortal counterparts. A slight difference in the way they moved – in the way they sat so proudly astride their horses. I felt an involuntary twinge of envy as I stared into their bright, gold-flecked eyes. I couldn’t help thinking of Kian, although as far as I could tell the Winter Prince was not among the numbers of those I saw riding towards us. These were the fairies whose beauty had attracted Breena to their world – the people who for centuries had been our overlords, our leaders. We Wolves felt keenly without our blood the shame of the absence of our magic, and seeing the fairies riding in to save us was bittersweet. At once, it was a promise of hope and a bitter reminder that we could not fight this fight alone. I grimaced as I looked up at the fairy knights, trying to swallow down my bitterness. Would there ever be a time when the beauty of the Fey did not remind me of Breena’s swan-like neck, of her bright and soulful eyes, of the piercing gaze of Kian who had taken her from me?

But I couldn’t think about that right now. I had to forget – forget the pain that welled up like tears in my heart. I could spy Alistair on the horizon, his long golden-red hair glistening in the moonlight, his men at his back. I remembered Alistair as an innocent and naïve young boy, but the youth who approached me now was self-assured; he was confident. He was very much a man of action.

Immediately the battle exploded into a chaos of bloodlust. The fairies swooped down in graceful, measured gestures, their swords glinting beneath the light of the stars as they made their way into the throats and hearts of the Minotaurs. We had outnumbered them now, that much was certain, and the Fairies were evidently far stronger than they were – far stronger, too, than we were. Golden flashes of light sparked in the distance – the bright light of magic that illuminated the sky and turned it a pale robin’s egg blue, if only for an instant.

Yes, I thought – magic. That which the Fey possessed – and which we lacked. That thing which set us apart from the Fey who were by our birthright our brothers – that which meant that I would never be good enough for Breena. That we, as Wolves, would never be good enough to dwell in the Fey cities of Summer and Winter, no matter what Breena said. I swallowed hard as I watched the silver and golden bursts of light explode, one after another, as the fairies sent fireball after fireball hurtling into the path of the Minotaurs.

The Minotaurs were howling, screaming, their bodies broken by the power of Fey magic. Fifty Fey knights were more than a match for the hundred-odd Minotaurs, especially with two hundred Wolves fighting alongside them.

I scanned the crowd for the sight of her – for my love, for my Breena. My heart leaped as I caught sight of one dark-eyed brunette, her face temporarily obscured from my gaze by her broad sword, raised above her head, but as she turned I saw with a pang that it was not my Breena. I looked around wildly, my whole body aching for her, my mind little more than a blur of hazy images. But she was not there. The hole in my heart – the hole that had been growing ever since the spell broke and she left me all alone – seemed to grow a little wider, and I knew then that I’d rather have a Minotaur’s horn goring straight through my heart than spend another moment in this agony. But I had a job to do; I had a mission. The Wolves relied on me to lead them – the mysterious man named Connell, who had given me the Wolfstone relied on me, too, to stay strong as their leader. And so I’d have to bear the pain of my loss as bravely as the Wolfish soldiers bore the wounds of their wars.

At last, as dawn first began to crackle on the horizon, I caught sight of the Minotaur King, marked by the double gold crown he wore set upon his horns, making his way towards us, dropping to his knees and bowing deeply so that his horns touch the ground.

“Enough!” he bellowed, his ox-like voice echoing across the sky. “We surrender. I do not wish to look upon the deaths of any more of my men.”

His words surprised me. Something about hearing human sounds coming from the bullish mouth of these creatures felt strange to me – even as I knew we Wolves had the same skill. I wasn’t used to thinking of the Minotaurs as, if not human, then at least people. For a moment I almost felt sorry for the Minotaur King, thinking of the bulls he had lost today. But then I caught sight of our own Wolf corpses, scattered across the battlefield, bleeding into the earth with the red blood that set us apart from our Fairy brethren, and I knew that my sympathies weren’t exactly well-placed.

Everything had gone still; everyone was looking over at me. It took me a second to figure out why. And then it hit me. I was the leader. It was my job to respond – to decide what to do. Whether I would kill the Minotaur King or show mercy and let him live. Whether I would spare those who surrendered or consign them to the slaughter. Both were valid options, in the cruel world of battle; nobody – least of all Josephine – would object to me slaughtering the lot of them, vengeance for the cubs we had lost. But something soft – almost noble – in the Minotaur’s eyes caused me to hold back. Even the thought of poor Cat, lost to us forever beneath the shadow of that forest pine, though it roused me to terrible anger, could not force me to slaughter this beast who knelt down at my feet, so vulnerable in his fear, his pain.

He had suffered loss, too. I could not condemn him. I could not kill him. I kept my voice as steady as I could as I strode up to him and looked down at him. “Why are you here?”

“For my people,” he said, without looking up.

“What do you mean?”

“I know what you’re planning.” His voice was calm and he kept staring straight at the ground. “I know what you intend to do with us.”

“What are you talking about?” I intended no such thing. “We have no designs against the Minotaurs. I have held to my treaty – the Wolves all have kept their word. We are honorable creatures and want only peace with the Minotaur.”

“Lies!” cried the Minotaur King, his voice beginning to shake with emotion. “I know the truth. My seers had visions – they saw what was to come. What would happen when the magic of the Wolf King was restored? Our territory decimated. Our armies destroyed. Our rivers red with blood. Our horns torn forcibly from our heads. I know that the Wolf Fey will regain their magic – and I, too, know what will happen when they do. I know what powers you hold here.”

“Powers?” My jaw dropped. Did he mean the Wolfstone? I had spent so long focused on the dangers to the Wolves – on the power that we might regain if only we could fend off invaders – which I hadn’t even stopped to think about what we would do if we got our powers back. Would we turn as cold and proud and warlike as the Fey, whose battles had destroyed so many? Would we give into the worst of our human qualities – becoming willing to destroy for a slice of land, kill for a few acres of new territory? I looked over at Josephine, at her harsh, placid face, and I wondered what magic would do for her. Would it make her stronger – or simply enhance her ruthlessness further?

It hit me all at once. I had to get out. I had to escape. I had to run. My heart began to pound furiously; my whole body ached with the pain in my heart. My breath grew short; I tasted metal on my tongue. “Go,” I said, my voice hollow. “Take the rest of your men and go home. Do not bother us again or the war will be worse, next time. Do not defy me – get out of here!”

I saw Josephine looking up at me with surprise. Evidently she had not expected me to show mercy. But there was no taking it back now – what was done was done. I had spared the Minotaur.

And then I was running – running through the trees, feeling the branches against my skin, desperate to get away, to take the Wolfstone away – away from Josephine’s clan, from the battles, from the war, from the danger I had brought upon the Wolves, this plague I had accidentally brought to their doorstep. I had to run. Whether Josephine got hold of the stone or the Minotaurs or Giants did, the outcome could be only one thing: catastrophe.

I couldn’t take Josephine with me; I couldn’t trust any of the other Wolves. I had to do this one on my own.

“Wait!” I heard a voice calling out after me – Josephine’s. “Wait – Logan – where are you going?”

I ran faster, but I was no match for her speed and agility. Soon Josephine had caught up with me, and was looking at me angrily, standing in human form with her hands on her hips.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She looked at me with rage on her face. “Just leaving us here?”

“I know it’s hard to understand,” I said, fumbling for the words. “But it’s complicated. There’s…something I have to do.”

“Like what?” Josephine didn’t look convinced. “What could be so important that you leave behind your clan once again? Breena?”

Her name cut like a diamond into my heart. “No,” I said, looking down. “Not Breena. It isn’t that.”

“What then?”

“It’s…to do with the magic of the Wolves,” I said, looking down. “I can’t explain – I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. But I think I’m supposed to do something. Something that’s part of my destiny. And I can’t do it here, with you, with the other wolves. It’s something I need to figure out by myself.”

“The Wolf Magic?” Josephine looked confused. “That old fairy tale?”

“Trust me, Josephine,” I said. “I’d tell you if I could.”

After a painfully long pause, she relented, nodding slowly. “You are the Wolf Prince,” she said, her voice wavering. ‘And when your father steps down – as no doubt he will do soon – you will be King. It will be a different world you inherit than your Father. For him, it was easy to cross between the Mortal and Immortal Worlds, to swim across the Crystal River. But it will not be so for us. It is getting harder and harder to cross – this I know. You will be forced to decide which land is your domain. And I…” her voice cracked. “I’ll just have to trust you, I suppose.”

“You can trust me, Josephine,” I said, taking her hand.

“Are your loyalties with us, Logan?”

“You know they are.”

“Your grandfather was like you,” she said. “Enamored of the Fey. Believing that we could go back to being Fey too, one day. Perhaps he was a wise man. Or perhaps he was a fool, I don’t know. But I do know that I could always trust him. So I’ll have to extend you that same faith. I will take care of your lair while you are gone.” She nodded. “I’m sure you’ve seen how your wolves and mine get along so well.”

I blushed as I recalled the half-naked men and women cavorting in Josephine’s Great Hall.

“Yeah, seems like it,” I said.

“Whatever you’re doing, Logan,” said Josephine. “I sure hope it’s worth it.”

“Yeah,” I said, avoiding her gaze. “I hope so too.”

And with that we shook hands and I left her, bounding once more into the night.

Chapter 9

I ran for what seemed like days – my body aching with the effort. Sweat stained my fur; I panted, my wolfish tongue lolling out of my muzzle, trying to will away my exhaustion. But at last, as the afternoon sky painted the hills of autumn gold and red, a veil of astonishing beauty that took what little breath remained in my lungs away as awe overtook me. Not even my fear, not even my melancholy, could blind me to the beauty of Feyland. The grass and flowers shimmered like gemstones before me; the sky was the crisp, cool blue that not even the deepest ocean can rival for richness.

As I stopped to take in my surroundings, I noticed that I was parched. I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since the banquet in Josephine’s Great Hall, and now my whole body craved water. My tongue was dry; my mouth was like sandpaper. I scanned the horizon for a river or a stream; in the distance, my eye caught the crystal glint of what looked like a mirror, laid like glass into a nearby hill. I made my way towards it, salivating at the thought of the cold, clear water of Feyland – sweeter than any juice in the mortal world – entering past my lips.

When I saw the pool of water I all but jumped in headlong, dunking my head underwater, soaking my fur as I drank down refreshing gulps of the delicious nectar, feeling life and energy return to my limbs at last. I howled with joy as I rolled about in the meadow, giving into my wolfish instinct to play and frolic for a few minutes as the water restored my strength and revived my vigor. I rolled over the grass, drying my fur against the sun-warmed patches of the field, and then jumped to my feet, ready to return to my journey thus invigorated.

And that’s when I saw her. The beautiful image – slightly translucent and yet hauntingly gorgeous – of Breena, reflected in the pool.

I whirled around, my heart galloping, but to my shock there was nobody there.

“Breena?” I called softly, and the wind carried my voice into silence. But I heard no answer. “Breena?” I called again, louder this time. Only silence greeted me.

I turned back to the pool, and my mouth fell open. Breena’s image was still there, reflected as clearly in the waters as if she were standing right next to me. Her loveliness shocked me, even know. A more cynical lover might have thought that after all this time by her side, I’d grow used to her beauty, to the tresses of chestnut hair that fell down her back, to those glorious eyes – whose color seemed to change with the seasons – to that delicate nose and that strong jaw that suggested defiance, power, the bearing of a Queen. But every time I saw her it hit me as if I was seeing her for the first time. Every time I saw her I gave myself over to that love.

Keening softly, my wolfish throat unable to avoid admitting my love, I crept forward to the pool to watch her. To my surprise, the closer I got, the more I saw – not only Breena, but the whole of the Winter Palace, the marble and silver decorations, chillingly opulent, that marked the throne room of the late Winter Queen. Kian was sitting upon the throne – and at the sight of his painfully chiseled features, I felt a pang of jealousy.

Was this magic? Somehow, this pool was allowing me to see into Breena’s life. I felt a warmth in the bag I wore strapped to my body at all times – a strange glow from where the Wolfstone was safely tucked away, a red light that shone through the canvas of the bag.

The Wolfstone wanted me to see her.

It was bittersweet, looking at her like this. Missing her – feeling so close to her – and yet reminded, always, of the distance between us.

And then a voice – soft, at first, and then increasingly audible – seemed to emerge from the pool. It was distorted – as if it was coming from under the water itself – but I would have recognized those melodious tones anywhere. It was Breena, and she was speaking to Kian, her voice tinged with concern.

“I know that howl,” she was saying. “That’s Logan. Something’s wrong. Something’s happened.”

My heart leaped within my chest. So she did still think of me! She did recognize my voice even now.

Kian furrowed his brow as he nodded, frowning. “Danger?”

“Whatever it is,” Breena said, her voice light but grave, “we need to find him. I know that cry – it means he’s in trouble. We’ve got to go help him.”

I felt a grim sense of satisfaction as I watched a look of jealousy flit over Kian’s perfect face. At least he still worried about her feelings for me – some small relief, I thought, even as I chided myself for my petty bitterness.

“Yes,” Kian said at last, his face resigned. “Whatever you want, my love.” The my love pieced my heart, but I did not look away. “Logan is a good soldier – and a good friend. We owe him our lives many times over – just tell me how I can help.”

“Summon twenty of our best knights,” said Breena. “I’ll change into my armor – you should change into yours. The voice was coming from the Northeast – we’ll ride in that direction until we catch wind of what this might be about.”

Kian nodded, bowing low. “As you wish, my darling,” he said, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips.

I withdrew my paw with shock as I felt cold lips upon it. I looked down, my eyes wide with confusion. It seemed that I was doing more than just seeing this scene – I was feeling it. Kian’s lips seemed to bore straight into me the way they had into her. I was feeling what Breena felt. Our minds were operating as one.

“Hurry!” said Breena, but she fell silent as the door to the Throne Room burst open.

“What is this?” Kian looked irritated. “I thought we said no visitors.”

“Please!” A villager – I did not recognize him, but knew him as Winter by his garments – had rushed forth, carrying what looked like an enormous bale of wheat in his arms. It was only when he grew closer that I realized what it was.

“Is that…?” Breena gasped.

“My son!” the villager began to weep – great, heavy sobs racking his frail body. “He’s sick – please – he’s so hungry. I’ve tried to feed him, give him everything I can, but it’s just not enough. His body needs strength….”

Kian and Breena turned to look at each other.

“What’s happened?” Breena looked concerned as she reached out and took the child into her arms. “Why does he have no food?”

“The suns are restored now,” said the villager, “but unfortunately that didn’t do much for our crops. Months of wheat and corn and grain have been wiped out – and there’s a shortage now – and we’re so hungry…”

Before Breena or Kian could react, another swarm of people burst through the doors, their cries and lamentations melding together in one single cacophony of grief. There was no food – the families were sick – the Winter lands’ crops weren’t enough to feed half the people in the Winter Provinces. Their cries seemed to cut Breena to the quick, and I felt her pain along with her, my own chest constricting with worry as tears appeared in Breena’s gleaming eyes.

“Kian…” she breathed. “What can we do for them?”

“I’ve heard that in Summer lands, the crops are better.” The old man’s tears were rolling down the edge of his nose. “That fruits and vegetables still grow there – and grass for the animals to graze on.”

“It’s true,” whispered Breena. “If crops are going to grow anywhere, they’ll grow in the Summer Kingdom.” She sighed. “My father will know what to do – he’s reigned as Summer King for a long time. I’m sure he’ll know…”

“You must go to him, Breena,” Kian took her hand. “Before it’s too late. I’ll have my alchemists attend to this young boy – and to anyone else who is sick. But you know as well as I it’s only a temporary measure. The only thing we can do that is of any use is to make sure the crops are growing once again…”

Breena nodded. “But what about Logan? He needs our help.”

“Don’t worry, my sweet.” Kian looked pained at the mention of my name, but remained calm. “I’ll send Alistair and the Frost Fire Knights in our stead. They’re brave and strong – you know that. They’ll help Logan, whatever trouble he’s in.”

He took her aside to a private chamber, where they could speak freely, and I immediately sensed Breena’s relief at being out of sight of all those people.

“I don’t know what to tell them, Kian,” her voice trembled. “This is serious, isn’t it?”

“I admit…” Kian began. “This kind of famine is unprecedented in Feyland, at least in my lifetime.”

Breena sighed.

And then I heard it. Her voice – echoing in my ears. But her lips didn’t move. I don’t know if I have enough magic in me to…do what they ask. To bring back the crops. These wars…. Kian showed no sign of recognition – whatever I was hearing, Kian hadn’t heard it. They’ve taken their toll on all of us. What if my magic isn’t what it was…?

“I’ll go to my father.” Breena’s voice wavered slightly as she looked up at Kian, putting on a mask of bravery. He was cradling her in his arms, pressing her against his chest.

What if I can’t do this? But Breena said nothing out loud.

I ached for her as I tried to reach her – tried somehow to make her hear all those words I wanted to say to her.

If anyone has that magic – it’s you. You’re one of the most powerful Fey I’ve ever known. Your goodness, your strength, it shines through. It gives you a magic that most Fey – even royal ones – can only dream of. I have faith in you, Breena. You’ve never let us down so far – and I’m convinced that you can do this. For Feyland. Feyland has chosen you – it must be for a reason…”

Every time I look at you, I see the strongest magic I have ever known. Shining in your eyes – like the twin suns of Feyland. I see a woman more powerful because of her goodness and her bravery than the greatest sorceress, or the strongest witch. I believe in you, Breena Malloy, my beloved, my bride. And I know you have what it takes.

Breena looked up in surprise – a strange recognition on her face. “Did you say something, Kian?”

“Nothing, my darling.”

“But…” She shook her head. “Never mind.” But a frown remained upon her lips.

“Come, my love,” Kian was saying. “Let me kiss you one last time before you go. Kian kissed her, and to my horror and surprise I could feel those lips on my own, as if Breena and I were one.

He kissed her again, and at last – unable to bear the pain of their embrace – I looked away. Immediately the connection between me and Breena dissolved. The pond was just a pond. The breeze was silent. I felt nothing against my lips, my hands. And the Wolfstone had stopped glowing.

I remained lying by the side of the pond, still shaken by what had happened. Why were Breena and I connected in this way? We’d known each other forever – but she and I had never bonded through telepathy before now. Telepathy, after all, only linked lovers – and Breena was spoken for.

Or was she? Breena was keeping her fears and insecurities from Kian – even as somehow I had been able to gain access to them.

My heart swelled with joy and hope. Could there be a future for the two of us after all?

Chapter 10

Exhaustion had taken hold of me at last. My aching muscles, burning with my efforts, had given way. My breath had slowed to a contented rhythm; my eyes had fallen shut as the two lids seemed to press together involuntarily; I could not force them open again. I wanted nothing more than to stay here, among the sweet-smelling flowers of red and gold and ruby and topaz, to dream so peacefully beneath the crisp blue sky, feeling the soft air blow against my skin, feeling my mind and body finally achieve something like quietude. After all, I’d experienced so little silence. Since losing Breena, my days and nights had been what seemed like an endless struggle, a race against the clock, a race against unseen enemies. I didn’t know what to do; I didn’t know where to turn. I had to outrun the Giantesses and the Minotaurs and the Wolves, outrun the stirrings of my own heart. The pain was overwhelming; so too was the longing I felt. And now, at last, I was in a place of peace. Able to think my thoughts without worrying about the Giantess over my shoulder.

Could it be? Images of Breena and Kian flitted through my mind as I recalled their conversation, recalled the way my mind seemed to pick up on her thoughts, the way we seemed to be connected through that telepathy that I thought only true love could provide. I had felt it. Felt something more than the normal connection which already tugged so violently at my heartstrings. I had heard her thoughts; I had seen into her mind. Heard the words that she had not even been able to speak aloud to Kian – words of fear and self-doubt that she had kept from him.

But why? As far as I knew – as much as it pained me to say it – Breena loved Kian fully, trusted him fully. She told him everything; she never kept anything back. But these doubts –this pain – this she kept from him. I racked my brains, trying to think of an answer. Was there trouble in paradise? Had Breena come to realize that her idealized love for Kian, as beautiful as it was, could never replace the solid friendship, built upon years of mutual trust, that she and I had together? I sighed, feeling tears sting at my eyes, as I recalled our life in the Land Beyond the Crystal River. How simple things were then! Coming home after school, spreading out the groceries on the kitchen counter as we spent hours cooking everything from burritos to eggplant parmesan, walking at twilight through the woods behind Breena’s house, feeling the dusky breeze blow upon our faces.

Life was so good, then. I had almost forgotten what it was like to be a Wolf; my time in the mortal world had let me experience human life so fully, so entirely, that during those months at Breena’s side I had almost forgotten my painful duties across the Crystal River. I had almost forgotten the sufferings of the Wolf Fey, the magic that we mourned as we had mourned it for centuries. I didn’t need magic when I was with Breena; her smile was magic enough for me.

But those days never would return! Breena was a creature of the Fey now – she had left behind the mortal world more completely and totally even than I had. She had no desire to return. Oh, but I did! Not to the human world, exactly, but to the world we’d shared. Our years of friendship. Our long walks through the forests. Our collections of pinecones and fir clippings and aromatic berries. The life we’d shared, we’d loved. Where we’d been so happy.

Did Breena miss it too, I wondered? Now that she was in her cold Winter Palace, cut off from the life she used to know, did she ever doubt whether she really belonged there, with a Prince who could never understand her human worries, human fears. Could never understand something as silly and prosaic as chopping up onions for a burrito atop a kitchen counter?

We had experienced a connection. The knowledge of that shook me through as I slipped away into sleep. We had experienced telepathy. And she had heard me, too! I’d seen her eyes shoot up, seen her look around in confusion, as I’d tried so desperately to whisper my words of love into her ears from so many miles away. She’d heard something – some small echo of my love. And that was enough to brighten her sparkling eyes and bring a smile to her rosebud lips.

Did she still love me?

Had she ever loved me?

The questions that had vexed every day of my existence thus far tormented me still. As sleep took hold of me at last, and Breena’s image appeared once before me as it always did, I saw a new phantasmagoric Breena slip into my arms. Not the seductress, stepping on the shards of my heart, whom I had seen for so many nights. But the Breena I had loved – the Breena I had missed. The Breena I had never had to feel guilty about loving – because once upon a time I’d been sure, so sure, that she’d loved me back.

I felt her body against mine, pressing against my naked flesh, her breasts firm and hard, her hands long and slender and so soft as they rubbed up and down my skin. I could smell her familiar smell – like rosewood – filling my nostrils with strange joy. I felt my arms wrap around her body, accustoming themselves to her contours; I felt myself become overwhelmed with joy as I had never been before. Somehow this experience, this dream, felt more real than any other – more vivid. My blood was boiling; my body was taut and tense with desire. I wanted her; she was here. I felt warm flesh encircled by the kneading heat of my fingers.

And then I woke up, my eyes fluttering open, and saw one caramel-colored shoulder pressed against my lips. I saw long wisps of chestnut hair trailed down her back. My whole body flooded with relief, with recognition. It was her. Her smell, her deliriously delicious scent. Her body. Her perfectly shaped frame; her firm muscles that spoke of battles and strength.

“Breena,” I heard myself murmur. “Breena….”

No, this can’t be happening. My mind began to combat my joy. She’s in the Summer Palace – you just saw her there. She can’t be with you. This must be a dream. But the body in my arms was no dream. She was heavy; she occupied space. She exuded heat. Breena’s form was every inch a reality.

You have to go, Logan. Go find Breena at the Summer Palace. Stop dreaming – she needs you to go to her. To give her courage – just as she gives you strength…

But I couldn’t listen to my inner voice right now – not now that Breena was in my arms.

“I missed you so much…” I murmured, shaking off the sleep. “I want you so badly.”

“Oh, Logan…” It was Breena’s voice. My heart leaped with joy as she turned towards me. “I missed you too.”

And then I froze. My whole body recoiled in disgust. Breena’s face was her own – everything, that was, except for the eyes. Those snake-like green eyes, at once beautiful and terrifying, that I recognized so well, that I had seen so often before.

No, it couldn’t be.

Clariss?

Those serpentine eyes were hers and hers alone.

“What’s going on?” I pulled back. “Who are you?”

“Shh….” The voice was soft and reassuring, almost motherly. “I’m me – don’t you know me?”

She put her palm up to her lips and blew outwards, sending sparkling shards of dust clear into my face in a single smoke-like pattern. I coughed and choked, my eyes tearing up with the sting, struggling against whatever it was I had just inhaled.

But when I looked up, those emerald-green eyes had vanished. I could only see Breena’s familiar hazel-green almost violet eyes, the eyes I loved so well.

I shook my head, confused. What had happened? A moment ago I had been terrified – I had been suspicious. But now….I could feel only joy. I must have been disoriented earlier – confused at finding Breena next to me at last.

She must have heard my voice. She must have sensed where I was. She has come to me – at last. She wants me – at last. She loves me – at last.

“I’ve missed you so much, Logan,” Breena was nuzzling my ear. “I’ve missed you for a long time; I just haven’t known how to express it. I want you so badly. Kian – he’s so kind, but he doesn’t see the real me. The me that needs to be vulnerable, sometimes. That needs to be open. I can be myself when I’m around you – all I want to do when I’m near you is let you hold me in your arms, your warm, strong arms, and kiss me and kiss me – and kiss me again…”

She closed her eyes as she embraced me, and I gave in. To the intoxicating power of her lips. Feeling her as I’d wanted to feel her for so long. Warm. Soft. Pliant. Against me.

It was all I’d ever wanted – to be near her. To be with her. And I was home at last.

Chapter 11

The smell of her overwhelmed me. That sweet, slightly peppery scent that combined the floral quality of light petals with something darker – mustier – a smell I still associated with desire. The smell of her I’d once woken up to every morning, gone to bed next to every evening – the smell of her sweat and of her kisses, of our two bodies tangling as one. As I kissed Breena, my mouth growing hungier and hungrier with each passing second, my movements becoming more and more fervent as I had to fight off the desire – bestial and profound – to devour her whole, I gave myself over to the greatest happiness I could have ever known. This is how it was always meant to be – I felt sure. Breena’s lips against mine. Her small hands twined around my fingers. Her eyes gazing so adoringly up at me.

Her eyes…my subconscious seemed to struggle against my present happiness. Something about her eyes… Whatever it was, I had forgotten it. It didn’t matter – could anything matter except the fact that Breena Malloy was lying in my arms at last?

And then I heard it. A shout – followed by another one – a clamor of voices getting louder and louder as they approached.

“What’s that?” I looked up groggily, but Breena pulled my head back down, pressing me against her lips.

“Don’t you worry, Logan,” she said, her smile creasing with laughter. “Don’t you worry about a thing. Let them be. Probably just some bandits looking for adventure.”

I could make out the voices now – make out distinct phrases. And then the sound of my name. Logan.

“They want me…” I tried to pull away, although it took every ounce of energy I had to separate myself from the deliriously enchanting taste of her. “I need to go to them. Maybe it’s more fairies.”

“So what?” Breena laughed. “The last thing we want is fairy gossip. Can’t we just stay here a bit longer? Stay happy?” Her bright eyes put me as surely under their spell as if they had been enchanted to do so. I smiled down at her before kissing her again.

“Just this once,” I conceded, “duty can wait.” I stroked her hair, my fingers brushing against her smooth, satiny cheeks. Relishing how she felt inside my arms. At once fragile and terribly, immeasurably small. At once someone to protect and someone to protect me. My equal, my one true love. My Breena.

“I knew you hadn’t stopped loving me!” Breena kissed my ear, my cheek, my neck. “I knew you hadn’t given up on me. And I’m so sorry – so sorry I hurt you, so sorry I made you wait. I just wasn’t sure until now – but now I know. You’re the one I want, Logan. Not Kian. Not Feyland – but my true friend. Someone I can trust with all sides of me. Someone I can open up to. And I know how much I’ve hurt you.”

Glassy diamond tears sparkled in a trail down her cheeks, but I wiped them away.

“Never mind, Breena,” I said, using my handkerchief to wipe the tears away, pressing the handkerchief to my nostrils as I inhaled her mesmerizing scent. “We’ll forget about all that. We’re here together now. We’re happy – at last.”

“No fairies – no potions – no spells…”

“No fairies…” I clutched her tighter, afraid at every moment that she’d vanish before me, reveal herself to be a mirage. But her flesh was true flesh; her body was a true body.

“Logan!” The voices had found us. “What in the name of the Twin Suns are you doing?”

I whirled around, irritated at the interruption. I turned scarlet as I caught sight of Alistair before me, along with the rest of the Frost Fire Knights. I knew them well – together we had fought off the Dark Hordes. Behind Alistair there stood many heroes I recognized from that adventure. There was Jeremy, a childhood friend of Kian’s from the Winter Kingdom, his ash-blonde hair almost white, his regal eyes – piercing silver in hue – tinged with tragedy. I knew the source of his melancholy. Jeremy had once been in love with a Summer daughter – that same forbidden union that had once kept Breena and Kian apart – but his story had not ended so happily. After being banished from his home by the Winter Queen, Jeremy had regained the Queen’s favor – but at a price. It was only the death of his former beloved, fighting at the Battle of the Silver Bridge, that had convinced the late Winter Queen to welcome him back into the fold – a bittersweet return from exile that Jeremy had never entirely embraced. To come home to the court now, I knew, was to profit from the death of his beloved – something an honorable man like Jeremy could never do. He had refused the Queen’s mercy, and instead remained on the fringes of the Winter lands, an itinerant soldier.

Next to him I spotted another familiar face – that of the vigorous centaur Cary, his hindquarters glistening with morning sweat. Like many centaurs, Cary held fast to the legends of old – the knightly lore and courtly poems that spoke of the days when centaurs rode across the hills of Feyland, proud to be famous as the most noble and chivalric of all of Feyland’s creatures. Cary, I knew, was something of a romantic, still speaking in a slightly archaic style, modeling his speech after that of the heroes he had read about in old centaur legends. I knew that for him, Frost Fire was more than just a political movement. It was a chance for him to recapture the adventurous allure of Feyland’s Golden Age.

Standing alongside them, his enormous horns glinting in the light of the morning sun, was another figure I knew all too well. While I instinctively recoiled from the bull-like head, recalling my battle a few hours earlier, this Minotaur was anything but dangerous. Half-human, half-bull, Barnaby was like me – a hybrid not merely of animal and human, but also of Feyland and the Land Beyond the Crystal River. Not that our situations were anything comparable – I, at least, could pass for human. Barnaby, on the other hand, had to be smuggled in as livestock every time he visited his mother’s house in Ohio, for otherwise no doubt his bull’s head would attract some undue attention. Still, I could relate to Barnaby. Our struggles – that of reconciling our animal natures with our human ones – were no doubt similar, and I often felt that Barnaby could understand my situation better than almost anyone I knew. Except, perhaps, for Breena.

The final member of the group that stood before me was a small, sprightly creature. Half-man, half-goat, with wiry legs and small, nubby horns, Pan had not been a soldier for long. Preferring tricks and jokes to rules of battle, Pan had always been a pleasure-seeker and a lover of good wine, unused to sleeping rough or getting injured in battle. But now that times were hard, Pan too had taken up the mantle of a United Feyland, putting his evening bottles of Autumn Springs nettle brandy on hold while he rode with Alistair and the other Frost Fire Knights across Feyland, attempting to aid in the restoration of the United Monarchy that had arisen after the peace between Winter and Summer.

I was happy to see them, of course, but also somewhat embarrassed. The news that Breena had left Kian probably hadn’t reached them yet – if she’d stolen out in the dead of night the way she’d imagined they would – and this certainly wasn’t how I wanted them to find out. I turned crimson as I hurriedly started putting my clothes back on.

“Look” I began. “I know this looks bad, but…”

“Are you insane?” Alistair was gaping at me. “How could you…”

“Breena and I have been in love for a long time…”

“Breena?” Pan put his hands on his hips before signaling to the others.

Instantly they were on top of me, dragging me out of Breena’s arms, separating us.

“Logan!” Her sweet voice echoed across the plains. “Logan, what’s happening?”

Their roughness had stoked my rage. “Unhand me!” I cried out, furious. “Unhand me – I command it! Or else I can guarantee that you will have the wrath of my blade to contend with.”

Alistair had placed two hands on my shoulders and began to shake me vigorously. “One day, Logan,” Alistair said, “I look forward to challenging you and seeing how you fare against the mettle of my sword. But today is not the day, Logan. Look at me.”

“Logan! Logan!” Breena was still calling for me, but Pan and Barnaby were fending her off.

“What are you doing?” I struggled, thrashing about, trying to escape from Alistair’s vice grip.

“He needs the dust,” said Cary, neighing as he rode up to Breena, causing her to stumble backwards.

Alistair removed a fistful of silver dust from his pocket, blowing it into my eyes.

“Hey!” I began to cough as the powder filled my mouth and nostrils as well as my eyes. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Look over there…,’ Alistair jerked my head around to face Breena. “Does that look familiar to you?”

My eyes widened with surprise as I turned my gaze back upon Breena. She was shaking, convulsing; her body seemed to blur and morph, changing shape, changing size, changing color.

“Breena!” I called out, wild with fear. “What are you doing to her?”

And then I saw it – saw her. Saw the figure that stood where Breena had been. Those cold emerald-green eyes with yellow flecks in them, like a snake’s skin. The eyes of the Sorceress Clariss.

For an instant she was beautiful – as lovely and haughty and strangely magnetic as she had ever been. But she kept on changing. Her skin began to wrinkle like leather; scales began to appear on her back and arms. Her face contorted and collapsed in on itself, until the beautiful woman had transformed into a malformed crone. Nothing remained of the Clariss I had known except for the eyes.

“Diamond dust,” said Alistair. “It shows you the truth of what you see.”

And what I was seeing before me was that Breena – my Breena – was only an illusion, a lie.

I had spent the night kissing Clariss.

Chapter 12

My mouth fell open. I was flabbergasted. My skin began to burn – the memory of Clariss’ touch seared into my flesh. For an instant – a brief but beautiful, glorious instant, I had been the happiest man in the world. I had believed – I had let myself believe – that Breena loved me, that she wanted me, to be near me, to kiss me, to hold me, to do everything with me that I had for so long dreamed of doing with her. I should have known – you fool! You should have guessed! My subconscious was screaming within my ears, roaring with animal rage. I should have guessed that Breena never would want me, never would love me, that this was just a trick of my imagination designed to plunge me deeper into the great torment of Breena’s absence. I cursed my own stupidity. How many times would I fall for the same trap – this my greatness weakness – the need to believe that Breena and I were somehow linked, somehow destined to be united.

Missing her was agony – this much I knew. The pain of her loss had been carved on my bones and inscribed on my heart. Every second I spent without her was some kind of suffering. I needed her; I craved her. And so I lied to myself. I let magic, with its myriad illusions, its enchantments, its spells, take over – because it was better to fool myself a hundred times into thinking that Breena loved me than spend another hundred seconds missing her. Even this agony, the realization – like that of awakening from a dream – that it had only been an illusion – was better than the alternative: to have spent another night dreaming so vainly of her. I flushed at the realization – that not only had Clariss’ trick worked, but also that I had wanted it to work. I had invited the lie.

“What a fool I am,” I growled.

“And to think…” Alistair turned towards Clariss, who was snarling at us, her face bestial with hatred. “This is what Clariss truly looks like – deep down. Not the beautiful woman we know. A monster.” He took a step towards Clariss. “That’s what you are, after all. A monster. Tricking poor Logan here.”

Clariss let out a roar. “He wanted to be tricked – didn’t you, Logan? Your body craved mine – I could feel it.”

“You witch!” Cary cried. “Logan would never go for you if he’d known the truth. That’s why you have to resort to trickery –to lies. To disguise your real ugliness.”

His words evidently stung Clariss. Anger flared across her face – along with a look, a momentary glance, of something like sadness. I had to admit I was surprised. I didn’t think Clariss capable of real feelings.

“What do you want, Clariss?” I tried to steady my voice, to mask the pain she’d made me feel.

“I want you, Lover,” she crooned slowly. “But if you won’t have me, I guess I’ll have to kill you instead.”

“Stand back!” Alistair cried, knocking me backwards just in time for us to dodge a lightning bolt that burst with a bang from Clariss’ fingertips.

“Watch it!” Barnaby roared, lowering his head, his horns glinting and sharp as he made a rush towards Clariss.

She side-stepped him, but not fast enough, and a slimy trail of pond-green blood appeared at Clariss’ side where he had scratched her.

“Ow!” Her voice was the pouty insubordination of a teenaged girl. “That hurt!” Even in her monstrous form, I could see traces of her former seductive smile as she curled her lips into a bitter grin. “Never mind,” she said. “I’ll get you for this.”

“Not if we get you first!” A whistle echoed as Cary threw his trusty boomerang at her; it caught on one of her sleeves and sliced the fabric cleanly from her body as it returned to Cary’s hand, like a dog to its master.

“Now that’s something I don’t want to see,” Alistair said, grinning, as he grimaced at the sight of Clariss’ green, scaly skin.

“You dare mock me!” Clariss reared up furiously. But Cary and Alistair only smiled.

I couldn’t help smiling too. There was always something of the boyish jester in Alistair – in all of us. When we were together, fighting, we were more than just soldiers. We were a merry band, like Robin Hood’s men or the Three Musketeers.

Perhaps this too was a kind of happiness. I wasn’t free. I wasn’t out of love with Breena. But at least I had my friends – my noble brothers-at-arms, to rely on. At least, I figured, it was something.

“Hurry up, slowpoke,” Alistair said to me as he shot a bolt of orange light straight at Clariss. “We haven’t got all day.”

“We’ve got to defeat her or get out of here before she gets really angry.” Cary said, picking up a bow and shooting arrows at Clariss, two of which hit true, causing green blood to pour down from her shoulders. “And we definitely don’t want to see her when she’s angry.”

“You can say that again,” said Barnaby.

I turned to Cary. “What happens when she’s really angry?”

“That!” Jeremy pointed a finger at Clariss. She was morphing this time – but not back into the beautiful young girl I remembered. The scales grew harder and more gleaming; her torso grew longer. Her limbs seemed to retract into her body. Clariss was transforming into a snake before our very eyes. She reared up, fangs glinting, her tongue forking into two as she stared at us with malicious hatred.

“Watch out!” called Alistair as the serpent got bigger and bigger, expanding until the crest of her head was taller even than the surrounding trees.

“I think this calls for a RUN!” shouted Cary, galloping at full speed away. Instantly I morphed into a wolf, following after him, while Alistair, Jeremy and Barnaby brought up the rear. The snake wove through the trees, but we were able to dodge her, running around in circles until Clariss had tangled herself on the tree trunks. We zigzagged through the forest, our chests pounding with a curious combination of fear and exhilaration, running as fast as we could towards safety.

At last we heard a thundering cry in the distance – the cry of Clariss’ defeat – as we spied on the horizon Clariss’ tangled, knotted form.

“I’ll get you next time,” she bellowed, “don’t you doubt my powerss-s—s-s-s-s-….”

“Next time!” called back Jeremy, and at last we collapsed in a single heap by the side of a river, sweaty and exhausted. We laughed softly, joking about the adventure.

“Aren’t you so glad that we just so happened to be in the neighborhood?” Cary grinned at me with an impish look.

“I’m not so sure that he is,” Pan raised an eyebrow. “After all, it looks like you were having a mighty good time with the Sorceress before we turned up.”

“She enchanted me…” I avoided his gaze. “I thought she was someone else.”

That was enough to knock them silent. Me falling prey to a beautiful woman was a subject for mockery – but me falling prey to my love for Breena – everybody knew that some subjects were too painful to be joked about. She was one of us, too…along with Kian, a Frost Fire Knight. When the Frost Fire Knights had formed, Breena and I had been engaged – they remembered how happy we had been, once upon a time. And they knew the suffering I was experiencing now.

“I’ll – uh – set up camp,” said Alistair, and the other knights rushed to his side, eager to start acting busy.

“Yeah, me too!” Cary neighed and reared up on his hind legs.

“Me too!” chimed in Barnaby.

Only Jeremy stayed by my side.

“Listen,” he said softly. “I know it’s not easy, okay? I’ve been there, too.” He patted me shoulder.

“Not great, is it?” I tried to smile and joke, but we both knew the pain wouldn’t evaporate that easily.

“No,” conceded Jeremy. “Not great. But it does get easier – I promise you. I mean, I know in my heart that I’ll never forget her…” He fell silent and I knew he was thinking of the girl he lost – of the girl he once loved. “But I also know I have to move on. That that’s what she would have wanted.”

“How long did it take you?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking. “Before you were able to move on? Before you were able to make the pain stop.”

Jeremy fell silent. “A few years,” he said at last. “And even now, I wouldn’t say it’s gone. It’s just…easier to manage, somehow. You get used to it.” He turned away.

Alistair interrupted our conversation, sauntering over with a broad smile on his face. Evidently, his attempt to cheer me up was far more an effort at distraction than at understanding or sympathy. “Hey Wolfman,” he said, slapping me broadly on the shoulder.  “That was two incredibly close calls in one day, eh? First the Minotaurs, then Clariss? When are we going to get a well-deserved rest?”

“Not anytime soon, I gather,” I said, only half-bitterly.

“Oh, well,” Alistair laughed. “We’re warriors, right? Not made for sitting still for too long.” He paused. “I wanted to explain,” he said. “Why Kian and Breena weren’t there. I know you must be wondering why they didn’t come to your aid – and believe me, I know they wanted to come, they would have if they could…”

“I know,” I said.

“You know?” Alistair looked confused. “How?”

“Magic,” I grinned back at him. “I saw it – saw it all. That pool where I was staying – it was like I was looking into a window into Breena and Kian’s lives. I saw the whole thing play out before my eyes.”

Alistair gaped with surprise. “That’s some pretty serious magic right there,” he said. “You don’t think…”

“What?”

“Fey magic?” Alistair’s smile twisted slightly. “I mean – there are rumors that Wolves were once Fey – that they have some magic within them…”

“I don’t know,” I said, wanting to change the subject before he started asking questions about a Wolfstone. “Maybe it was just an enchanted pool. Or maybe…I don’t know…I wanted to see her so badly that…”

“A telepathic connection?” Alistair confirmed my secret hope. “That’s – pretty big.”

“Yeah, you can tell me about it.”

“I know you and Breena are friends – but telepathy doesn’t happen between ‘just friends’. It happens when a connection is really – really strong.”

“Like with you and Rose?”

Alistair turned crimson. “Love-magic,” he said. “It’s terribly complicated.”

“And terribly human,” I added.

Alistair nodded. “How can the most human thing of all end up being the most powerful magic of all?”

I shrugged. “Maybe there’s magic even the Fey don’t understand.”

As if roused by my speech, the Wolfstone began to heat up in my pocket.

Perhaps there is magic even the Fey don’t understand.

Chapter 13

I quickly put my hands in front of my pocket, flushing. The last thing I wanted was for Alistair or any of the other Frost Fire Knights to get wind of the fact that I had the Wolfstone. Knowing what I knew about its dangers, let alone its powers, I knew that the fewer people that knew about the Wolfstone and what it could do, the better. And as much as I trusted Alistair, part of me couldn’t help wondering – how would the Fey feel about the Wolves getting their magic back? Would they accept us as brothers or be threatened by our newfound powers?

I tried to wave away my distrust. I was being silly, I told myself; Alistair was like a brother to me; I could trust him. But deep down I felt a strange sense of worry. I wasn’t like him – or like Jeremy – or like Kian. I didn’t possess any magical powers beyond my ability to transform. And who knows what loyalties would be revealed, what prejudices would be made plain, if the secret of the Wolfstone got out? I looked at Alistair’s wide, trusting face, his bright eyes beaming at me with friendly affection, and I felt half-ashamed of my suspicions. But with something as important as the Wolfstone, I couldn’t take any risks. I hadn’t even told Josephine, my own cousin, about the Wolfstone; I wasn’t about to start blabbing about its magic all over Feyland.

“Come on,” said Alistair, “I don’t know about you, but my stomach’s been grumbling for hours.”

As if in response, my own belly began to growl, and I became newly conscious of my own hunger.

Cary held up his bow. “How about I go track down some game fowl?” he said. “You two can start building the fire. We’re not going to get back to the Summer Lands or Winter Lands tonight, in any case, so we might as well camp here, near a water source.”

Barnaby nodded. “I’ll set up the tent,” he said, going off with Pan to prepare our lodgings for the evening.

Alistair and I knelt by the fire and began to rub together flint stones, creating a spark.

“Here,” Alistair said. “Let me do that.” He pointed his fingertips at the collection of twigs and branches we’d put together and an orange light burst into flames.

“I could have done that, you know?” I said, unable to resist a slight sullenness. “The non-magical way.” I made a spark with two stones, for emphasis.

“Right…” Alistair looked a little embarrassed. “Sorry – I didn’t think.”

“It’s fine,” I said quickly. Too quickly. My face turned red and I looked down. Don’t be so sensitive, Logan, I tried to tell myself. He’s just trying to help. But it was just another reminder of what he could do and I could not, of the magic that he possessed and that I never would. I tried to ignore the subtle sense of shame that crept in as I watched the fire burn and as I leaned into its warmth. Yet something else the fairies can do which I cannot do. Yet another thing that divides us.

Luckily, Cary was able to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation. “How time flies,” he neighed as he approached with some fresh meat slung over his back. “It seems like only yesterday that we were fighting off the Dark Hordes!”

“Dark Hordes?” Alistair laughed. “It seems like yesterday we were fighting the Pixies. And allies or not – I still don’t trust them. But the time has gone so swiftly. So much has changed in Feyland. Growing up, I thought Summer and Winter would be at war forever – or at least, until one defeated the other…”

“But now there are new dangers,” interjected Cary. “It’s not like everything’s fixed. The Dark Hordes may be gone, but even with the sun restored there’s plenty of work to be done.”

Alistair nodded. “Especially in the Winter Kingdom. Crops were never as plentiful as they were in the Summer lands, but even so they were always able to support themselves. Not any longer. Winter will be dependent on Summer’s mercy this season, I guarantee it.”

“And will they take kindly to that?” asked Cary.

“The fairies are allied now,” said Alistair, shrugging. “Feyland is united. They have no choice. One day, things will be better for Feyland – Summer and Winter will both be fertile. But for now, necessity will hasten the reunification, I think.”

“So we can pay attention to more pressing matters,” Cary replied. “Like those nasty Minotaurs – no offense, Barnaby.”

“None taken,” Barnaby said. “I know we don’t exactly have a sparkling record when it comes to violence. But I like to think the younger generation of Minotaurs is far more willing to behave peacefully than our parents. Many of us are half-breeds, after all – we’ve been exposed to a different way of life.”

“Idealistic,” said Cary. “You don’t see too many centaurs embracing change…”

“But even so,” Alistair shot in. “The Minotaurs are a threat. Good thing we heard Logan’s call.”

I smiled weakly. “I wasn’t so sure you’d come,” I admitted.

“What are you talking about?” Cary shot me a look of mock horror. “You didn’t trust us? You’re our brother, our sworn ally. We trust you just as you trust us! We’d never leave you to fight without us!’

“We don’t want you to get all the glory!” Alistair laughed. “We want our share of the action, too!”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at Alistair’s droll expression.

“So,” said Jeremy, joining us. “Where were you headed, anyway, Logan?”

I wasn’t sure how to respond – after all, I wasn’t even sure myself where I was going. I was following the call of the Wolfstone – going wherever it took me. Wherever my legs went of their own accord. In search of Three Sisters who might not even be real. A folly, to be sure!

“I, uh,” I began, faltering. “I just needed to get away, that’s all.”

“Away?” Jeremy leaned in. “But who were you trying to get away from?”

“Not us?” Pan looked at me.

“No – from the Wolves.” I said. “There’s something I have to do for them. I’m not quite sure what it is.”

Alistair laughed. “Typical Feyland,” he said. “Everyone’s always on one quest or another.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid, then?” I asked

Alistair shook his head. “It sounds brave,” he said.

“Believe me,” I admitted. “I’d bring you along if I could. Even having you all here with me now…I feel so enormously lucky.  I’m among friends, after all. Friends I can rely on. Friends who have shown me such extraordinary courage and such great loyalty – I thank you, but moreover, my entire Wolf Clan thanks you. You risked your lives to fight on behalf of your rivals, the Wolves.”

“Of course we did!” said Jeremy hotly.

“And now you risked your lives fighting against the one woman who wished to harm Queen Breena the most – Clariss.”

“It’s part of our oath as knights,” said Barnaby. “To protect Feyland, to protect the Queen and King of Feyland, regardless of where we’re from. And to protect our own knights. So you see, you’re not special or anything.” Barnaby grinned.

I tried to stay gruff, formal, businesslike as a knight should be. But emotion crept into my voice nonetheless.

Part of me wondered if I should just stay cool, exhibit no emotion. After all, Josephine and the other Wolves seemed to think that the fairies looked down on us, that they thought of us as inferior. Was that how Alistair and Jeremy looked at me, I wondered? Because they were full Fey and I was not? I’d never really thought about it before, but since being entrusted with the Wolfstone, my perceptions of the social fabric of Feyland had begun to change. But as I looked into the trusting eyes of the Frost Fire Knights, I knew that our bond – the bond of sworn brotherhood – was stronger than any blood ties.

“I need to tell you something,” I said at last. “Because you have risked your life in coming to help the Wolf Fey, I feel at last that I can trust you. Before my grandfather died, he made me promise him that I would restore the full magic of the fey to the Wolf Fey. The Wolf Fey have lost their magic, and many have lost their Fey ways. Some, like my father, even married humans, embracing their mortality. They celebrated being unlike the Fey – who looked down on humans, looked down on love. But I believe we Wolves can have it both ways – have the benefits of mortality and the benefits of magic. That’s why I believe it’s my job to follow in my grandfather’s footsteps, to restore the magic of the fey for my Wolves. That is what I’m doing on this quest.” I fell silent, gauging the others’ reactions. I didn’t want to spill the beans about the Wolfstone, but I felt a sense of kinship with the others who sat around the campfire. If I trusted them, if I allowed myself to open up to them, would I be able to feel comfortable at last?

“Well,” said Jeremy, after a pause. “Then I think that this is a quest worth going after.”

“Hear hear!” Pan and Barnaby chimed in, raising their glasses of whiskey.

“A noble quest indeed,” Alistair considered. “But just how are you going to go about doing such a thing?” He raised an eyebrow.

My words were calm and sure. “Somehow I’m confident that whatever magic, whatever force, whatever power has led me to this point…it will lead me to where I need to be.”

“So you trust in blind faith?” Jeremy looked a bit dubious.

“You could say that,” I said. No, as tempting as it was, I could never let Alistair know about the Wolfstone – it was too precious for that. Connell, the first Red Wolf, the first lupine Fey, had kept it a secret for centuries, if not millennia. Now it was my turn to do the same thing. “But you must admit that in Feyland, all things are possible. Especially when they involve magic. Breena has shown this to be true over and over again. Who would have guessed that a sixteen-year-old girl from Oregon would become Empress of Feyland? And Rose – your Rose – has proven that a seemingly inexperienced apprentice alchemist in a palace can become a powerful Enchantress.”

Alistair turned pink with pleasure at the mention of Rose’s name. “Yes, who would have thought it?” He looked down, embarrassed at how crimson his cheeks had gotten. “But I’ve always had confidence in her.” He looked back up at me and patted my shoulder. “Breena and Rose,” he mused aloud. “Two young maidens who are now the two most powerful and magical beings in Feyland. Nobody could have imagined such a thing.”

“Nobody except for us,” I whispered back.

“We who have always believed in them…” Alistair said, before stifling a yawn. “Wolf Prince, it’s been a long journey, and I’m tired after that grueling battle. I think we all need some sleep.”

“Agreed!” the others chimed in.

“Me too,” I conceded the point. “I’m physically shattered. The journey ahead may require much of our strength, so let’s get as much rest as we can.”

Chapter 14

No sooner had my head hit the soft patch of mossy grass that I had decided to use for a pillow than I began to drift off once more into the stultifying sweetness of slumber. I hadn’t realized quite how tired I was until all my muscles began to ache at once, stinging in sync as sleep caressed my body as lovingly as a woman’s hands. I breathed heavily, groaning softly as my nostrils began to flare with the beginning of a snore. The pain in my limbs began to ease as images flashed through my head – the first hint of dreams coming to collect me, coming to take me into that world of memories and visions that had for so long been the only escape I had from the monotony of wakefulness, from the monotony of missing her.  And yet, as I entered that black realm of sleep, I could have sworn I heard a sound – a loud sound that all but ruptured my eardrums. It was the sound of glass shattering, but somehow it seemed louder – as if the sound had been magnified a hundredfold, rumbling as if it were the sea itself that were quaking.

“No! Blast!” A feminine voice rang out across my ears, and then the volume of the scene returned to normal – just in time for me to make out the source of that familiar sound. A high-pitched, melodious voice, even in the midst of consternation. “I can’t believe I’ve done it again…”

I started running towards the source of the voice. As I looked around me, I began to recognize my surroundings. The bright orange friezes on the wall, the deep crimson marble columns that held up the ceilings, the warm and earthy glow coming in from the window and casting sparkling shadows on the floor – we were definitely in the Summer Palace. It even smelled like home – that curiously spicy blend of cinnamon and orange that characterized the Summer lands, and which even now brought Breena’s image into relief in my mind’s eye.

But it was not Breena whom I saw before me now. The figure that crouched on the floor, desperately trying to pick up fragments of scattered glass without pricking her fingers, was gloriously beautiful to be sure – a less biased man than I would argue that she rivaled Breena when it came to looks. Her long auburn locks cascaded in glimmering waves down her back, revealing streaks of gold and fiery red along with the normal coppery auburn that made up most of her hair’s arresting color. Her eyes were of a constantly changing hue – they looked green in one light, grey in another, and hazel in a third light still. Whatever their color, they possessed a very particular expression – one striking in its simplicity – a practical and no-nonsense brand of intelligence that gave her a mesmerizing kind of power, a steely strength, which could not help but floor me.

Was this the same Rose I had once known, the Rose I had mentally dismissed as nothing but a younger sister for so much of the time I knew her? She was Rodney’s kid sister, the baby of the group, a child…

But the woman I saw before me was no child. Rose was every inch a woman now – beautiful, alluring, and yet still strangely self-possessed with that same calm that had always characterized her when she was younger. Evidently while her looks had developed, her inner core had remained the same.

“That’s the third time this week! By the hand of the Alchemist…”

“Rose?” I couldn’t contain my surprise, but as soon as I had spoken, I clapped a hand over my mouth. I didn’t want her to see me.

After all, what was I doing here? Surely if anyone would be meeting Rose in his dreams, it would be Alistair? He’d just told me about it – that the two of them had been linked through telepathy. So what was I doing here in his stead? That wasn’t possible – couldn’t be possible. Rose and I were friends, but we certainly weren’t in love – nothing like that! As beautiful as she was, Rose was off-limits in so many ways. She was Alistair’s true love, the sister of my friend Rodney.

And she wasn’t Breena.

“Alistair?” Rose looked up as I took a swift step behind the curtain, into the shadows, so that she wouldn’t see me. “Alistair, is that you?” She looked confused. “What are you doing here?”

And then I heard it – as strongly and as loudly as I had heard Breena’s thoughts I heard the voice of Rose in my ears. Was that…Logan? I felt my own face blush crimson as a shy flush spread across her cheeks, too. You silly girl – why must you torment yourself like this? Always thinking of him! No - it couldn’t be…what would he be doing here, anyway? Stupid Rose – you’ve got to stop dwelling on him!

On…me? My mouth flew open. I stood aghast, flabbergasted. Did Rose have a crush on me?

He loves Breena, Rose – and nobody else. He’ll never love you; you might as well resign yourself to it now, before anyone else gets drawn into that tragic love triangle. You’ve seen how everyone involved has suffered so terribly – must you force yourself to suffer, too? You must be strong. No matter how much you want him.

No matter how much his eyes make you go weak in the knees.

My own eyes had opened wide at this revelation. Rose – in love with me? The thought had never occurred to me – I’d never thought that anyone, least of all another Fey, would be interested in me. With the Wolves it was different. I was Royalty, for starts, and furthermore Wolves were awfully liberated when it came to matters of the flesh – willing and often eager to make love to whomever they found attractive without expecting it to lead to more than pleasant memories of a summer night.

But Rose – in love with me?

I didn’t have time to dwell on this unexpected revelation, however. Another voice – gruff and heavy – was calling Rose’s name.

“Rose, dear?” It was the voice of Breena’s father, Frank Flametail, the Summer King. “Did you get that potion yet?” He lumbered into view. Even though his flame-colored beard was tinged with grey, the Summer King still possessed a distinctively regal bearing. He was every inch the king, and Rose bowed low upon his approach.

“I’m so sorry, your Highness,” she said. “Not yet.”

“Well, we’ll want to hurry it up, then, won’t we?” Frank raised a ginger eyebrow at her. “We need to be able to double our crop yield, if not triple it, if we expect to feed all of Winter on top of our own people.” He sighed heavily. “People are dying every day in the Winter lands, and although things are better here we certainly don’t have a surplus we can give away. We’ll have to resort to magical means of agriculture – or I don’t know what will happen.”

“I almost had it…” Rose flushed almost as red as her hair. “I think it worked – but the potion’s unstable. It kept vibrating in the vial – the vial knocked itself off the table and shattered…”

Frank considered this for a moment. “Well,” he said. “If it is vibrating, it means there’s magic in the potion – which means you’re getting somewhere.”

“It’s not stable yet, though,” said Rose.

“You’re most of the way there,” said Frank. “Fear not, my girl. If you could do it before, then no doubt you can do it again. Perhaps you’ll simply need to work with a different vial this time?” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I must say, my girl. I am so terribly proud of you. I think of all of the attendants of the Summer Court like sons and daughters to me – but you have proven yourself a most worthy courtier. You have served us so bravely – first in the battle against the Dark Hordes, and now this! I wouldn’t be surprised if we knighted you too, one day, alongside your brother, despite your young age.”

I stifled a laugh at the thought of Rodney’s shocked face when he found out that his kid sister was in the running for one of the highest honors in the land.

Immediately I felt waves of pride and gratitude coursing through me. Somehow I was tapping into Rose’s emotions, just as I had tapped into Breena’s; I was experiencing Rose’s joy, Rose’s slight embarrassment, that the Summer King thought so highly of her.

But why? If Rose was in love with me – was she forcing this connection all by herself, just as I had perhaps forced the connection with Breena? But no – it could not be! Telepathy required the powers of both parties to work – there was no such thing as one-sided telepathy.

And yet – as beautiful as Rose was – I’d certainly never thought of her this way before. But as I looked over at her radiant smile, her glowing cheeks, her bright red hair, I felt stirrings of physical desire as I had not felt for a long time. A genuine, powerful longing for someone who was not Breena.

It’s all very well and good that the King thinks so highly of you, I heard Rose think. But if only HE would notice me…don’t be stupid, Rose, this is a great honor! The King wishes to praise you.

And yet even now, all you can think of is HIM. Of what he would think of you, of what being known as the Lady Rose would mean for his opinion of you. Is that what you want to be – some girlish fool? No, Rose, you must forget him. Forget Logan – he thinks only of Breena…remember how lucky you are to have a thriving career as an alchemist, friends that love you, a boy that…

Oh, poor Alistair…

Rose’s thoughts were full of sadness and resignation, and I flushed to hear them. I didn’t want to know that her feelings for Alistair weren’t as strong as his for her – how could I ever face Alistair again, knowing the truth about his love’s emotions?

Wake up, Logan, I tried to force myself. Get away.

And then it happened. My eyes flew open. I was hyperventilating, but awake.

“What the…”

I tried to make sense of what had just passed as my eyes adjusted to the flickering light of dawn, the brightness that swept over the plains.

But then I caught sight of stars.

It was a still night – the moon and twinkling stars were scattered across the heavens.

But the light…

And then I felt the heat, the prickling, burning heat against my face, and I knew what it was `I was seeing.

Fire.

Chapter 15

“Wake up!” Pan was running all around our campsite, rousing the rest of us. “Hurry – time to fight!”

“Fight?” Jeremy murmured sleepily, poking his head out of the tent. “Who are we fighting?”

A bolt of shooting flame – scorching the earth just inches from the tent – provided an answer.

“Dragons!” Pan shouted into Jeremy’s face. “And they’ve come looking for a good brawl.”

“I’ll get Cary,” Jeremy said, the color draining from his face as he swiftly made the transition from sleep to battle, “he’s got experience fighting dragons – he used to be a scale-hawk, back before he joined the Frost Fire Knights. Cary!” He vanished inside the tent and I heard the sounds of neighs and whinnies as he woke up Cary.

I looked up into the night sky. There they were – long, lizard like creatures with scales that shimmered obsidian and silver, casting strange-colored shadows onto the ground. Their wings were gossamer, almost too delicate for their bodies, and they breathed fire from their nostrils as well as from their forked tongues.

“Careful!” cried Alistair as we nearly dodged being incinerated by a fireball.

“How many are there?” Cary galloped out of the tent at full speed, brandishing what looked like a bow with a net attached.

“Are you going to try to catch a dragon?” Jeremy looked dubious.

“That’s exactly what I’m going to try to do,” said Cary, his smile breaking into a look of cocksure arrogance. “How many?”

“Three,” said Barnaby, looking up at the sky.

“That’s not too bad,” said Cary. “I can take one at a time – can the rest of you distract them? I need them separated; my net can only support one…”

I nodded rapidly and began running as far away from Cary as I could, followed by Barnaby.

“Over here,” I threw a rock at one of the dragons, causing it to rear up with rage as it fixed its glare on me. “Hey, you big bully – come and get me!”

Barnaby joined in taunting the dragon as we ran, luring it closer and closer to where we were, away from its companions. Alistair and Jeremy were doing something similar with a second dragon; Alistair was throwing fire bolts of his own from the tips of his fingers, while Jeremy was extinguishing the dragons’ fire with ice that swiftly melted into water, quenching the flame. I smiled bitterly. Even now, fairies have the upper hand, I thought, watching Alistair’s Autumn magic and Jeremy’s Winter magic converge.

Before long, however, we’d managed to bring down not one, not two, but all three dragons, each one felled by Cary’s expert arrows, which – carrying with them a net tied to the end – managed to tangle the dragons within their tight threads and force them to the earth.

“Now,” said Cary without a smile. “Let’s see what all this is about, shall we?”

I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. “I can only guess…” The Minotaur experience had left a bad taste in my mouth. “You thought we were going to attack you, first?”

One of the dragons snorted out fire. “I know your plot,” he hissed. “I know what the Wolf Fey plan to do with us when they regain their magic. And let me guarantee you – we’ll get you first! My people are strong; we are proud; we are brave. We do not give in easily. You will not destroy us…”

“Hold it right there,” I said. “I’ve heard this once already this week, and I’m not about to listen to it again. We have no ill will towards you, Dragon, and we never have had. It is you who have attacked us, unprovoked…”

“Because we heard what you had planned for us! We decided a pre-emptive strike was our best option if we wanted to preserve the pride and strength of the dragons.”

“And how did you know it was true?” I was losing my patience. “Or did you just strike without bothering to check the facts – and risk your life and mine in the process. The Minotaurs behaved just as you did – getting several of my friends and cousins killed or injured –and with just as little cause! We have no intention of invading others – we have seen what havoc the Fairy War wreaked on Feyland, and have no desire whatsoever to do likewise to this beloved place. What made you think that we had something against you?”

“We heard from another that you had this planned,” said the dragon.

“And you didn’t bother to verify your facts?” I could feel my face heating up with anger. “You sent your people to fight in a battle that could have resulted in needless slaughter – just as the Minotaurs had done.” I winced at the memory.

The dragon looked ashamed, then, its beady eyes looking down at the ground, avoiding my gaze. “It wasn’t like that…” It said.

But I sighed as I realized the truth. Somebody had duped both the dragons and the Minotaurs into believing that we Wolf Fey planned war, and had tried to trick them into attacking us. But who was it? Who could it be? Who would be trying to stop the Wolf Fey from regaining their magic?

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Alistair subtly signaling me, his expression grave. He looked as if he wanted to talk – but his expression made one thing clear. He wanted to talk to me alone.

I turned to the others. “Alistair,” I said, “and I are going to get some firewood for the campfire. All this fighting has made me hungry – and it’s time for a meal. I must say, I’m tempted by the idea of dragon stew. Don’t worry,” I turned to the trussed-up dragons, “I’m only kidding but let me make one thing clear. If you hadn’t given up when you did, you’d be on the breakfast menu right about now. Cary, Pan, Barnaby, Jeremy – can you watch the dragons?”

“We’ll do so!” Cary promised.

When Alistair and I were out of earshot of the others, I turned to him. “What is it?” I asked him. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Sit, please,” Alistair motioned at a log across from where we stood, and I took a seat. Alistair sat down next to me, furrowing his brow, looking decidedly perplexed. “The dragons…” Alistair began. “The Minotaurs…they all came convinced that the Wolf Fey were about to regain their magical powers and that they could stop it by attacking us. But why us? Why not some other wolves? Unless they think, for whatever reason, that we have what the Wolf Fey need. That we have the Wolfstone, which they seem to think is the cause of all their woes. Or future woes, as the case may be. I’m an alchemist, and in Feyland, an alchemist is one of the most learned of all professions when it comes to the study of magic. We study, we work, we dedicate our whole lives to becoming masters of the arts of magic. So I’ve had it my whole life. I’ve grown up immersed in it, surrounded by it. I was born with magic, but more than that – I cultivated it. Many Fey who rarely use magic lose much of their potential early on. But as an alchemist, I’ve only ever improved in my skills. Which means it can be terribly easy for me to take magic and its myriad uses for granted. Many fairies do, after all – especially those of us who have never been without it. But for someone like Queen Breena, for whom magic is a relatively new thing – it becomes all the more important. I think that’s part of what makes her such a good Queen. Being new to magic, she’s had to learn what it is, how it works, how to use it. She takes it seriously as only someone new to it can do. The older we fey get, the more experience we accumulate – the better we know how to harvest it, to use it, to control it. But for those of us who are new to magic and our ways, the effect can be difficult at first, even overwhelming.” Alistair paused for a moment, clearing his throat. He looked up at me with shining eyes as he continued.

“Tell me, Wolf Prince, leader of the Wolf Fey, since we knights have made a solemn and unbreakable vow to protect one another, and since I and my men have been willing to risk our lives to protect yours – I must ask you, as one soldier to another: do you think there is any truth in the fears of the dragons, or of the Minotaurs? If Wolf magic does return to this world, will you as the leader of the Wolves be able to contain it? Because I am starting to wonder if those thousands of years of fey magic bottled up inside that Wolfstone are closer than perhaps you care to realize at this moment?” He stared at me with searching eyes, and I knew that Alistair had begun to suspect me of having access to the Wolfstone.

“What do you mean, friend Alistair?” I avoided his gaze, trying to keep my voice calm and methodical as I turned my back towards him, trying to cloud any hint of my secret that might become evident in my eyes. “Surely you don’t think I know anything?”

“I would never suggest that outright, my good friend,” Alistair said, “but I want to ensure that you know what challenges do await you if what the Minotaurs and dragons say turns out to be true. I want to ensure that nobody in your ranks – not the proud Josephine or warlike Gideon nor any Wolves – might be over-eager to elicit what can only be known as “payback” from those who may in the past have offended your kind, or lorded their magic over them? I want to ensure that you know how difficult keeping all of Feyland safe will be if the Wolfstone does indeed resurface.

“Which…” Alistair kept looking at me, his eyes filled with suspicion. “I’m beginning to think might happen very, very soon indeed.”

Chapter 16

I gulped as I listened to what Alistair had to say. He was looking at me with searching eyes, his caramel-colored irises widening as he looked past my face, into my soul. He knew something – of that much I was sure. He might not have known that I had the Wolfstone, but he at least knew that I had some power beyond his comprehension.

I had to be careful with what I said next. I didn’t want to give away more information than necessary, but if Alistair was already onto the fact that I was hiding something from him, the last thing I wanted to do was make him more suspicious than he already was.

“Yes,” I said at last with a deep sigh. “What you say is true. There is so much good that a Wolf with Fey Magic can do. Not just for Feyland, but also for the Land Beyond the Crystal River. After all, Wolves belong in both worlds – human and fairy – why should we not improve the lot of both our homes?” I rose and began to fill my arms with firewood, shivering in the cool morning air. I didn’t want Alistair to see my face, and so I turned away. “I’m not saying I don’t appreciate your concerns, Alistair. I do – really I do. These ominous visions seen by the Minotaurs and dragons of what it might be like when the Wolves regain our magic – regain, I might add, what is rightfully ours – are frightening indeed. I can see why you might be worried that the Wolf Fey would be warlike the way the Pixies are. Right now, though, we have no reason to fear that the Wolves are planning any kind of attack. It’s the words of the Minotaur and Dragon against mine. I know that’s not too much…”

“It’s much indeed!” Alistair shot in quickly, embarrassed at the implications of his earlier words.

“But at least it’s something.” I felt my cheeks grow hot with anger – not at Alistair, exactly, but with how easy it was for him to dismiss the idea of Wolf power as something dangerous, a threat. Did Alistair think of us the way some other fairies did – as mere animals, mere beasts, unable to cope with any power we might be given? “I don’t think there’s any reason for you to suspect my people of being warlike, or having dangerous designs on Feyland. Even if we were to receive our magic once more – which I’m not saying we are – why shouldn’t we regain what’s rightfully ours? Not just  magic, but the right to protect ourselves, to make sure our families are fed, to make sure that the land of generations’ worth of Wolves, for which my grandfather and  his grandfather too fought and even died, gets preserved in the hands – or paws – of our kind? Why must you fear us taking what is rightfully ours?”

“Calm down, brother!” Alistair smiled softly as he patted my arm and motioned for me to sit down once more. Fighting the urge to snarl or howl, I sat down, as politely as I could. “There’s no need to get worked up over this, Logan, my friend, no reason at all. I was not at all implying anything, nor was I attempting to cast any aspersions on your kind. I was saying nothing more and nothing less than that magic – particularly the kind that you and your Wolves will inherit if these prophecies turn out to be real – is serious business. And the magic you inherit in particular will be different, vastly different, from the likes of anything than we have seen before in Feyland. It is not merely Feyland magic, but something more – something stronger. Something new. The magic that comes from being wild, being free – from a history, long and storied, on the outskirts of Fey society, of interaction with the mortal world…” Alistair sighed. “What I meant to say – but what is coming out all wrong – is that you Wolves are already a formidable clan, even without magic. So much so that Queen Breena herself entrusted the command of the Summer armies to you during the time of the war with the Dark Hordes.” Alistair scratched his head as he fumbled for words. “I guess what I am trying to tell you is this – that you wolves have so much already. Bravery and nobility, without even having the safety blanket of magic or the promise of immortality to back you up. If you wolves do regain your magic, you will be more than rivals for us – you will be unstoppable.” He paused on this word, letting it sink in fully. “That will frighten and threaten many who live here in Feyland. And I don’t think the dragons are the last of those who want to pre-emptively strike before such an event occurs. Pixies, banshees, you don’t know who is coming after you next, and neither do I. And it means you’ll have to keep the Wolfstone safe until the truth is revealed, and the prophecy unleashed.”

Alistair had said so much at once that it took time for me to let his words sink in. Alistair was painting a picture at once magnetic and terrifying – the vision of my kind as not merely a worthy counterpart to the Fey, but potentially the most powerful creatures in the land. I thought of rogue wolves I had known in the past – my cousin Paris, the bloodthirsty Balthazar – and shuddered. What would having this much magic mean for the Wolf Fey? Would we be able to restrain ourselves – or would we take what we saw as rightfully ours – Feyland itself – without caring about the all too real cost of innocent civilians’ lives and livelihoods, Fey and Wolf alike?

And then it hit me. The words that Alistair had used. He knew about the Wolfstone.

My hands instinctively shot to my pocket, but it was too late. Alistair had already taken a step toward me, his hands rubbing up and down my body as he sought that hidden firmness I had tried for so long to keep a secret.

“What are you doing?” I stepped back, flushing scarlet. “Don’t you touch me, Fey!”

But Alistair leaned in, his gaze fixed upon mine, his stare unnerving in the intensity of what he was trying to communicate to me. “Careful,” he hissed, through clenched teeth, taking a single, deliberate step towards me.

“What do you want!?

“Shh!”

“What’s going on?”

“They’re all around us, now,” Alistair whispered, his hot breath tickling my ear. “You can’t see them, but they’re here?”

“Here? What are you talking about? Who’s here?”

“They’re going to take it off you – they can’t suspect I have it. You need to give it to me – create a diversion. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it safe.” His fingers found my pocket…

“Trust me!”

“Trust you?” I pulled away in shock. “What the…”

“I’ll keep you safe, Logan…” his words had become desperate, pleading, almost seductive. Begging me to trust him, to give into him, to surrender…

I felt it then, a rush of pleasure so profound it almost caused me to moan out loud. The feel – smooth, soft, satiny – of fingers running up and down my body. Gentle caresses from an invisible hand – or hundreds of invisible fingers – all roaming all over me, tantalizing my muscles, causing shivers to extend up and down my spine. These were the careful, practiced hands of women who knew what desire was and how best to slake it; I cried aloud at the pleasure their soft touch gave my aching back, my taut and tensed stomach, my thighs.

And then the panic kicked in. The fear of something unknown, something invisible – these mysterious hands that began to roam up and down my body. “Hey?” I called out. “What’s going on? What are you doing?” I tried to swat them away, but to no avail. And then the voices began to call out one after another, their lilting tones soothing, my mind swimming in the caressing sounds that echoed across the forest.

“Oh my!” one high-pitched voice called out, crooning as fingers traced lines up and down my body. “He is a treat! Feel his muscles, won’t you? Feel how hard they are, so smooth. A real treat for the hands.”

“A real treat for the eyes, too,” laughed another voice, and I could feel cool breath against my face although I could see no lips.

I felt as if I were surrounded – voices and hands reaching out at me, pawing at me, pushing me down onto a patch of soft grass. Then they began to straddle me, slide atop me, laughing and giggling as I felt them press their soft womanly bodies against me. Their laughter rang in my ears, and I couldn’t resist a moan of extreme pleasure as they began to rub themselves up and down my body. There must easily have been five of them, if not more – ten hands, one hundred fingers, exploring the contours of my body. One of them removed my shirt, another was unzipping my trousers.

Fear mingled with desire; my pleasure vied with my common sense, and at last my sense of self-preservation triumphed over the incredible waves of ecstasy that rode through my body, cresting through me.

“I could do this all day and night with this one,” one of the voices cried as I felt fingers touching my thighs, tracing lines along my abdomen.

“Alistair!” I called. “Where are you? Come back – don’t leave me here with them.”

“Your friend is gone,” a woman’s voice – deeper this time – spoke in my ear. “Might as well. We’re only drawn towards men, not her.”

“Her?” My mouth fell open. “What are you talking about? Alistair is no girl!”

I sat up, pushing invisible hands and invisible fingers out of my way. “Alistair?”

But the figure who turned towards me was not Alistair at all. The red hair had turned blonde; the caramel eyes were bright green.

I should have known. The Sorceress had the power to take on any form, to become anyone’s shadow, bring out the insecurities of those around them. I’d seen this happen before. I should have guessed at the way Alistair picked at my fears about Wolf magic – the real Alistair would never have been so suspicious.

But I hadn’t guessed – not until now.

Clariss stood before me, grinning. And the Wolfstone was cradled in her hands.

Chapter 17

“Clariss?” I gaped, aghast, as I took a step towards her. This wasn’t the serpent I had left in the woods – nor the ugly old crone Alistair had revealed to me as the personification of Clariss’ inner self. This Clariss was the one I remembered from my high school days – the beautiful, impossibly, terrifyingly beautiful Clariss – at once magnetic and chilling. The Clariss I had never loved – for her cruelty to others and her selfishness was far more off-putting than any deformation of face and feature – but I could not deny that I had desired her, although my longing paled in comparison to my longing for Breena. “Clariss, give that back. It has nothing to do with you.”

“It was so easy,” Clariss laughed – a long, throaty laugh – as she turned back to me. “It was so easy to distract you, you know,” she said. “All those tree sprites – I knew the second I led you into this wood that the tree sprites would be after you. You’re exactly their type. Hunky – with just the right amount of puppy-dog boyish charm. And those abs.” She smiled slowly. “I didn’t have to do much persuading to get them to help me. I just had to let them have a crack at that body of yours…” A flush of rosy color came to her cheeks.

“Tree sprites?” My mouth fell ajar. “Is that what they were?” I turned bright crimson at the memory of the pleasure they had afforded me; muscle memory reflexively caused me to relive the feeling of their fingers and mouths all over me. I looked down so that Clariss would not see me blush. Truly, those sprites were hard for any man to resist – and it was only by the tiniest margin that my own good sense had won out over the callings of my body.

“Yes,” said Clariss, nodding her head over to the clearing from which I had just stepped away from. I turned around to see in the place of those invisible voices five of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. They were completely naked – their hair – blonde, brown, red, and black, but uniformly shiny – long enough to cover their bare breasts. Only a few leaves, hastily tied together with twine, covered their lower parts. They were writhing in ecstatic desire against the trunks of trees – smiling at me, pouting in mock-rejection, their eyes beckoning me onwards to come with them.

For a moment temptation beckoned me back. If I were a lesser man, I thought to myself, I would forget all these troubles, all these responsibilities. I would let these five gorgeous women have their way with me and forget all about the Wolfstone. But I knew it was not to be. I was the Wolf Prince, a member of the Frost Fire league. I couldn’t let temptation get to me – not while I had to focus on getting the Wolfstone out of Clariss’ grasp.

And even if there weren’t an issue – what would Breena think? Surely she wouldn’t want me to act that way, either – especially not while I was still professing my desperate, hopeless love for her.

At the thought of Breena, I saw her once more in my mind’s eye. Beautiful – regal and powerful, and yet always so sweet and kind. Even as a Queen, Breena was as humble and sincere as she was when she was a princess in nobody’s eyes but my own.

My mental vision of her became clearer, stronger, more powerful, until it seemed as if Breena herself were standing before me, her wide eyes staring into my own with a look of such love and compassion it sent me reeling.

“Oh, Bree,” I heard myself saying, stumbling over the words, for my emotion seemed to choke me up, “I’ll stand by you in helping you to restore Feyland, no matter what the cost. I don’t want you to be scared any longer; I don’t want you to worry. I know how tired you are of being the strong one all the time. Let me be strong for you. No matter what happens, no matter what you choose, I will always protect you. I will always love you.” I couldn’t resist her; I couldn’t do anything but give into her beauty, and the power of that illusion. I kissed her, gathering her towards me, feeling her warm breasts and her lithe body in my arms, rejoicing in that momentary lie.

But when I opened my eyes, she was gone. The loveliness of the vision had vanished, leaving in its place another figure in my arms. A figure that filled me with repulsion along with bitter disappointment. Clariss. Again!

“Cheer up, lover,” she said. “I’m not so bad.”

She leaned in and kissed me again, but this time I pushed her away.

“How dare you?” I snarled.

“You think she’s so much better than me? You think she has so much that I don’t?” There was pain mingled with her fury. “I won’t even try to fight it,” she said. “It’s too strong. Strong enough that no amount of illusion can fool you for long.” She spat. “But one day, when you’re pining for that uptight little Princess of yours, you’ll realize that there was another woman who loved you. Who never tried to play you. Who never wanted you to wait until she was done with being in love with another before she’d even consider giving her heart to you…” She laughed with bitterness. “I will destroy that bond between the two of you – as a public service. Because you deserve better than being the laughingstock of Feyland! But now that I know how deep she’s gotten her claws into your heart – I know what I have to do.”

“What are you talking about?” I reared up. “What do you plan to do with her? If you hurt her, Clariss, I swear by all the powers of Feyland that I’ll…”

But it was too late. She was gone.

Dazed, I turned and walked back to camp.

Barnaby was the first to spot me. “Where did you go?” Barnaby asked. “You just wandered off into the woods after the dragon’s attack?”

Alistair and Jeremy approached me. “Yeah, what happened?” Alistair looked utterly confused. “Where did you go?”

“Have some breakfast,” Jeremy shot in. “We’ve been cooking.”

I should have known to suspect Clariss from the second Alistair had started to condescend to the Wolf Fey. Looking at Alistair’s’ sweet, innocent expression, I knew he never could have cast the aspersions that Clariss had done.

Clariss…

She’d gotten me good, but not quite good enough. I reached into my pocket, where the Wolfstone was tucked safely.

Pretending to see Breena in Clariss had been difficult – but not so difficult that I couldn’t fool Clariss into thinking I’d been taken in, at least for a little while. My kiss had served my purpose – distracted her long enough for me to get the Stone back. Evidently, Clariss was made just as weak as other Fey by love.

I smiled inwardly as the knights presented me with a horse. It was determined – much to Cary’s chagrin – that Barnaby would ride atop him, while Alistair and Jeremy mounted magnificent steeds. Pan, meanwhile, hopped alongside my steed, his agile ways allowing him to keep up.

“Nay,” I said, reaching out a hand and pulling him up with one arm. “Sit behind me, on this horse.”

“Thank you,” Pan bowed low. “It’s not often we satyrs get to ride horses!”

“So,” Jeremy turned to me. “Where to, now, eh, Logan? Where does your quest take us?”

“Us?”

“Aye, us! What kind of Frost Fire Knights would we be if we allowed you to go on a dangerous quest without your fellow brethren?”

I smiled as I sniffed the air. The air smelled sweet like honey, at once tangy and warm, and entirely pleasurable. It was like nectar for my body, a strange and magnetic sense that I must follow that delicious scent, fulfill a hunger deep within me. The air itself seemed to call to me, to beckon me inwards.

“This way,” I said, confidence flooding through my body as I continued onwards, leading the gang.

I galloped forward, towards the source of the smell, before turning to look back. The others were still plodding along at a normal pace. Apparently they hadn’t smelled the same delectable scent as I had. I turned around to look at Pan, who was dozing on my shoulder, snoring his behorned head off. I smiled softly. If Pan had smelled what I had smelled, he would already have mentioned it – I knew all too well how susceptible he was to simple pleasures like a delicious meal. Anyone who smelled that scent would be rushing towards it, his stomach growling with delirious anticipation. It was the smell of fresh baked bread, of hot cinnamon rolls, straight from the oven – the smell that I always used to associate with Breena’s and my morning pre-school treats back in Oregon. How I missed that scent – the sweet, seductive scent of home!

How I missed home.

I hadn’t thought much of the mortal world since following Breena here. But now I felt a strange stirring, a strange longing for Oregon once again. Perhaps it was these strange memories that sent my thoughts down the twisting path.

The scent grew stronger and more alluring, and before I realized what I was doing I began to dig my heels into my steed’s sides, urging him onwards towards the source of this great feast. We passed through forests alive with fiery colors, red and gold, orange and yellow. Fruits and vegetables sprang forth from the vines and the earth.

“We’re in the Summer territory!” Pan exclaimed excitedly as he woke from his nap. “And not a minute too soon. I could use with a good long soak in a hot bath in some country inn.”

I scoffed. “I can agree with that – you need a good long bath, all right.” But even his pungent odor didn’t distract from the sweet smell that lured me onwards.

In the distance I could see the bright and shining spires of the Summer Palace a place that brought back so many memories – of me and Breena, the two of us together, of being by her side, fighting the war with her, of those happy moments during which we were engaged, of her kidnapping by Delano, of seeing her stabbed, dying, dead…

I thought I had left all those memories behind me when Breena left with Kian, but now they left me breathless, overcome by their power.

We were back where we had started – the Wolfstone had lured me here. Back to where we had begun. But why? How could Breena’s home help the Wolves regain their magic?

As the steed rode towards the gates of the Summer Palace, my eyes drifted upwards, towards the window. Towards where I saw a long head of glorious, tumbling chestnut hair – the face turned away.

But I knew the color of the hair all too well.

“Breena?” I whispered.

Chapter 18

I kicked my steed, my heels digging deep into the horse’s side, as I quickened my pace, my heart beating fast as I rode up to the very door of the Summer Palace. I didn’t even pay attention to the group of Summer maidens who were loitering on the stairs, fanning themselves in the heat.

“Oh, Logan!” one of them called. I recognized her – a sultry blonde called Merrifield. She blew me a flirtatious kiss. “Where are you going so quickly? Come stay with us a while!”

“Wait!” Another one called.

But flirtations hardly mattered to me now. Not when Breena was so, tantalizingly, close to me.

“Breena!” I called, feeling my chest expand with joy as I raced through the Great Hall and up the marble staircase that led to her study. “Breena, I’m here! I’ve come!”

I didn’t even knock. I was breaking all kinds of royal protocol, I was sure, but at this point in time it didn’t seem to matter. I couldn’t bring myself to care. Breena was here; she was nearby; that was all that mattered. I was wild with joy; ecstatic beyond measure. I wanted only to kiss her, to touch her, to hug her. Her proximity to me felt like the most important thing in the world. I needed her; I ached for her.

“Breena?” I swung the door open. “Breena!”

But the figure that turned to greet me, with long chestnut hair sloping down over his shoulders, was not Breena at all. While he retained plenty of Breena’s beauty – certainly, his regal charm matched Breena’s own – the distinction was unmistakable: this was not Breena at all, but Frank Flametail, the King of Summer, Breena’s father.

My face turning scarlet, I dropped to my knees, bowing low.

“Your Highness,” I stuttered, staring down at the marble floor. “I’m so sorry. I saw you in the window – I – I – I – mistook you for someone else. I thought you were…”

“Breena?” Luckily for me, Frank’s eyes were twinkling, and there was no hint of anger upon his face. Rather he looked kind, even charming, slightly amused at my mistake. “No, my boy, I’m very sorry to disappoint you, but you’re stuck with me instead.”

“It’s so nice to see you again, Logan,” a kindly voice made me whirl around to see its source – a slender woman behind me with long dark  hair and bright, shining eyes. She was older, now, but her face still revealed an incredible beauty – one that had only increased with age as she had grown in confidence in strength. I was used to seeing her in sweatshirts, pashmina scarves, and jeans, but in the full regalia of the Fairy Kingdom Raine Malloy, Breena’s mother, cut a far more magnificent figure. Clad in a dress of apricot silk and peach satin, with a velvet brocade that gave way to lace at her neck, she looked every inch the Queen, just as her daughter was.

With a motion as effortless as gliding, Raine took her seat upon one of the three golden thrones in the room.

One for Raine…I thought. One for Frank Flametail. And one for Breena.

The ruling family of the Summer Kingdom, though only Breena and Kian – according to the laws of the final peace treaty – were considered Emperor and Empress of the United Fairy Kingdom. Better that the old Summer rulers stayed out of it, they had reasoned, to avoid conflict with Winter.

“I never would have guessed we would meet one another under these circumstances,” Raine continued, smiling softly. “I never would even have guessed that I would see Feyland again – or my Frank…”

She patted her husband’s arm as she turned towards him. I could see the love and happiness shining in her eyes. My heart ached in the knowledge of all that the two of them had suffered. They had been separated for years due to the machinations of the Summer King’s former wife, Redleaf the Summer Queen; Raine had risked her life to withstand the fairy kiss that might well have driven her insane. But their love story had a happy ending. The two of them had made their way back to one another – despite other spouses, other loves, other lives. Would Breena and I have the same happy ending? As I saw the way the Summer King and Queen looked at one another, my heart swelled up within my breast. Would I ever know that kind of happiness with another girl with auburn-tinted, chestnut hair?

“But here you are!” Raine stretched out her hands to me. “And I’m so glad to see you. It’s been ages, Logan!” She turned to Frank. “Logan and Breena were inseparable as children,” she explained. “Logan was at my house almost every day – morning, noon, and night! It was like having a second child, a son.”

I couldn’t help but feel an involuntary pang of bitterness at these words. A second son. That’s what I was, after all, to the Malloy family. A brother, rather than a husband or a boyfriend – someone loved and treasured for my fidelity and my courage, but all those things that made me me, a man, a man desperate for the love of a woman, all these things shunted to one side, forgotten.

I looked around, half-expecting to see Breena walking through that door. But she was nowhere to be found. Had she made it to the Summer Kingdom safely, I wondered? Was she able to get her father to help provide for the Winter citizens with the bounty of the Summer harvest?

“She was just here,” said Raine to me, smiling kindly, as if she had overheard my thoughts. “Breena, I mean She left right before you showed up – you just missed her.”

As always, I thought, with a grim smile.

“She had to go back to the Winter Kingdom to immediately implement the magic that she and Frank prepared here in Summer, using the harvest-magic to make seeds bud into blood.”

“What a shame,” I said, trying to keep my voice light and informal, so that Raine wouldn’t guess at my heartbreak. “I’d hoped to catch her while she was here.”

“You miss her, don’t you?” said Raine, her eyes wide with sympathy. “I remember the way you two were just so inseparable when you were younger – even as kids. I thought the two of you would be thick as thieves your whole life through.”

“I thought so too, your Highness,” I said, and this time my voice could not disguise the bitterness I felt at the harsh fact of the truth. A truth I never would be able to forget.

“Oh!” Realization spread like a blush across Raine’s face as she allowed the full meaning of my words to sink in. “Oh, Logan, I’m so sorry. I should have known…” She looked down, avoiding my gaze. “I should have guessed that you and Breena were more than just friends.”

How could I explain to her the truth? How could I put the enormity of what had happened between us into words.

“We were even engaged once,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as possible. “When Breena first became Queen.”

An awkward pause hung like stagnant smoky air in the room.

“Anyway,” Frank cleared his throat, skillfully changing the subject. “Now Logan and his Wolves are some of our most trusted allies,” he said, turning to Raine. “The pact between Summer and the Wolves has been a fruitful alliance for both parties, I’m sure.”

I don’t know what I’m doing.

The voice was as loud as Raine’s or Frank’s – echoing in my ears. But it wasn’t Raine’s or Frank’s voice. It was Breena’s – clear and crystal-bright as the streams of Feyland. Clear – and full of pain.

The Winter Palace is a full day off yet – and I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get there. People are starving every day; every day that the magic takes to work is a day when children will die. The harvest in Summer is good, but it’s not enough. Not enough for all those people.

In my mind’s eye I saw Breena turning to Kian, giving him a shy, brave smile. Telling him nothing of her fears, of her worries, of the vulnerabilities that were tearing her inside out.

This has never happened to Feyland before, Breena was thinking. As a human, I have seen what starvation does to people. What the dying of crops and poor weather conditions mean for millions. I’ve read newspapers. I know death. But Kian…this is all new to him. He can’t understand; he doesn’t know what I know. They’ve experienced war – but never hunger. Never this. He doesn’t know what’s in store.

Only I know. And only I can help them.

But how?

Her pain flowed through my veins like blood. Somehow Breena trusted me; somehow she had let me hear her thoughts, even when she had kept them from her love Kian.

I had to help her. The knowledge was as sure in my heart as the power of the Wolfstone. I had to go to her.

I knew what I had to do.

“Won’t you stay?” Breena’s mother stretched out her arms to me. “We could hold a banquet – in your honor, and in the honor of all the Frost Fire Knights.” She smiled at me. “I know plenty of the Summer Fey women have been asking about you. Apparently they missed you terribly while you were gone – they pester me with questions about you!”

“Apparently you’ve made quite an impression,” added King Flametail.

“I’m afraid I can’t stay,” I said. “I have a mission which spurs me onwards. I must leave this place – but I hope I will return.”

Raine gave me a soft smile. “I hope you find what you seek,” she said. “Even if you don’t know what it is you’ve been seeking.”

I bowed low before them both. Then, leaving Alistair and the others behind, I made my way back to my horse, mounting quickly and riding off into the forests.

Alone.

Chapter 19

I found them resting at a brook. When I saw them from a distance, cradled in one another’s arms, looking so happy as their limbs twined into one another, my first reaction was fury – rage. Completely irrational – and yet so compelling – my desire was to tear Kian limb from limb, to savage his body and carry Breena off for my own. And yet I couldn’t bear to intrude upon her happiness. For she did look happy, there, in his arms – resting in his lap, with Kian’s pale rosebud lips lightly touching her forehead. They were the perfect picture of domestic bliss.

And here I was – about to come between them. Half of me wanted to run off – to leave Breena in her cradle of happiness, to force myself to resign myself to the fact that she was happy with her fiancé, so happy, and there was nothing I could do about it. But half of me – the stronger half – needed to see her, to speak to her. This time I could save her. This time it wasn’t Kian’s fairy magic that could save the day, but rather my own skills. My knowledge of the human world.

So I stepped forth into the clearing, bracing myself for the pain of seeing Kian at her side as I called her name.

“Breena!”

She turned around immediately, and when her eyes fell upon me I saw her face light up with happiness. It’s all worth it, I thought to myself as she grinned – all the pain and suffering I had been through was worth it just to see that smile on her face, just to see her look at me like that. A look that was full of love.

“Logan!” she cried, springing to her feet and running towards me, throwing her arms around my neck. “I haven’t heard from you for days – and I was so worried about what happened. I heard your call and I wanted to come – but so many people needed my help in the Winter Kingdom; I couldn’t turn them away. I couldn’t turn my back on them. I sent Alistair…”

I stopped her, pressing a finger to her lips. “I understand,” I said. “You sent your knights in your stead, and that was more than generous enough. Your people need you here, in Feyland, to rule. At the palace – ruling over them, providing for them, protecting them. Not fighting off Minotaurs in Wolf country.”

“Minotaurs?” Kian’s face lit up at the prospect of battle, as it always did. “Is that what your call was about?” He laughed softly. “I would have joined the battle in a heartbeat if I could have done. But Bree’s right. We cannot drop our responsibilities the way we used to, when we were merely knights and not Kings. We cannot forego our main responsibility, which is to our people. We must protect and provide for them.”

“Which is why I’m here,” I broke into the conversation. “Because of the issue with the famine. I have an idea.”

“How did you know about the famine?” Kian’s brows furrowed.

I turned to Breena, and gave her a significant look, watching recognition dawn upon her features. “I heard through a good friend,” I said softly, and color came to her cheeks as she realized the meaning of my words.

“Anyway,” I continued on. “Perhaps our time here in Feyland has made us forget much,” I said. “But Breena and I are from a different world. A world without many of the benefits of Feyland. But a world with benefits of his own. I guess being here in Feyland has made us forget the conveniences of our old life – technology, mass production, mass storage. We don’t have quite the agriculture you do, but we do have a little thing called supermarkets.”

Breena’s eyes lit up as she realized what I had in mind.

“So simple,” she breathed. “But sometimes the best solution is the simplest, no?”

Kian looked confused as his eyes traveled from Breena to me, and back again. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Food in America…” Breena was smiling. “So much is wasted every day. We’ll pass into the Land Beyond the Crystal River, go to the grocery stores, supermarkets, bakeries. Buy all the canned and preservable food we can – and bring it back here. Cans upon cans…”

“And how are we going to do that?” Kian rounded on her. “Allow every fey to grocery shop?”

“Why not, eh?” Breena laughed. “Logan and the wolves cross back and forth all the time.”

“They know the rules. Our fey do not. They’ll be discovered in a heartbeat – destroying the secrecy of Feyland forever.”

“Then we’ll only allow our most trusted knights to go over,” Breena said. “Along with volunteer Wolves. We’ll send our knights, our men over, along with the palace cooks, to buy up canned food and nonperishables in a large enough supply to tide over the Fey until our harvest is ready, and Feyland is back on its feet again.” She took a step towards me and took my hand is hers. “A simple solution – and I never thought of it. Thank you so much, Logan, for reminding me of home, and of some of the perks of being human.” She laughed and turned to Kian, kissing him lightly on the cheeks. I tried not to bristle. “No offense, darling, but sometimes it is nice to just use common sense ingenuity rather than relying on magic all the time.”

Kian nodded, looking me and Breena up and down. “I’ll...erm…I’m going to get a drink of water from the brook. The horse looks thirsty.” He walked away, somewhat awkwardly, leaving me alone with Breena.

Her face was rosy and flushed from riding, her bright chestnut hair swept back by jeweled combs that sparkled in the sunlight. She was maddeningly, breathtakingly beautiful. And I wanted her – desperately.

“Breena,” I said, trying to force the words out. “I’ve been getting these visions. I’m not sure how or when or what or why – but they involve you. As if you’re calling to me – as if you’re worried. Trying to get something out – something you can’t discuss with others?” My eyes fell upon Kian in the distance. “Not even with him.”

Breena nodded slowly. “How did you know?” Her voice was low. “There are just some things I can’t talk to Kian about – he wouldn’t understand, you know; he’s not human. Only you and maybe my mother would understand – those of us who grew up human. All this time – it’s funny – all this time I kept thinking I needed to perform this great big magic that no Fey had ever seen in order to restore Feyland to...well, I don’t even know, do I? I don’t know what Feyland was like before. And it’s been a lot of pressure. And Kian, well, he tries – but he believes in me so strongly that sometimes I’m afraid I’ll disappoint him if I don’t believe in myself…”

I couldn’t stop myself from touching her face, feeling the smooth, soft skin beneath my fingers. Breena inhaled softly, closing her eyes as she gave herself over to my touch.

“Breena,” I whispered, stroking her cheeks with the pads of my fingertips. I wanted to kiss her, to take her into my arms, to run my hands up and down her whole body.

“I know you chose him, Breena – but there’s still a connection between us. I feel it – can’t you? I wouldn’t be having these visions if there weren’t…”

Breena nodded, her throat tight. She was barely able to speak. “I know,” she said at last. “There is a connection. I felt it, too. And it scares me, Logan.” She opened her eyes and stared into my own, her expression terrifying in its intensity. “For the first time since I became engaged to Kian, I’ve been having thoughts that maybe…I should have…oh, Logan, I can’t go there…it’ll just complicate things.”

“It’s complicated enough already,” I couldn’t hold back another minute. I pulled her close, brushing my lips against her cheeks. She tasted so sweet – of berries and chocolate. She gasped.

“No, I can’t!” Breena pulled back, hiding her face from me. “I’m with Kian, now. We’re friends, you and I, and nothing more…”

“But the visions!” I couldn’t stop myself, now. I’d begun, and there was no turning back. “I’m hearing your thoughts, your feelings – we have this connection.”

“Just of me?” Breena asked.

I stopped short. “No,” I admitted slowly. “Not just you.”

“Other women?”

I nodded.

“Who?”

“You…Rose…Clariss…”

“Really?” Breena arched an eyebrow, and I thought I saw a hint of jealousy in her bright eyes. “How…odd. I don’t know what could connect us. Except, I suppose, an attraction to you…”

“What do you mean?”

“Perhaps your heart is more divided than your head, Logan?” Breena put a hand out on my shoulder. “Maybe Feyland is trying to tell you to move on, that there are more options for you out there.”

“I don’t want to move on!” I felt tears sting at my eyes. I couldn’t think that way. It had always been Breena, no one else. And hearing those words broke my heart as it  had never been broken before.

“Or maybe all four of us have a connection. I don’t know what it means – but I do know that strange things happen in Feyland…”

“Breena!” I wanted to kiss her, to convince her to love me, but it was too late. The rustling of leaves meant that Kian had returned with the horse.

“So, we’re really going to do this?” Kian was incredulous. “Send over our knights Beyond the Crystal River on a mission to buy up all this food and bring it back?”

“Not quite slaying dragons, is it?” Breena laughed. “It’s a funny image – Fey in disguise in Go-mart.”

Kian laughed too, his voice twinkling like stars, his whole voice and expression ethereal.

“Stranger things have happened before, my love,” he said, taking Breena’s hand and kissing it. “But it is a solution – and the best one we have right now.”

Chapter 20

Breena, Kian, and I had decided to keep our meeting and our ultimate plan a secret. While we needed to start sending emissaries across the Crystal River as swiftly as possible, we were all too wary of the dangers of letting loose a pack of untrained fairies onto the mortal world. Several fairies I could think of would be none too handy at hiding their magic; within hours, the mortal world would discover Feyland – with disastrous consequences. We had to keep the operation stealthy, for now. Fairies didn’t often cross beyond the Crystal River, with good reason.

“There was one program a few centuries ago,” said Breena. “I did some research on it. An old Summer King sent his men across to get guns – thinking that such weapons would give him an advantage over his enemies. But instead, his Fey began to misuse their magic – stealing gold and jewels from humans, casting love spells, running amuck. So he ordered them all to return, to leave the guns in the mortal world, and nevermore to have anything to do with the corrupting influences of humanity.” She smiled bitterly. “And just look at how far we’ve come.”

“We have to keep the circle of people in the know to the absolute minimum,” Kian agreed, nodding. “Just your palace cooks, accompanied by your bravest knights and most reliable soldiers. And wolves to train them in the art of appearing human.”

“I’m not sure how open my wolves would be to training your Fey,” I said. “There’s a lot of bad blood these days among my clan.”

Kian turned to me with pleading eyes. “This is for all of Feyland,” he said. “Not just for the fairies – but for everyone. If people start to starve…” He looked gruff, but I knew that his grim exterior masked his pain.

“I understand,” I said, and shook his hand, feeling his cold skin against mine. Even now, even after all that we had been through and the jealousy that divided us, I felt that Kian and I were brothers. Our love for Breena bonded us – stronger than blood, it linked us.

We understood one another.

I began to lead expeditions into the mortal world. The journey was tiring and taxing – each time we traveled across the Crystal River I found myself more exhausted, more in pain, than the last time. The trip seemed to leave me drained – I arrived on one or the other side of the border breathless and gasping, unable to move for seconds or even minutes. But I couldn’t stop what we were doing – not when we were doing such important work. We rented trucks and drove to big-box chain stores, buying cans in bulk by the thousands, noting that fairy gold was worth as much as human gold, but was by this point far more plentiful. We brought food back to Feyland, distributing it in the town squares and to the homes of the elderly and sick each day.

Meanwhile, the Summer King was working on restoring the crops – a process that, though slow, was far less stressful now that the denizens of Feyland had enough to eat. Unfortunately, one trip was not enough to stock the larders of Feyland, and every week a new expedition set out to the mortal world, traveling across America in search of food. We had so far avoided any major disasters – nobody had been outed as a fairy just yet, despite a few close calls – and after a few months I began to get used to the grueling routine of “running” trade across the border.

It was at the conclusion of one of these expeditions that I was resting for a few nights in the Summer palace in order to regain my strength for the upcoming trip, which would take me to California – we had to vary our destinations to avoid attracting attention or suspicion.

I was about to go to bed when I heard a knock at the door.

“Come in,” I called, expecting it to be one of the servants. But instead, in strode the Fairy King, regal and imperious, with his long reddish-brown hair tied back in a ponytail.

“I apologize for dropping in on you like this,” said the King, “but I had to see you alone, without any of the others. And given that you’re always flanked by women at the Great Hall whenever you dine…”

I blushed and murmured something about them just being friendly.

“In any case, Prince, I have something to show you. Come with me.”

I couldn’t refuse him. I followed him down one corridor and up another, into rooms that were hidden behind other rooms, wandering for what felt like miles into the maze of the palace. We were nowhere I recognized; every turning brought new surprises. At last the King unlocked a door with a shimmering, ruby-encrusted key, and led me into a tiny room.

I coughed as I choked on the dust and cobwebs. Evidently this room hadn’t seen daylight for decades, if not centuries. The king snapped his fingers and two balls of fire appeared atop two torches, glimmering brightly and illuminating the room. A suit of armor stood in one corner; across from it, a wolf pelt was nailed into the wall.

“What is this?” I asked, feeling unsettled by the sight of a pelt.

“Son,” the Summer King said. “This…is your heritage. As it is mine. As it is Breena’s.” At the mention of her name the Wolfstone, which I kept in my pocket at all times, began to shine brightly, burning a sultry warmth into the side of my thigh.

“As the current Summer King, it is my job to preserve and protect the traditions of Summer. As my heir and my daughter, Breena has to do these things, too. But many years ago, long before your time, long even before my own, when the very first Summer king was a mere boy who did not know that he was destined to become the first king of a Feyland that would soon be divided, when this boy was but a youthful adventurer – he found himself trapped in a dragon’s cave, being prepared to be that dragon’s supper.

“But just as the dragon was about to consume him whole, a pack of wolves arrived and attacked the dragon, killing him and saving the boy after a battle that saw much bloodshed, and much death. Overcome with gratitude at being saved by the wolves, who had protected him although he was not of their blood, that boy swore loyalty and fealty to the Wolves forever more. As the boy grew into a man, he remained friends with the Wolves, living in their camps, eating their food, breaking bread with them. Over time, the boy became the most courageous leader in Feyland – encouraged by the loyalty and bravery of the wolves. And, when circumstances divided Feyland into Kingdoms, Hamish – for that was the boy’s name – became the first King of Summer as we know it today. The Wolves and the Summer Kingdom have always preserved this friendship, this bond, throughout their lives. That fur pelt you see up there, and that armor besides it, serves as a testament to the bond that the Wolves and the Summer kings shared.

“Now, when Redleaf took over the Summer Kingdom, she severed that bond, fostering feelings of ill will between the Wolves and Fey, but I am pleased to see that Breena – through her friendship with you – has restored it. I speak of friendship, of course, but I cannot deny that for a time it was much more – Breena is the first female blood heir in centuries, and her attachments therefore have far more import for the future of Feyland than any other woman.”

I looked down, embarrassed.

“Fear not, Logan,” the Summer King continued. “Breena is, after all, easy to love. But to have her friendship, her loyalty, her trust – no man can ever merit all these things, and so he who receives them is luckier than any man might reasonably believe himself to be.”

“Is that why I’m bonded to her?” I couldn’t help asking. “This ancient friendship between Summer and the Wolves?”

“In part,” began the King. But then he conceded “I think there is more to it than that, I must confess.”

“But she chose Kian.” I couldn’t hold back a sigh. “Even though I know this, I can’t help loving her.”

The Summer King patted my shoulders with a kindly smile. “I know, Wolf. And someday I hope for everybody’s sake that you will find that you are able to move on, to find someone who loves you as much – or even more – than you love Breena, whom you can love in turn. There are many here in Feyland who have their eyes upon you, Logan. You just need to broaden your horizons.”

As I nodded at the Summer King, I felt a curious feeling flooding through me. A feeling I had never experienced before. Relief – yes, but something more. The feeling that maybe my pain might be able to end one day. It was as if the Summer King had given me permission to break my own mental bond with Breena – to cast off the shackles of this ancient friendship that had linked me and Breena, but confused me into thinking maybe we were meant to be something more.

I felt a weight come off my shoulders – the weight I had shouldered ever since I’d met her. That need to protect her, to guard her, to make sure nothing bad ever happened to her.

No, it was Breena’s job to guard herself – to take care of herself. And Kian’s to love her. But not mine. Our time together was coming to an end – and while I’d always care for her, for the first time in years I saw the light of a potential future without her.

And I could look into that future with hope.

Epilogue

The Summer King turned to me, his eyes closed. He inhaled deeply, as if he were breathing in some long-forgotten scent. The Wolfstone glimmered in my pocket, growing hotter and hotter, and then I heard the voice of the Summer King echoing within my ears as Breena had done. For my connection wasn’t just with Breena anymore – but with all her kin and kind. With all of the summer court.

We too shared this bond.

In my mind’s eye I saw what Frank Flametail saw – I saw the first wolves, the generations upon generations of friendship that bonded my kind to the Summer Kings. I saw the early kings of Summer – all with that distinctive chestnut-red hair, riding through the forests, Wolves at their side – loyal companions, best friends, closest allies.

I saw my Grandfather – feeling a pang as I recognized him – riding next to Flametail, and recognized that they had what Breena and I had. A close bond, a deep friendship.

But that was all.

“Logan,” the Summer King’s voice boomed magnificently. “I know who you are.” A figure appeared next to him. Proud – beautiful – alluring – yet noble. A figure I recognized. It was Connell, the Red Wolf.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?” the King continued blithely, apparently unaware of our new guest.

“You are the Red Wolf,”  Connell said, his voice solemn, his eyes grave.

“You are the Red Wolf,” the Summer King echoed his words without hearing him. “It was revealed before, but many do not know, or cannot understand, the significance of that, son. It means you are the Keeper of the Wolfstone. You have the magic of the Wolves within you, Logan.”

I couldn’t deny it. Not to the Summer King. Not to Breena’s father. I held out my hand, the Wolfstone gleaming bright upon my palm. I wasn’t afraid – not any longer. I could trust him. The Wolfstone wanted me to reveal it, at last.

“But the three sisters…” I began.

Connell cut me off. “They will unlock the power of the Wolfstone,” Connell said.

“I’ve had my theories on that,” said the Summer King. “I’ve been wondering when it would come up, ever since I figured out your identity as the Red Wolf. With the Red Wolf comes the Wolfstone, and with that comes change. I can only guess it is time for the Wolves to regain their magic. And the Summer Kingdom will welcome this change with open arms and wings spread wide. After all, before becoming Wolves, the Fey who were your ancestors were from Summer initially.”

My mouth fell open. “So there’s a possibility I too am from Summer.”

“Not just a possibility,” said the King, grinning. “In fact, a certainty. The line of your Grandfather is direct from Summer nobility.”

Suddenly a thought came into my mind, unbidden – a thought that became surer the brighter the Wolfstone glowed.

“Breena…” I began. “She’s one of the Sisters, isn’t she? That’s why I keep getting her thoughts, her images.  But what about Rose? Why do I have this connection with her?”

Connell answered me. “That is yet to be seen, Wolf. Since you have kept the stone safe, and the time of its unlocking is near – know this, and know this well. You will no longer need to marry a Fey woman to restore the magic back to the Wolf Fey. The unlocking of the Wolfstone will be enough henceforth to fulfill that resolve.”

At his words, I saw a new spirit before me. The image of my grandfather, standing behind Connell, nodding at me as his eyes crinkled with pride and love. “Logan, our champion. You have made me so very proud with all that you have done.”

“But Grandfather1” I faltered. “I haven’t restored the Wolf Fey magic yet. And all my efforts to get Breena only brought her closer to Kian. I didn’t do what you asked. I never married a Fey.”

“But you won the hearts of the people,” my grandfather said. “You united the Wolf Fey as never before. You won the respect of the Summer Fey – and now they see Wolves as true equals, true brothers, our sisters and brothers and comrades. There will no longer be any distinction between Wolf and Fey – all Fey are equal. All Fey are one.”

As they spoke, their power spilled into me. Their pride, their trust, flowed through me. It was my turn to shine – to be a champion. Just as Breena had a role to play in Feyland, just as Kian had one – so too did I have a mission. So too did I have a destiny.

It was my turn, now.

“So?” I looked up at the Summer King. “What next?”

The Summer King smiled. “The Sisters have begun to reach out to you,” he said. “It is only a matter of time.”

Logan, Breena, and Kian’s journeys continue in:

the Frost Series

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Enchanted Frost (Frost #8)

******

Prologue

Kian

If anyone had been looking down at me, from the peaks and heights of the Atlas Mountains that divided life from death, divided Feyland from the mysterious Fields, I know what they would have seen. A young man, his face ravaged by grief, the pale Fairy skin flushing with rage, with sorrow, with pain. A man who had lost everything.

I know what they would say. The same thing villagers and passersby had been whispering for days, now, as I wandered – aimlessly, lonely, trying to outrun the fear and pain that buzzed like mosquitoes in my ears. I could hear nothing; I could not think. All I could do was run. Away from the pain of losing her. Away from the voices and the whispers that had dogged my steps. “There goes Prince Kian. Jilted his fiancée, don’t you know? They were so in love – I knew such things never end well! His mother would never have stood for such passion, such weakness. And she’s proved right in the end. The Winter heir has lost everything because his heart ran too hot with the blood of desire.”

It was true, after all. Love had led me to this place. Love had led me into Breena’s arms, her lightly golden skin, into the crevice at her neck that always smelled like jasmine and bergamot, where I would lay my head. Led me to her lips that tasted of sweet and tart berries. Let me to her long chestnut hair which I so loved to curl about my fingertips. Love had made me weak for her – and for a while it had made me strong, too. Together, Breena and I had determined that we would reunite Feyland – and we had! We had ended the war. We had brought Winter and Summer back together. We had fought off the Dark Hordes, the Pixies, banshees – all manner of creatures that once populated the pages of my family’s bestiary. We had restored the Twin Suns of Feyland; we had restored food to the larder of every peasant and farmer in both halves of Feyland.

And still it was not enough.

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Table of Contents

Copyright

A Note from the Author

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

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