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Author: Abigail
last update Petsa ng paglalathala: 2026-11-01 04:42:59

When I could breathe again, I drank the water. My hands were steady, mostly.

"You want something from me," I said. "You didn't sit up all night watching me sleep out of concern."

"No."

"Then say it."

"I will." He leaned forward, forearms on his knees. "But I want you to understand how things stand first. Moonstone will tell every pack within a hundred miles what they saw in this room. By the end of the week, there won't be a border in the north that isn't looking for you. Some will want you dea
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  • The wolfless girl is the last obsidian    Choosing-b

    It was Kade who said it. Flat. Hard. His scar twisted with it. He pushed off the wall and came toward me, and I saw his hands were shaking."Isolde doesn't keep promises," he said. "I've sat across a table from that woman for nine years. You give her the girl, and she'll take the girl, and she'll burn us anyway. She'll say you were the *price,* and prices are only the first payment." His voice cracked. "Two of my people died holding a door for you. Pell was nineteen. You don't get to walk out of that door.""Kade...""You said their names. In the yard. You said Joss and Pell and you stopped your own claws an inch from my throat." He swallowed hard. "I've been in this pack twenty years and I never saw anybody do that. Don't you dare make it mean nothing."I couldn't speak."Your mother asked me to look after you," Mira said, softly. "I said no. I was frightened. I counted grain for thirteen years rather than keep a promise to a woman I'd met once." She stepped forward and took my face

  • The wolfless girl is the last obsidian    Choosing-a

    We buried my mother at sunset, on a bare hill behind the keep, between two graves that hadn't yet had time to grow grass.I hadn't asked anyone to come. I'd told Mira I wanted to do it alone. But when I climbed the slope with the bier on a borrowed cart, there were four hundred people standing on that hillside in absolute silence, in rows, with their heads bowed. Warriors with their swords sheathed. Women with their sleeves rolled. Children held very still against their mothers' hips.Nobody spoke. They'd simply come.Kade stood at the front with his scarred hand pressed over his heart. Ilsa beside him, with her jaw clamped shut and her eyes streaming. And at the end of the first row, small and solemn, the little girl with the wooden sword. She stepped out when I passed and held up a fistful of dried yarrow, tied with a bit of string, the best she could find in a camp in late autumn.I took it. I couldn't speak. I knelt and laid it in the grass.Beside me, on a litter of blankets, my

  • The wolfless girl is the last obsidian    Weapon-b

    They did. Vane and two of his riders lifted the broken halves of the stone, slowly, with great care, and set them on the grass. And there, in a shallow trench, lay a small, slight bundle in the rags of a cloak. I knelt beside it. I laid my hand against the cloth, and it was damp and cold, and I felt the shape of her through it. So small. I'd forgotten how small she was.In my pocket, the last chip of her stone went quiet.I lifted her out. I held her the way you hold a sleeping child, one arm under her, one against her, and I stood, and nobody spoke. Two hundred men of Riven and Thornwood stood in the torchlight with their heads bowed.*Hello, Mama,* I thought. *I got here.*My father didn't survive the night.He didn't die. Not yet. But Mira, who'd come up the slope behind the riders with a satchel and a fierce, grim face, took one look at him and shook her head. Thirteen years of sorrow and three days in a cell had worn through something in his chest, and he sat propped against a st

  • The wolfless girl is the last obsidian    Weapon-a

    I didn't run from the knife. I ran at it.My feet found the cold grass and my legs, which hadn't worked properly since the meadow, simply decided to. I crossed the ring in six strides with my shoulder screaming and my sister's name tearing out of my throat, and I hit Rowan from the side like a thrown stone.He was stronger than he looked. All old men like him are. His staff swung round and cracked against my ribs, and the gems at its tip flared red, and a wave of heat slammed me sideways. I stumbled. I saw the silver blade flash down toward Chloe's chest.I caught it.Bare-handed. I closed my fist around the blade and felt it bite through my palm to the bone, and the pain was so enormous it turned white. Silver. Silver in my blood, for the second time in one day. I held on. Blood poured down my wrist and off my elbow and onto the black slab at our feet.The altar *drank.*I felt it. A deep, low hum rolled up through the soles of my boots, and the spirals on the stone lit from the insid

  • The wolfless girl is the last obsidian    Her mother's grave-c

    I couldn't breathe."I may be wrong," Mira said. "I hope I'm wrong." She pressed a small leather pouch into my palm. It smelled of bitter willow and something burnt. "Chew a pinch if the pain gets bad. It'll dull the thread. Won't close it. Dull it."Then she was gone, swallowed by the crowd, and Vane's hand was under my elbow, and a black stallion was shying at the end of a rope.We rode hard through the dark.The forest was a blur of silver trunks and black gaps. My shoulder screamed with every stride, and cold sweat ran down my spine, and I held on to the pommel with one hand and Vane's coat with the other because he'd refused to let me ride alone. His arm was a bar across my ribs. He didn't speak. He didn't have to. I could feel his heart through his back, hard and quick and angry.Behind us came a hundred riders, silent as ghosts.Somewhere past midnight, though it felt like later, the moon cleared the treetops. Full and fat and the color of old bone. And with it came my sister,

  • The wolfless girl is the last obsidian    Her mother's grave-b

    He walked out of the shadow of the nearest stone, leaning on his staff. The black gems at its tip were lit from within, a deep, sullen red. Behind him came Garrick, gray and tight-jawed, and beside him, in a white dress and a silver ribbon, Chloe.She wasn't smiling. She walked stiffly, like someone moving through water, one hand pressed against her ribs. Her face was the color of candle wax. There were dark smudges under her eyes. When she saw me, her gaze skittered away and came back."Sloane Ashcroft," said Rowan, mildly. "How kind of you to come.""Let them go.""I'm afraid not.""You said there'd be an exchange.""I said a great many things." His thin mouth curved. "I find that people hear what they most wish to."I stood up. I felt the cracked chip of my mother's stone in my pocket, one small shard I'd kept on the roof. It was warm. Just barely. I closed my fist around it."There's a grave here," I said. "Isn't there?"Something moved in the old man's face."Under the altar," I

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