5

I turned around and let Griffin sweep my plait to the side to fasten the delicate chain around my neck. The pendant rested right at my sternum and caught the sunlight beautifully. It’d look much more in place with a fine gown than the plain linen I wore to travel.

I turned back around and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Take care of yourself,” I said. “Don’t have too much fun while I’m gone.”

“I should be saying that to you,” Griffin murmured. He kissed me gently on the cheek, and that felt like more of a promise than the pendant did.

“We need to head out, my lady,” Barion said, “if we want to make it to our first stop before nightfall.”

“Be safe,” Griffin said, and then with some reluctance he pulled away.

“I will,” I promised. As I climbed into the coach, I couldn’t help the twinge of excitement in my chest. This wasn’t exactly an ideal situation—but I was finally going to be able to explore some of the country with my own eyes. Some of the places I’d traced on maps I would finally get to see.

Barion climbed into the coach, rapped his knuckles on the front, and then settled onto the bench across from me with a heavy sigh. The horses nickered and began to pull us away from the manor. I leaned out of the small window of the coach and watched as Griffin shrank in size, until the manor was just a distant structure on the horizon.

“I don’t get what you see in that boy,” Barion muttered. He reached into the basket he’d brought with him and ripped off a chunk of crusty bread, as if we were already hours into our journey instead of just getting started. It was early in the morning, and we’d be riding in this bumpy coach all day. “There’s plenty of other lads in Daybreak that’d be honored to court a lady of your status. I doubt that Griffin could even raise a broadsword over his head.”

“This may shock you, Barion,” I said, “but a man’s ability to wield a sword is not the most important thing to me.”

“I’ve never seen him shift, either,” Barion said. “He could be a sad, mangy dog in there.”

I huffed. “What, like me?”

Barion rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen you shift, my lady, even if you’d prefer it otherwise. Your wolf is lovely. You should let her out more.”

“Griffin and I understand each other,” I said. “And our wolves do, too.”

Not that we’d ever shifted together—but Barion didn’t need to know that. That was private.

“Well, I suppose this competition has made those plans a little more complicated,” Barion said. “We’ll reach the inn by dusk, then continue on to Efra in the morning. We should arrive at the capital in time for the evening meal tomorrow. I’m curious to see how much superstitious fanfare there will be.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Ah, well, rumor has it the council has mentioned the importance of an old prophecy,” Barion said. “Something about the future queen needing to be of a certain pack.”

“Which one?” I sat up straighter. “He really believes in stuff like that?”

“I don’t think the king does at all,” Barion said. “But these councils, they can be old-fashioned. It’s just gossip.”

“So who does the prophecy say will be chosen?” I asked.

Barion rolled his eyes. “You’re not getting out of this competition so easily,” he said. “I don’t know the details of it, anyway.”

I leaned back against the seat. Barion peered at me as if waiting for any more argument, but then, satisfied by my silence, he let his head loll back against the upholstered cushions of the coach and almost immediately began to snore. How he slept in this bumpy carriage, I had no idea. I was too anxious and excited to sleep, so I turned my attention to the window, watching the lush landscape of the Daybreak pack territory fade into open prairie and then skeletal trees. The warm, humid air I was used to grew colder as we traveled, and it wasn’t long before I snuggled into my new coat, grateful for its fur lining. I saw now why the tailor had insisted I leave it outside of the trunk.

Barion woke up a few hours later, and we spent the ride mostly in silence. Barion thumbed through novels, miraculously with no nausea, while I gazed out the window and sketched in my notebook. The sun was dipping below the horizon by the time the coach approached the Peach Inn.

“This is where we’re staying?” I asked as the driver slowed the coach to a halt in front of the building.

“Yep,” Barion said cheerfully. “I love this place. Finest sausage stew within fifty miles. Hell, probably the only decent meal at all within fifty miles.”

He hopped out of the coach and walked around to my side before I could get it open myself. He swung it open and offered his hand to help me down. I was sore all over from being jostled along the road, and somehow tired, even we’d only stopped a few times. Despite my exhaustion, the Peach Inn didn’t look exactly welcoming. It was a stone structure with a thatched roof, three stories tall, with a stable behind it and smoke pouring from the chimney. A faded sign swung over the door. But Barion was right—the inn wasn’t really part of a town. There was nothing surrounding it but forest.

As excited as I was to see new things, I was suddenly intimidated walking inside. This was a place for travelers—people stopping on their way to further destinations. People like Barion, who were used to this life.

“Come, my lady,” Barion said. He swung his bag back over his shoulder. “I’ll have the staff take the coach to the stable and bring your luggage up.”

I followed him through the heavy wooden door of the inn. The scene within nearly made me reel back in disdain. The Peach Inn was like Marco’s, if Marco’s were rowdier, dimmer, and reeked even more of stale beer and undercooked meat. The hearth roared with a fire, and a bard with a lute bounded between tables filled with burly men in thick cloaks, singing filthy songs in a scratchy tenor. All eyes suddenly turned to us, and a shiver ran up my spine.

“Barion!” one of the men at the bar boomed. “Fancy seeing you out in these parts. On your way to the capital, I suppose?”

Barion grinned and clasped the stranger’s hand in greeting. “Whatever the work demands.”

The stranger’s bloodshot eyes fell to me, and he grinned wolfishly. “With precious cargo, I see.”

Barion stepped slightly between the stranger and me. Part of me wanted to shove him aside and meet this stranger eye to eye. But this was Barion’s turf, not mine.

“Mind your tongue,” Barion said.

“Will she be joining us for a few drinks?” the stranger asked. “Errol’s just opened a bottle of wine from the Duskmoon vineyards.”

“Absolutely not,” Barion said before I could even get a word in edgewise. “Keep your paws to yourself, brute.”

For a moment I thought teeth and claws were about to be bared, but Barion and the stranger instead both exploded into boisterous laughter. They clasped hands again and then Barion turned to me and picked up my trunk with ease.

“I’ll show you to your room, my lady,” he said. “These fools won’t trouble you at all.”