Echo North(71)

She strides forward and I stumble after her.

The dark shapes on the edge of the clearing focus into a maze of thrones, occupied by cold figures I realize with horror are people, or what used to be people. We pace through them, and it takes everything I have to keep from being sick. All of them are dead, heads tilted forward or to the side, vines coiling tight around them, eyes staring vacantly into nothingness. Some are little more than brittle bones, some just dust in scraps of cloth. There are hundreds of them, both young and old, men and women. Every one has a crown on their head.

This is Hal’s fate, and mine, if I fail.

Mokosh doesn’t even glance their way.

Beyond the sea of thrones is a group of—I can only call them children. They run on two legs and some have human feet and hands and faces, but the rest of them is wolf: ears and snouts, flashing teeth and flagging tails. I get the feeling they’re Mokosh’s siblings. They run back and forth, howling and laughing, carrying a long vine between them that bursts with those red flowers. They weave the vine around themselves as they run, and the vine looks to have a life all its own, an evil, vicious snake.

Mokosh growls as we approach, and suddenly we’re caught in the midst of their frantic, teeming ranks. They coil the vine tight around us, the red flowers catching at my sleeves and my ankles, hidden barbs stinging like wasps.

“Get off!” Mokosh barks. “Wretches, get off!” She pushes them away, none too gently, and they yip and whine and let us pass, shedding flowers like red snow in their wake. Tension pulls tight between Mokosh’s shoulders.

I forget how to breathe.

Ten paces in front of us stand three more thrones. Two of them are empty.

But on the third throne, a circlet of gold pressed onto his hair, sits Hal.

The sight of him pierces through me, as cold and sharp as the wind over the frozen lake. He is worn and thin and filthy. There are bruises on his face and a small, angry scar on his right cheek, like—

Like the burn from a spot of oil.

He is chained to the throne, a silver band around his throat, matching manacles on his wrists and ankles. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t even look at me.

I am sorrow and rage and hope. My fire burns brighter than the Wolf Queen behind my bedroom door.

I found him.

And now I will save him.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

SO, ECHO ALKAEV. YOU HAVE FOUND your way to my wood.” The Wolf Queen’s voice resonates behind me, clear and cold and brittle as ice.

She sweeps past me and Mokosh to settle on the central throne and I let my eyes follow her. This throne is the largest, made of twining vines and tree branches, more of those red flowers blooming bright from its edges. She looks the same as she did in my dreams, silver hair and clawed hands, angular face and lupine ears. She looks more human than her daughter, but Mokosh is more beautiful.

I look her square in the eye, and hold fiercely to my fire. “I have come to free Hal.”

She regards me with a cool indifference, and the scent of the red flowers growing from her throne burns strong. It’s cloying, too sweet. It chokes me. “Free him? He dwells willingly in my court, according to the terms of our agreement.”

“Is that why you’ve bound him where he sits?”

I don’t take my eyes from the Wolf Queen’s—I don’t dare—but I can feel Hal watching me, and it gives me strength.

“He will be more than willing when his time is fulfilled, and that is soon now. Quite soon. I am surprised you have gotten here before it expired.”

“I came on the back of the North Wind.”

“If that were true you would have gotten here faster.” She taps her clawed fingers against the arms of her throne. “But I fear your journey has been in vain. I cannot release him, and even if I could I would not. You are human. Frail. You have nothing to offer me.” Mokosh grunts, throwing me one swift, piercing glance, before going to sit on the third throne, tension in every line of her body. For the first time, I wonder what deal she made with her mother, what she could possibly want so badly she would barter her life away to get it.

Everything within me yearns to look at Hal, but I fix my gaze on the Queen. “What are his terms? What are the rules you have bound him under?”

“What do you know of terms and rules but what I have told you?” She stands from her throne and strides over to Hal. He trembles as she approaches him, and bile rises acrid in my throat.

“I have much to thank you for.” The Queen brushes one claw across the scar on Hal’s cheek. He flinches back from her, but the silver band keeps him from moving very far. “I thought you would take him from me. But now he is here, forever. He will marry my daughter and become immortal. As I am.” She smiles, and I try not to shudder at the sight of her jagged teeth.

I dare a glance at Mokosh. “What did she promise you? What deal did you make?”

But Mokosh doesn’t answer, and I turn back to the Queen. I fight to keep the shake from my voice. “I won’t let you have him. I won’t let you damn him forever.”

“Won’t let me?” She draws her hand away from Hal’s cheek. “What do you even know about this boy before you?”

“His name is Hal, and you cursed him. To take the form of a wolf by day while his human self was trapped in the books and to resume his own shape by night.”