The blindfold didn’t seem to faze the girl. Nyxabella. Her head stayed tipped to one side as they walked the dark, dusty streets, like she was listening to something, and every once in a while she would whisper something almost inaudible to herself. Daivad noticed how soft and smooth her skin was under his hand—completely unscarred and obviously pampered. As she would be if she lived in the castle. Under her own sweet, human scent, Daivad caught traces of other scents, as familiar and unwelcome as the scent of Richard he’d picked up earlier. The concoction of lavender and rosemary that Aran insisted all the castle linens be washed in. The field horsetail that servants used to polish all the metalwork the queen kept on display. 

Suddenly, she asked, “Name the straw that snapped your back.”

“What?” This girl made no sense.

“The one that made you leave,” she clarified. “It might be the only story of your time as royalty that I haven’t heard.”

After a moment of consideration, he asked, “Who told the rest?”

“No one, if you ask the queen. But behind her back, everyone. All this time, and everyone still loves to whisper about the Rebel Beast.” Her lips quirked up in a sideways smile.

For some reason, that knowledge pissed him off. “The nobles are bored as ever.”

Now her lips split in a grin. 

Ahead of them, Bennen shoved open the door to a beat-up old house on the edge of town. The one man that sat on the landing above nodded at Daivad and his posse as they passed below him. Nyxabella deftly maneuvered into the narrow doorway like she wasn’t blindfolded, even as Daivad’s shoulders bumped the frame. With narrowed eyes, he tugged at the back of her blindfold to make sure it was tight enough. 

Ben kicked back the straw and burlap on the floor to reveal a wooden hatch. He pried it open, and as Daivad ushered Nyxabella into the tunnel below, he caught the look Ben sent him from under his hood. Daivad had known Bennen since they were children, and he’d been Daivad’s right hand ever since. A look shared between them might as well be a full conversation. And the one they shared now went as follows:

Who the hell is this girl?

Fuck if I know.

Is it wise to bring her back to camp?

No.

Then why are you doing it?

But Daivad broke the look off there, because he had no answer. Or, more accurately, he was afraid Ben would find an answer in his eyes that Daivad didn’t want to share.

They all made it into the tunnel—Daivad had half hoped Nyxabella would knock her head on the low-hanging tunnel ceiling simply because it would be the least strange thing she’d done tonight, but she ducked without being told. She was really starting to irritate him. Rux, bringing up the rear, closed the hatch behind them and plunged them all into darkness. At least until Daivad knocked a fist against the stone tunnel wall, waking up the runes he’d carved there when he’d cut this tunnel. 

It was a secret the heads of Urden’s governing bodies and Daivad shared. Daivad would help them reinforce the city, and they allowed him and his people access to the city and supplies when they needed them. And, of course, they promised discretion as well.

Stirred by the runes, the glowstones set into the wall blinked to life one by one down the tunnel, filling the cramped space with a greenish-blue light. The moment that hatch had closed behind them, Daivad’s skin began to itch, and even when the tunnel floor sloped down, allowing them all to straighten for a time, it did little to help. He cursed himself for the millionth time for not cutting this tunnel much, much bigger. Thankfully, the trek beneath Urden’s wall wasn’t too long, and the tunnel was soon sloping back up to an entrance blocked by a large boulder. Using the arm that wasn’t occupied holding Nyxabella, Daivad sunk his magic into the boulder and shoved it aside. 

It was a good thing he hadn’t released Nyxabella because the moment the night air hit them she gasped and leaned forward, impatient having to wait for Ben and Lenna to climb out of the tunnel before she could. The second the path was clear, she tugged against his grasp, not like she was trying to escape him but like she was hurrying him, like a child tugging on their mother’s hand on the way to a sweet stand.

How she knew despite the blindfold that the enormous black Great Wolf stood waiting for them and why she was so eager to get within snapping distance was a mystery to him.

Free from the tunnel, Nyxabella bounced on her toes before the Wolf that stood several heads taller than her, a joy-bright smile on her face. “Can I free my eyes of this rag for a second?” she asked. “I just want to see her. I’ll put it right back on.”

“No,” Daivad said and dragged her forward.

The Wolf, Maxea, stood at attention, utterly unfazed by the excitable blonde that babbled nonsense at her while the others’ horses munched on grass or dozed, unafraid of this monster-filled forest thanks to their oversized canine shepherds. Ben let out a shrill whistle and Drauge, another Great Wolf, stumbled out of the darkness and shook himself awake. 

Breathless, Nyxabella asked, “Oh, please, just for a second—?”

Ignoring the girl, Daivad gestured to Maxea and she immediately lowered to the ground. He pulled Nyxabella forward and—

She was beside herself. “We’re going to ride her?”

Through clenched teeth, Lenna suggested, “I can take her. She has those knives, she shouldn’t stay so close to you, sir.”

Daivad sent Lenna a side-eye that said he wasn’t buying her sweet shit and nudged Nyxabella forward, but she needed no encouragement. Still talking to Maxea (“I bet you are absolutely stunning, strong girl!”), she swung a leg over Maxea, who then stood. Daivad swung up behind her on his own.

Though there was no saddle, the girl seemed unconcerned. She leaned forward to rub along Maxea’s neck, going right to the spot Daivad knew was her favorite. He felt Maxea suppress a shudder. 

He could have warned Nyxabella before he signaled for Maxea to head for home. But he didn’t. The Wolf sprang forward, and Nyxabella shrieked with joy.