For the Wolf by Hannah Whitten (freda ebook reader .txt) 📕

“I’m here.”

The quiet reassurance soothed some of the anxious tension in her limbs. Letting out a long, slow breath, she tried to quiet her racing thoughts, to focus her intention. Growth, roots digging deeper into the soil as ivy leaves spread wide.

When it was clear in her mind, she reached for her power. Tentative, the barest touch, but it opened like a flower.

And for a brief, gleaming moment, Red thought she could do it.

But memory was a current, and the deliberate touch of power pulled her under, drowned her in panic. All of it ran behind her eyes like it was happening over again: an eruption of branch and root and thorn, blood spraying, rib cages shattered by sharp trunks, Neve slumping to the ground—

“Red!” She heard it through a haze, distant as shouting into a cyclone. All she could see was black forest, black sky, all she could taste was soil and blood. Distantly, she felt her spine locking up, her throat working for air that wouldn’t come, her body shutting itself down in a final attempt to keep her magic shackled.

A strong grip on her shoulders, turning her to wide amber eyes. The Wolf’s warm, scarred hands against her cheeks. “Red, let go!”

His voice, his eyes wrenched her from memory’s grip. Red gasped, pulling air into lungs that suddenly worked again.

Eammon released her almost immediately, like her skin burned. “What in all the shadows was that?”

The table’s edge dug into her back, a counterpoint to her thundering pulse. “I can’t do it. I thought I could, after the thread bond, but I can’t.”

“You have before. You did a week ago.”

“That wasn’t control! That was barely containment!” Red slashed her hand toward the window. “Want to try throwing me to the Wilderwood again? See if that sparks some control?”

Eammon stepped back, hands raised in surrender. Firelight flickered across the scars on his palm.

The door below clattered open and shattered the fraught silence, footsteps rushing up the stairs. Fife’s reddish hair topped the landing, sweaty strands stuck to his forehead.

“Word from the Edge,” he panted. “Breach to the west, but there’s a complication.”

“What kind of complication?” Eammon’s eyes were still on Red, somewhere between angry and wounded.

Fife’s jaw tightened. “They were looking for a break in the border again. Found a full breach instead. And someone . . . fell.”

That was enough to pull Eammon’s attention away. He nodded, one jerk of his head. “Lock the Keep, then come back here. It’s more secure.”

“I should come with you.”

“Too dangerous. If someone has already fallen into a full-fledged breach, they’ll be looking to pull in others. You’ll be more helpful here.” Eammon’s gaze flickered nearly imperceptibly to Red, then back to Fife.

The other man’s brows drew together. He nodded.

As Fife disappeared down the stairs, Eammon crossed to the fireplace. A long knife gleamed on the mantel, as well as the short dagger he’d worn before. The one he sliced his hand with. Eammon took both. “Stay here.” He glanced at her over his shoulder, eyes stern. “Do not leave the tower.”

Questions and admonishments rioted through her head. But when Red opened her mouth, what came out was “Be careful.”

Chapter Thirteen

R ed sat next to the window with her thumbnail between her teeth. Fife had brought a basket of slightly wrinkled apples for lunch, but worry gnawed her middle in place of hunger. Ridiculous. Worrying over the Wolf, going to do Wolf-things, was ridiculous.

And yet.

She wouldn’t necessarily call Eammon a friend. She wasn’t sure if she even liked Eammon, despite the strange kinship they’d forged in mutual entrapment. But he’d saved her, twice now, and even if it was more because he needed her than for any personal reason, it still counted for something. He hadn’t quite gained her friendship, but he’d gained her trust, and the fact it was their only tether made it stronger.

And if something happened to Eammon, what would that mean for the Wilderwood? Would the burden of it all, the weakened sentinels and the shadow-rot and the monsters clamoring for release, fall wholly to her? Red didn’t think she could keep it up alone, not for long. Eammon hadn’t been able to. What would happen to Neve, to the whole world beyond the Wilderwood, when she inevitably failed?

And so, worry. Stomach-churning, palm-tingling worry, and her eyes fixed to the forest so she didn’t miss his return.

Fife watched her from the chair Eammon had vacated, turned around backward so his good hand could rest on its back. He’d been silent since he returned to the tower. While the awkward quiet might’ve bothered Red in any other situation, right now she was too full of nerves to notice until it was broken.

“He’ll be fine, you know.” Fife tapped a knuckle against the back of the chair. “This is business as usual around here. Well, other than someone falling in the breach, but even that, Eammon can take care of more easily than the rest of us. The villagers push at the border all the time.”

His voice startled her, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Red’s brow knit. “What does that mean, push at the border? And what villagers?”

“At the Edge, beyond the Wilderwood’s northern boundary line. Descendants of the explorers who tried to see what was behind it, long ago— when the borders of the forest closed while they were still back there, they were trapped. The Wilderwood won’t let them through, but that doesn’t stop them from looking for weak spots, thinking they can find a place that will let them out.” Fife shrugged. “It’s pointless. If you’re stuck here, you’re stuck here for good.”

Red had never heard of the Edge, or anything beyond the Wilderwood, but it didn’t seem like Fife would be the one to ask for more information. Not when the resentment in his tone was nearly palpable.

She was too consumed with anxiety to muster much curiosity, anyway.

“He just looks . . .” She trailed off, unsure how to