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

minds, or at least distract them with a spectacle.” Rheumy eyes turned to Neve. “Within the week.”

Her mouth was too dry to say anything, consent or denial or otherwise. Neve’s marriage was something she’d been able to push off for four years, far longer than she should’ve been allowed to, but with the encroaching sacrifice of her sister to the Wilderwood, no one had paid the preparations much mind. It seemed an abstract and distant thing, something to be dealt with later, always later.

Later was now, and Neve wanted to do nothing so much as bolt from the room and keep running.

“Let’s not be hasty.”

Kiri’s voice was quiet, but it echoed against the walls. She sat with her hands folded in her wide white sleeves, her head deferentially tilted toward the High Priestess. “I understand your reasoning, Holiness, and in any other circumstances, I’d agree. But Tealia is correct, at least on one thing.”

The other priestess’s cheeks colored.

“Piety is higher now than ever before,” Kiri continued. “After the birth of a Second Daughter, after sending her to the Wilderwood as intended. And look!” She spread her pale hands. “No monsters. Once again, we’ve kept the continent safe.” Her hands folded again, eyes glittering. “Perhaps the sacrifice didn’t bring back the Kings . . .”

Neve thought of the Shrine, of branches and blood, and the bark-shard pendant hidden in the drawer of her desk.

“. . . but still, her birth was a sign that they are listening. That they long for freedom, that they send us sacrifices in the hope that one will be enough to placate the Wolf. And they trust Valleyda— trust us— with that holy mission.” Fervent words, but delivered evenly. Kiri’s cold eyes slid once more to Neve. “If we remind them of that, effectively, Alpera should do anything we ask. And so should everyone else.”

Silence as they all weighed Kiri’s words. The High Priestess shifted in her seat. “True enough, Kiri,” she conceded. “But how do you propose we remind them?”

For a stretching, awful minute, Neve imagined the possibilities, the things she knew could be done with the strange yielding of their time in the Shrine. Magic. Magic Kiri claimed they pulled from the Shadowlands itself.

It was still hard for Neve to swallow— even with proof staring her in the face, years of quiet agnosticism were hard to overcome— but there really wasn’t any other explanation, and the results were undeniable. The small experiments she’d seen were convincing enough. With that power, trees could be withered, fields stricken dead, fertile farmland turned dark and cold.

Kiri’s lip rose in a smirk. “Prayer, of course.”

The tightness in Neve’s chest eased, but only slightly.

“Since his return, Arick has been far more pious,” Kiri continued. “He spends many nights in prayer in the Shrine, meditating on how best to help our countries. I believe he would be glad to help us, even before his marriage to Neverah.”

Tightness, coiling again.

“I propose that Arick accompany me and a selection of others to the Florish coast,” Kiri continued. “We will hold a prayer to clear the harbor.”

Widened eyes all around the room. Floriane’s harbor was in a picturesque bay, and the mouth of it often became choked with seaweed in the summer, sometimes so much that it blocked traffic. When that happened, workers had to dive in and clear the mess by hand. The Order prayed for it to remain clear at the beginning of every summer, for the Kings to somehow prevent the seaweed from overgrowing and blocking the ships. Some summers the growth was a problem, and some it wasn’t. Neve thought the prayers had very little to do with it one way or another.

Zophia raised a grizzled brow. “Prayers are most effective in Shrines, Kiri, not harbors. And the prayers for a clear sailing season were already made weeks ago, when Floriane sent their tax.”

Kiri dipped her head. “True. But I believe that the Kings will see the need for a miracle in this tumultuous time, and grant one. Mark me, when we make our prayers at the harbor, the mouth of the bay will be entirely cleared, and there will be no question that it was our beseeching that made it so.”

Another, longer pause. Zophia’s mouth drew to a pucker, her face inscrutable. “Such faith,” she murmured.

“A pretty idea, but unrealistic.” Tealia didn’t stick her tongue out and wag it, but her tone was the same as if she had. Her eyes darted from the High Priestess to Kiri. “Even if the Kings grant your request, who’s to say the Florish insurrectionists won’t kill you before you’re able to make your prayers? You’re putting quite a lot of faith in their piety.”

“To the contrary.” Kiri’s smile could cut glass. “I’m putting quite a lot of faith in the Five Kings. Or do you not think them capable of keeping us safe from a few unhappy rebels, Tealia?”

The other priestess shut her mouth, cheeks burning. Zophia looked between them, frowning, then to the Queen.

At the end of the table, Isla sat still and quiet, her eyes far away. The fist of fear closed tighter around Neve’s heart.

“Your faith is admirable,” the High Priestess said finally, when it became clear Isla wasn’t going to respond. She turned to Kiri. “And I think it’s worth a try, though I’m sure the Queen and I are in agreement that guards should accompany you as well.”

“One or two, perhaps.” The cut-glass smile didn’t quite meet Kiri’s eyes. “Truly, I don’t think more will be needed.”

Zophia made an unconvinced sound but didn’t press further. “I’ll approve it, but we must move quickly. Sending the shipment through Floriane will add days to its arrival. If after your vigil things still seem unstable, we can always go back to marriage.”

“I don’t see why we don’t anyway.” Belvedere, cutting back into the conversation after minutes of silent listening. “Surely it can’t hurt.”

His eyes were on Neve, expecting her to answer, but Kiri did first. “Of course not,” she