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

None of them knew the half of it.

Neve rose and turned to face the court. Raffe stood on the front row, arms crossed and mouth tight. He tried to smile when he caught her eye, and Neve’s cold heart lurched.

She’d stayed away from Raffe recently, both because of time and because of the bone-deep, logic-defying terror that somehow death had attached itself to her, clearing space where she needed it. It made no sense, and she knew it wasn’t true. Neve hadn’t killed anyone, by her order or her hand.

But she couldn’t risk it. Not with Raffe.

They’d have time. When this was over, she and Raffe would have all the time in the world. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about somehow endangering him, somehow marking him for death by her need.

“Neverah Keyoreth Valedren.” Tealia’s voice was high and breathy, a wash of sound in the vast hall. “Sixth Queen of her House.”

Polite applause from the assembly. The room was barely full; only the few Valleydan nobles and a handful from Floriane and northern Meducia had traveled to be part of her hasty coronation. The other countries on the continent had done their duty by attending Red’s send-off; they wouldn’t be eager to venture into Valleyda’s unpleasant chill again until prayer-taxes came due.

Arick stepped up to the dais, a thin silver circlet gracing his brow. A bandage still wrapped his palm, but it was clean, no trace of black or scarlet. With a reassuring smile, he offered his arm and walked her down the aisle. His muscles flexed beneath her palm, and his other hand came up to settle over top of hers.

Raffe watched them as they passed, and Neve kept her eyes trained straight ahead.

Things between her and Arick had shifted since his return. A strange, quick closeness born of keeping the same secrets about the Shrine, about what they did there. There was something different about him now, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Arick, while a good friend, had always possessed a tendency toward self-absorption. It wasn’t malicious, and didn’t even seem purposeful— but Arick was looking out for himself, first and foremost, and things that didn’t immediately concern him seemed to sail over his head.

Not so lately. He’d been attentive to her ever since Isla died. The morning after, he showed up at her door, bearing coffee and a platter full of pastries.

“I’m so sorry, Neverah.” Odd occurrence number one: He’d never referred to her by her full name before. Usually Neve would balk at it, but coming from him, it sounded different than it did from courtiers. Used for its gravitas, to tell her he meant what he said.

Her lips had pressed together, a bloodless line. She nodded. Then, taking a breath, she’d said the thing that had bothered her the whole night through, the sharp part of a not-quite-grief. “It might make things easier.”

The early-morning light in the window had washed out many of the details of his face, making him a sun-soaked blur with no shadow, but Neve still noticed his brow climb.

She’d swallowed. Squared her shoulders. “We do what we have to do.”

A pause. Then a nod as Arick passed her the tray and cup. “We do what we have to do.”

She knew what it looked like to everyone else, this new closeness between them. But Raffe knew she and Arick better than most, well enough to know neither of them could forget Red so easily. Still, there was sadness in the set of his mouth as he watched Arick lead Neve back down the aisle, and it made her stomach churn.

She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him so badly it felt like the words physically dammed in her throat. But Kiri and Arick insisted on complete secrecy. Kiri because the ideas of her second, smaller Order were technically sacrilege until she and Neve cemented them into religious truth with their political power. Arick because . . . well. She wasn’t really sure.

The doors closed behind them. Neve dropped her hand from Arick’s arm. “How long do we have?”

He glanced at the place on his arm where she’d touched him, a quick dart of his eyes with an emotion she couldn’t read. “There’s no rush. Give Tealia a few more moments to enjoy being High Priestess.”

They were alone, but still Neve’s spine went rigid. She whipped her head to look down the halls, to make sure they couldn’t be overheard.

“Peace, Neverah,” Arick murmured. “Everything will be fine.”

She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, but his reassurance did somewhat loosen the knot in her middle.

“It will take Tealia at least ten minutes to get back to the Temple.” Arick propped a foot on the wall behind him, mindless of the scuff marks his boots would leave. “Kiri should have the others already gathered inside.”

Neve paced a tight line back and forth. “And you secured the position for her? At the Temple in the Rylt?”

“They expect her by the end of the week. Ryltish weather is even less agreeable than Valleydan, and they don’t get many sisters willing to live there. They were happy to have her and anyone else who refuses to join the Order of the Five Shadows.” Arick gritted his teeth. “I still find that name ridiculous.”

Another slight loosening of that stomach-knot. The priestesses who didn’t want to join them would be gone, out of Valleyda, across the sea. No need for her strange storm of death to touch anyone else.

Arick watched her pace with something apprehensive in his eyes, but he didn’t speak, and nothing else about his stance spoke of nervousness. In fact, he looked nearly nonchalant, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, an insouciant dark curl falling over his forehead.

The ten minutes passed. Arick’s hand was gentle on her arm, halting her pacing. A small smile tugged at his mouth as he gestured her forward. “My Queen.”

It stopped