The Wolf Prince

by Claire M Banschbach

  “Ready?” Lars’s voice startled her.

  Rose shouldered her pack and stood, starting to call her thanks to Jannik, but his frown froze the words in her throat. He stared at them again, gaze lingering on Killian. She walked quickly to the door, frowning. I think he might know who we are.

  “Think people believe that story about us?” Rose glanced at Lars once they’d reached the relative safety of the street.

  “As flattering as it is, I’m hoping not,” Lars admitted. “If it’s spread this far, who knows who else has heard it.”

  “True. Shouldn’t take long t’ get supplies, and then we can be gone before we find out.” She picked her way down the muddy street.

  “How do you know where you’re going?” Lars followed her around the edge of a particularly large puddle. Killian padded carefully around the opposite side with delicate paws.

  “Most towns aren’t that different. Supply shops should be close t’ the inn. How’re your negotiating skills?” She tossed a grin back at him.

  “Better saved for important state affairs, not for buying meat and biscuits.” He ducked under dripping roof water and splashed her.

  She slid out of reach and scowled. “Really, brother?”

  “Payback for this morning.” He winked, flicking more droplets at her.

  She wrinkled her nose at him, but grinned, scooping a handful from a water barrel under the butcher’s eaves, tossing it at him. Lars dodged with a smirk, which faded into a yelp of alarm as his boots slipped precariously in the mud.

  He recovered without incident and they both laughed until Killian jumped in a puddle, showering them both.

  “Killi!” They yelled in unison. He retreated with a bark and a flick of his tail.

  Lars brushed mud flecks from his trousers. “Remind me why I love him?”

  Rose laughed. “Because he’s your brother?”

  Lars’s smile faltered for a brief second. “Aye.”

  “It’ll be all right.”

  His smile wasn’t quite the same as a few minutes before and he obviously tried to force confidence into his voice. “I know.”

  “Come on, let’s see if an aspiring, apprentice Ranger can teach you anything.” She tapped his arm and led the way into the butcher’s shop.

  Fifteen minutes later, they emerged from the bakery with the last of their supplies. Killian stood, tail swishing slowly back and forth, in front of the short man from the inn the night before. Lars cursed and dashed toward the man kneeling in the mud. Rose’s hand found her knife as she followed.

  “Prince Lars, I presume?” The man spoke first, glancing up with no trace of alarm at their charge.

  “What do you want?” Lars stiffened, feet sliding into a fighting stance.

  “To talk to your brother.” He nodded to Killian, rising to his feet in a fluid motion, no trace of mud on his trousers.

  “Who are you?” Lars clenched a hand around his knife, eyes narrowing.

  Killian growled, looking between Lars and the stranger. As the night before, he stood relaxed, his growl pitching higher in some sort of insistence.

  “My name is Felix.” The man eyed Lars with curiosity. “We’ve been looking out for you. We heard you’d been helped as far as Halden.”

  “You’re a faery?” Rose’s voice grew louder in her sudden surprise.

  A flash of annoyance crossed Felix’s face. “Don’t shout. These villagers already poke around in the woods as it is.”

  “How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Lars straightened. “You could be working with the sorcerer, for all we know.”

  Rose squared her shoulders, ready to back Lars if the man should turn into a threat. Though he seems more than capable to handle the two of us.

  Disgust creased Felix’s mouth into a frown. “Don’t worry. The only reason I’d get close to that filth is to kill him.”

  Killian growled again, and Felix nodded.

  “That faery’s cloaking spell was clever, but we have to cross the border to get some proper aid. I’m not going to be much help reversing the sorcerer’s spell.”

  “You can understand him?” Rose lifted her eyebrows.

  So far, faeries had been the only ones able to interpret Killian, and rather poorly at that. The man didn’t seem to have much trouble.

  “Not well. I’m not very strong with animals. Though Damian would say I’m just not good at talking to anyone.”

  “Damian?” Lars had still not relaxed his stance.

  “My brother. We’ll need his help. Come on.” Felix jerked a thumb back down the main street.

  Killian looks like he trusts him. And Father says to trust an animal’s instincts. Rose moved to follow, but Lars hesitated. He glanced to Killian, who gave an impatient huff.

  Lars frowned at Felix, but gave in.

  “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 17

  Killian loped to catch up with the smart pace Felix set out of the town. New and nervous energy swept through him. They would meet the Myrnian faeries within the next few hours, and if they had a way to help him, he could be human by sundown.

  The thought almost stopped him in his tracks. He’d only been cursed for a little under two weeks, but at times it truly hadn’t seemed a misfortune.

  He leapt effortlessly over a pool of water barricading the path. Did he want to give this up—this sense of belonging in his own skin?

  He caught a glimpse of Lars trudging beside him, shadows of hope lingering in his brother’s features. Remaining a wolf meant giving up his brother. His family. He wasn’t ready for that.

  Pine trees began to march closer to the road, gathering in whispering clusters. Killian let the tang fill his nose as he listened to the industry of the animals that resided in the protection of the forest. A squirrel chattered boldly from its safe perch. Killian growled back, unimpressed by its remonstrance. It shrilled a final warning and threw a pinecone, wailing victory as Killian followed Felix off the path.

  “I’m glad you’re around to protect us from the scary animals.” Lars pressed his lips together in mock seriousness.

  Killian snapped at Lars’s leg and his brother darted away, his laugh drowning out Rose’s snicker.

  Felix paused and glanced back at them. “This is the border.”

  Killian almost expected a physical marker, but the forest spread away uninterrupted.

  “Killi, wait!” Lars knelt beside him. “What about the sorcerer?”

  A flash of fear quivered through Killian’s paws. It had been easy to forget the sorcerer’s power when he knew the spell protected him. Discovery lay only a few feet away.

  He looked to Felix, who only shrugged.

  “It’s your decision.”

  There’s really no choice. We have to keep going.

  He padded across the border, his fur prickling as Alfar’s protective spell melted away. Killian fought the sudden urge to run. As if that would keep Noak from finding him.

  He planted his paws more firmly into the rain-softened dirt and looked back at his companions.

  Lars tightened his grip on his sword, looking faintly queasy. Rose had also lost some of her confident air, her shoulders drooping and a frown creasing one side of her mouth. Felix waited in studied patience. Killian knew he’d have to get them moving or Lars would start doubting himself again.

  “Come on!” He trotted a few paces, joining Felix. Lars and Rose trailed along behind them.

  Felix turned onto a faint game trail. Wolf prints scattered the mud. A pack wasn’t far. Killian considered calling to them until the stronger scent of human teased the breeze, reminding him of his own pack.

  “How much longer?” Killian trotted beside Felix.

  “Soon,” Felix replied.

  Killian caught a strange scent—something that shouldn’t belong in the forest. A slender shape flickered between shadows, its white fur stained with black spots in a strange patchwork disguise.

  Cat. He snarled.

  The scent faded
as a man appeared in its place. Rose and Lars started at his sudden approach.

  “Damian.” Felix nodded.

  “Felix.” Damian clapped him on the shoulder.

  Killian couldn’t help but stare at the four parallel scars that marked the right side of Damian’s face, twisting the edge of his mouth. Something about the gruesome sight seemed familiar.

  He looked away, murmuring an apology, as the faery leveled hazel eyes at him.

  Damian spared him a brief half smile and greeted the others.

  “Now, then.” He knelt before Killian, his movements eerily resembling Felix. The two were no doubt brothers, with the same hazel eyes, despite Felix’s darker hair. Damian’s neat appearance gave Felix’s lightly-creased tunic an almost disheveled look.

  “May I?” Damian lifted one hand.

  “Of course.” Killian closed his eyes as Damian placed his hand on Killian’s head. As with the other faeries on their journey, Killian could sense the faery’s power. It rolled from the faeries in waves, but his human companions didn’t seem to detect it. Damian felt different, a softer, more comforting magic, and the wolf within him knew he could trust this faery.

  “I’ve never seen the like,” Damian said. “Old magic and new bound up together. All three of you have a touch of old magic about you. Interesting.”

  “I did tell them you’d be helpful.” Felix snorted.

  Damian grinned and ran a hand over Killian’s left shoulder. “This healed well.”

  The scar twinged in faint discomfort under his prodding fingers, but Killian remained still.

  “They both fussed enough.”

  Damian flashed another smile.

  “Can you help?” Lars broke in.

  “It will take some time before I know for certain.” Damian gained his feet in an effortless motion. “I need to know more about both curses and speak with faeries more talented than I.”

  Felix’s scoff indicated he thought no such faery existed. Damian shot him an exasperated glare.

  Brothers.

  “We don’t have much time,” Lars said. “The water faery said his spell would protect Killian only until he crossed the border.”

  “I can replace the spell,” Damian said.

  “Or we can use you to draw the sorcerer in.” Felix shrugged, and ran his thumb along the metal rod tucked in his belt.

  “Felix!” Damian glared at his brother. Felix spread his hands in a gesture that wasn’t apologetic.

  “We won’t.” Damian turned to Lars. “You two boys are royals of Calvyrn. We won’t risk your life. I have been tasked with finding and dealing with the sorcerer. We’ll find another way.”

  “I’ll do it,” Killian barked and laid back his ears. Though I will most definitely regret it later.

  “Killi, don’t even think about it.” Lars scowled down at him.

  “You can understand him?” Damian raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  “We’re brothers. I know when he’s going to do something stupid.”

  “Sounds familiar.” Felix smirked.

  Damian smiled and looked down at Killian. “No, I can’t ask that of you.”

  “It’s my life.” Killian stared up into Damian’s eyes. “The sorcerer cursed me. We use me to find him and break this curse.”

  “What did he say?” Lars demanded.

  “He wants to do it.”

  “Killian, no!” A note of desperation filled Lars’s voice. He dropped to a knee. “It’s too dangerous.”

  Killian nudged underneath his brother’s arm and wagged his tail. “So is running for the rest of my life. Or never becoming human again.”

  Lars pulled him close. “What if something happens to you? What am I going to tell Mother and Father?”

  “You can’t always protect me.”

  “It’s my job to protect you.” Lars sighed. “You’re my little brother. I should have been there when the sorcerer attacked you.”

  Killian butted his head into Lars’s chest. “Don’t be stupid. He’d have killed you.”

  “Killi!”

  He opened his mouth in a wolfish grin. “Calm down. We beat the sorcerer and go home.”

  “How are we going to defeat a sorcerer? It’s just us.”

  “You’ve got me.” Rose raised her chin. “You two are like t’ annoying brothers I never wanted. Besides, if we find t’ sorcerer, we might find my father.”

  Killian squirmed out of Lars’s strangle-hold and wound about her legs. She grinned down at him.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “We’ll be with you as well,” Damian said. “And an army of faeries if necessary.”

  “Fine.” Lars stood and crossed his arms, sighing.

  Like you wouldn’t have done the same in a heartbeat if our places were switched, idiot?

  “We’ll keep moving.” Damian rested a hand on his sword. “There are warded places for you to stay. We’ll draw the sorcerer to our own battleground.”

  Damian turned to his brother. “Felix, take them to the oak. I’ll report to King Borys and find you later.”

  Brown wings sprouted from Damian’s back. Like Kaja, the wings looked to be made of a toughened membrane, but Damian’s stretched tight over a bony framework like a bat. The wings gave a powerful flap, stirring the rich loam with the wind, and he vanished into the treetops.

  “Come on.” Felix kicked straying leaves from his boots. “It’ll take a few hours to get to the oak.”

  He took the lead again, but this time Lars’s hand rested on his sword and Rose carried her strung bow in her hand. Killian paused for a long moment before loping after them.

  So much for being human by sundown. His fur prickled uncomfortably at the thought of facing more magic. I’m definitely going to regret this. Though a small part of him was still glad to be a wolf for a little longer.

  Chapter 18

  Something has changed.

  A persistent nagging prodded the back corner of Noak’s mind. He halted his trudging feet and called up his tracking spell.

  Delighted laughter burst from him when he saw a shaggy brown wolf padding through a sun-speckled forest. No more faery spell protecting you!

  The image hovered between his outstretched hands, the blurred edges preventing him from picking out any other details.

  A girl in trousers and tunic appeared in a flash of red. She walked beside the wolf for a few seconds before vanishing beyond the edge. Her green and brown clothes reminded him of the troublesome Rangers that had interfered since he had entered Calvyrn.

  I didn’t know those meddling idiots allowed girls. Interesting.

  Noak continued to watch the wolf, taking the time to admire the effects of his spell. It was a piece of art, if he might even say so, perfected by the canvas of aged magic just waiting for a brush.

  He brought his hands together, dispelling the rippling picture.

  Noak let his eyes slide closed, allowing his mind to empty of all thoughts save one—the scarred face of Calvyrn’s most valiant knight, Sir Einar. He’d been leading the search for the prince and, according to Noak’s contact, was headed to Myrnius as well.

  He murmured the words, letting them slip from his lips and scurry away to find and cling to the knight before spreading his hands wide. A new image floated—six men on horseback, clad in simple, unadorned tunics and mail coats, their bearing marking them as anything but common. Glimpses of the river flashed between the horses’ flying hooves and Noak frowned. If he was not careful, paths might cross with unwanted consequences.

  He snapped his hands together. “How far to Myrnius?”

  “Less than a day,” Finn reassured him.

  Noak grimaced. They’d been journeying for two days with only necessary rest breaks. The thought of another forced march was about as appealing as facing a troll.

  The brothers’ stoic faces were as unchanging as ever, only the dark rings shadowing their eyes indicated their weariness. But then, Noak didn’t look much better. His robe’s s
ilver embroidery had been turned a fine brown and the reek of their fires clung to the seams.

  “We rest for a few hours and continue.”

  They nodded in silent affirmation, all four sinking wearily to the ground and sleeping despite the brightness of the afternoon sun. Noak curled into the folds of his robe, thinking of the messages to be sent to his men in Celedon Forest.

  For once the afternoon heat felt good, soaking through the cloth to soothe his aching joints. His eyes slid closed against his will. Messages could wait.

  Chapter 19

  Einar reined his charger up at the bank of the river where the water skimmed over the shallow sands of the ford. King Jonas loosened the reins to allow his mount to drink, dismounting to refill his own waterskin. The soldiers with them followed their leader’s example.

  Einar pulled out the map, spreading it against his horse’s flank.

  “Well?” Jonas came around to join him.

  “Moss is the closest town to the border and to Celedon. We should be there by tomorrow.” Einar drained the last of his waterskin as the king took the map, studying it.

  “Resupply there.” Jonas refolded the map. “I should send word to King Stefan before the entire neighboring royal family invades his forest.”

  Einar chuckled as he dipped the canteen into the river. “That might be for the best.”

  “I would say so,” a voice agreed.

  Einar flinched, jumping away and tossing the waterskin down in favor of a more formidable weapon. He wasn’t the only one to blink in confusion at the woman who stood in the shallows.

  “Oh, I should have remembered from last time.” She giggled. “Sir Einar.” The river curled with her curtsey, her pale blue dress somehow escaping the damp.

  “Who’s asking?” He growled, sword still at the ready, confident in the men who protected his flanks.

  “I am Kaja. I spoke to your nephews four days ago.”

  “What?” Jonas pushed forward.

  Einar held out an arm to prevent his advance. “Who are you?”