A River of Golden Bones (The Golden Court, #1)(2)
His dark eyes twinkled, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. “Walk with me?”
My lips parted, and I followed him down the alley and onto the wider back road. Cheers and whistles bounced off the stone as we walked across the worn cobbles. My heartbeat thrummed in my ears. He was really here.
I cleared my throat. “How did you know it was me?”
Grae’s cloak flapped behind him as he peeked at me. Every time those red-brown eyes landed on me, it felt like the ground gave way.
“Your hair.”
“My hair?” I snorted, grabbing a brown ringlet and pulling it straight. “I don’t have curly hair in my other form.”
Immediately my eyes darted to the curtained windows and closed doors. No one was around to hear me, but I still said other instead of Wolf. Sawyn would pay handsomely for the last Gold Wolves’ location, and no matter how pretty the man next to me was, I was always on guard. We had kept our secret these many years through dogged vigilance, not even whispering the word “Wolf,” and that wasn’t about to change.
“Not the texture of your hair.” Grae chuckled, the sound making my toes curl against the rough stones. “The scent of your hair.”
“My scent?” Most humans smelled the same to me, like rising bread and tilled earth, but each Wolf had their own scent, like a fingerprint special only to them.
And he remembered mine.
Grae took a deep, slow breath, making me blush. His nostrils flared as he seemingly tasted the air and let it out again. “Like lilies in summer sunshine and a hint of spice . . . cinnamon perhaps?” He murmured each word as if savoring it.
Pinpricks covered my lips up to my ears, and I knew the creeping blush had probably turned my cheeks bright red.
Yes, he knew me—and I knew Grae’s scent, too. He’d always smelled like . . . damp earth and woodsmoke—a bonfire after a rainstorm. Powerful and elemental, disparate yet whole. The echoes of his essence flooded back to me, along with all those childhood memories. I still heard our laughter, that giddy glee of chasing each other through the nighttime forest. And when we were tired from our runs, we’d sit by the river and he’d tell me stories from every corner of the realm.
Closing my eyes, I breathed deep through my nose. As a Wolf, I could smell the pies cooling in open windows, the fresh hay being carted off to the town stables, and the wildflowers in the meadow beyond. I imagined the wind in my hair was blowing through my golden red fur instead as I realized that with Grae here, it possibly meant the end to our hiding, and my Wolf could finally be free. That thought made me giddy, and I hoped the forests in the capital would be larger. In Allesdale, I had to run in circles to run at all. The eastern wood surrounding our little cottage took only ten minutes to cross on all four paws. I’d learned every fallen log and muddy creek by heart and was beginning to feel like the dogs kept tied up outside the butchers.
After today, though, I’d no longer feel trapped.
Grae tipped his chin toward my bare feet, and his cheeks dimpled. “Your feet must be as tough as your paws.” His laugh had changed since we were young. Now it was a rolling thunder that emerged from his chest only to be felt deep in my own.
I checked over my shoulder again to see if anyone had heard him, but the streets were empty. Soon the carriages would roll out the other end of town, and people would return to work, but for now they were entranced by the spectacle.
“You should be more careful,” I muttered, instantly regretting that I had just rebuked the crown prince. I mean, I was royalty, too . . . but if Briar were here, she’d scold me for my lack of decorum. Grae was not the playful pup chasing bunnies in the eastern wood anymore.
“When we get to Highwick, you’ll never again have to whisper about what you are,” he promised. The sincerity in his voice made me press my lips together. “You can be proud to be a Wolf.” He lifted his chin up to the Moon Goddess. “You can be exactly as you are, little fox.”
I huffed. Exactly as I am? That wasn’t saying much. Briar was “the Crimson Princess,” with her ruby red hair and long, lithe frame. The Moon Goddess designed her perfectly for royal life. Me . . . I was Briar’s opposite in every way, the other side of the same coin. No one would ever guess that we were twins. Only a handful of people even knew who I was—Grae and his father being two of them. I was a whole head shorter than Briar and twice her size, with rounded curves that belied the muscles I’d spent years of combat training honing. Even in my Gold Wolf form, I was lacking compared to my twin—small and scruffy next to her, with a hue of rust to my golden fur. It was why Grae called me little fox . . . and it was also why his promises that I could be myself felt nothing but deflating.
The words spilled from my mouth before I could stop them. “Who I am is no one.”
Grae’s footsteps faltered at my muttered confession. He sidestepped me so quickly I almost walked straight into him . . . again. Blocking my path, he spun to face me. His stare felt like a weight pressing down on me. His calloused pointer finger touched the tip of my chin, lifting until my eyes met his dark ones. Holding his gaze felt thrilling and familiar all at once.
“You will have a home in Highwick, too, little fox.” His breath brushed my cheek. “You will stand on the dais as the royalty you are once your sister and I are married. There will never be any mistaking that you are truly someone.”