Home > Popular Books > A River of Golden Bones (The Golden Court, #1)(76)

A River of Golden Bones (The Golden Court, #1)(76)

Author:A.K. Mulford

What a fool.

I kneed him hard between the legs, and he barked out a cry of pain. Before he could double over, the Wolf’s face whipped to the side at the sound of a loud, meaty thud.

“Don’t. Touch. Her.” Grae’s voice was pure thunder and menace.

I scrambled away from the Wolf’s grip as Grae yanked him back by the hair. “Leave him, Grae. Let’s go!”

Grae’s storming eyes pierced into Aiden’s—a look of rage and betrayal. “Were you the one who told them to look here?”

His words dripped with venom, but Aiden didn’t flinch, only smiled.

“I figured you couldn’t resist bringing your new pet to the hot pools,” he snarled, his voice tinged with bitterness. I wasn’t sure if he was jealous of my attention or if they’d ever been something more, but that betrayal in his eyes was as clear as the twinkling stars overhead.

The muscles in Grae’s jaw flickered as he released Aiden’s hair from his grip. “Aid—”

A flicker of motion caught my eye.

“Look out!” I screamed.

It happened so fast. Aiden’s hand unsheathed his dagger in the blink of an eye, driving it upward toward Grae’s chest. Grae twisted out of the blow, blocking his friend by the forearm. The block made Aiden’s knees slip out from under him and he fell . . . straight onto his own blade.

Air whooshed out of me as I stared at that dagger impaled in the Wolf’s gut. Aiden’s eyes bugged in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing in soundless gasps.

“Go!” Grae shouted, snapping me from my stupor.

We careened down the empty street. A howl keened through the night air, and I knew the other Wolves had reached their friend. A Wolf would survive that wound, I told myself. We didn’t sign our death warrant.

Breathe.

I spotted a high iron fence surrounding a steepled stone building—the backside of the town square. Grae seemed to follow my train of thought and as I leapt to grab the top of the gate; his hands found my foot and lifted me. I vaulted the rest of the way up, swinging my legs over the pointed tips. I landed in a crouch, starting to run again before I even straightened. Grae landed behind me.

“Split up! I’ll meet you back at the inn!” I shouted loud enough for the Wolves still on our tails to hear. Grae veered to the right, jumping over another fence, this one waist high, as I barreled straight ahead and down the crevice between two temple walls. I turned sideways, my chest and back brushing against each wall. The walls crushed tighter and I sucked in a breath, praying the passage didn’t narrow further. I was nearly to the other end when the four remaining Wolves appeared. The one with the mean scar, Soris, tried to squeeze through but got as far as one shoulder and had to stop.

“Shit,” he growled, turning back to the others. “We’ve got to double back. We’ll go around.”

He gave me one last scowling glare and I couldn’t help but wink at him, thrilled by the rage that spread over his face. Pushing out the far side, I stumbled back into the main square with the frozen willow tree. I made it three steps down the footpath before I heard a low whistle. I looked up, seeing Grae leaning out of a second-story window. How did he get up there so fast?

He beckoned me with his hand and I looked across the vacant square, checking one last time. The Wolves would have to trek back through that slush-filled alley to get here and by then we would be long gone . . . or so they would think.

I ran two quick circles around the square and down toward another tight alleyway, then carefully doubled back over my footprints in the snow. On silent feet, I jumped up onto the stoop of the temple, leaping over the side and onto the threshold. I smiled down at the powdery, untouched steps—not a single footstep led inside.

Opening the heavy wooden door just a crack, I pushed through the gap and closed it slowly. The stone room was worn with age—columns smoothed by thousands of hands over centuries. Half the wooden pews tilted at odd angles, broken and splintering.

I tiptoed down the aisle to the altar, covered in hundreds of white candles, the wax dripping like frozen rivers off the sides. The only light came from a lone flickering candle in the center of the altar. I hadn’t checked which God’s symbol covered the threshold in my haste to enter, but now I looked up to the painted ceilings and my cheeks stained red.

Nude paintings, some depicting solitary figures, others the act of lovemaking, covered the frescoed ceilings. The figures wore garlands of flowers around their heads with soft white clouds and songbirds dancing in the pale blue sky—poetic, whimsical, yet primal. I swallowed.

 76/144   Home Previous 74 75 76 77 78 79 Next End