WATCHERS
I wake up the next morning with a smile on my face, music and happiness still echoing within me.
There’s an eerie glow in the room, like a deep blue dream that keeps reverberating even after it ends. I blink sleepily, trying to determine the source of the strange light, and then suddenly bolt upright.
Watchers.
They’re everywhere. Scores of them, perched motionless on the rafters supporting the North Tower’s stone ceiling, their wings wrapped around themselves, hiding their eyes. Like they’re in mourning.
I stare at them, transfixed, as foreboding swells deep inside me.
The line of Watchers blurs, then disappears, and the room abruptly darkens.
Ariel is still sleeping, but Wynter is sitting up in bed, her eyes wide and set on the rafters.
“What does this mean?” I rasp out to her.
Her glacial calm is unnerving. “I don’t know.”
A flash of white wings appears in the window.
Both Wynter and I spring from our beds and rush to the window. Together, we look out into the cool, gray dawn.
Fear leaps in my chest.
Watchers dot the tops of the trees for as far as the eye can see. They’re immobile as statues, their wings wrapped tight, their eyes hidden, as if the dawning reality of this day is too much for them to bear.
A morbid chill slashes through me that I can feel deep in my bones.
Something is coming.
The sea of Watchers disappears. Like a flash of dire warning.
I whip my head toward Wynter. “I need to find my brothers. And Diana. Everyone.”
Wynter gives an almost imperceptible nod, her eyes moon-wide.
I race to throw on my clothes as fast as I can. Then I grab the White Wand from under my pillow, shove it into the side of my boot and rush through the hall and down the spiraling stairs.
Thunder rumbles to the west as I burst out of the North Tower. I race across the field toward the University, desperately scanning the trees of the surrounding wilds, searching for more Watchers as dark storm clouds boil and gather overhead.
I enter the usual morning bustle of the University streets at a sprint, dashing past clusters of scholars and professors. My eyes dart around wildly as I pass by Spine-stone buildings and run under walkways, searching for danger. For some clue as to what’s happened.
Everyone’s likely to be there in the dining hall, I console myself. Having breakfast. Or working in the kitchens.
I try to ignore the cramp in my side as I begin the trek up the long, sloping path to the kitchen that abuts the edge of the wilds, the livestock barns coming into view ahead. I’ve almost reached the back entrance to the kitchen when I spot a lone figure emerging from the woods. He’s wearing a heavy cloak, the cloak’s hood hanging low.
He lifts his head, and I meet his wild amber gaze.
I instantly recognize him. Diana’s childhood friend, Brendan. The red-haired, jovial member of her father’s guard who I met on Founder’s Day.
Brendan’s out of breath and dragging his feet, which is strange for a Lupine. And he’s holding a child in his arms. I realize he must have run very long and very hard to be so out of breath, and he has a haunted look in his eyes that sets a wave of black dread washing over me.
His expression speaks of disaster.
As he nears, I realize, in a flash of confusion, that he’s carrying Andras’s son in his arms—little Konnor.
Konnor’s pointed ears stick up from his mussed purple-and-blue hair. His face is muddy and tear-streaked, his crimson eyes thrown open too wide, as if in shock.
“What’s happened?” I ask, my voice tight with fear as Brendan stumbles to a halt before me. For a moment, he looks as if he’s about to be sick.
“The Southern pack...they’ve been...murdered...”
His words are a staggering punch to my gut. “No!”
“Everyone. Men...women...children. They’re all dead.” He struggles for breath and seems precariously close to falling over. I grab hold of both his arms to steady him.
Brendan lifts his head, his face a mask of grief. “Jarod and Diana’s parents... Kendra...my beautiful Iliana.” He chokes back a sob. “All of them.”
“No,” I breathe, horror seizing me.
Brendan looks around blindly, eyes glassy and unfocused. “The Mage Council... They demanded that we cede our territory to Gardneria.” He chokes on the words. “We defied them, and they threatened to wipe us out. We...we didn’t pay any heed to this. They’ve threatened us so many times before.”
His chest heaves as if he’s about to retch, and I keep a tight grip on his arms. “I went out to hunt...and when I returned, I... I found them...all of them...dead...our homes turned to blackened ash.”
My eyes fill with tears as my gaze drops to Andras’s son. “How did Konnor survive?”
“His parents... I found him...under...under their bodies.” Brendan breaks down sobbing, his eyes screwed up tight as little Konnor hides his head in Brendan’s chest.
“Did the Gardnerians attack the Northern Lupines, too?” I ask, frantic.
Brendan shakes his head. “I don’t know. But if they did, then... Jarod, Diana, Konnor and me...we might be the only Lupines left. They killed everyone, even the babies.” He looks around wildly. “I have to find Jarod and Diana. And Andras.” His eyes are imploring. “Where are they?”
My mind is a storm. I struggle to think as panic cyclones through me. “Andras is probably with the horses.”
“Take him,” he implores, holding Konnor out to me. The child stiffens, as if bracing for a blow, his eyes unblinkingly wide, filled with unimaginable horrors. “Take him to Andras,” Brendan says, desperation in his eyes.
“Oh, sweet one,” I whisper to Konnor, my heart tearing in two. He presses his little head against my chest as I hug him protectively close. Fiercely close.
I motion to the back kitchen entrance, my voice choked. “Diana and Jarod...they might be in the dining hall. Through the kitchens. In there.”
Brendan makes for the door, and I hurry in behind him, clutching Konnor. Everyone looks up from their labors as we burst inside, their eyes flying wide to see Brendan rushing through, trailed by me, hugging a Lupine child in my arms. Yvan’s eyes home in tight on me as he pulls a wooden bread paddle from the oven. Rafe slams the door of a cookstove closed and rises, immediately registering my alarm. Trystan is there with him, as if they’ve just been conversing. My younger brother searches my face, his hand reflexively sliding to grasp his wand.
“Elloren,” Bleddyn says sharply, her hand freezing in the act of stirring a large kettle of porridge. “What happened?” She abandons her task as she, Yvan, my brothers and Fernyllia rush over to me, the rest of the workers instantly on alert.
I pause, a tremble taking hold of me. My eyes flick to Brendan’s back as he disappears through the entrance to the dining hall, the door slamming shut behind him.
Olilly has fallen back from where she and Iris were filling muffin tins, terror in her violet eyes. Iris wraps an arm around Olilly, her gaze riddled with fear and confusion.
“What’s going on, Ren?” Rafe asks, his strong hand coming to my arm. His face pales as he takes in trauma-stricken Konnor. “Why do you have Andras’s son?”
“Jarod and Diana’s pack.” I’m barely able to get the words out. “They’ve been murdered. By the Gardnerians.”
Rafe’s eyes widen. “What?!”
A loud, earsplitting scream erupts from the direction of the dining hall. It quickly morphs into a tortured wail of grief.
Rafe, Trystan, Yvan and I all rush through the door at the same time. Diana’s in the far corner of the hall, trying to pull away from Brendan, his hands on her shoulders. Jarod is standing next to them, his face chalk white.
“No! No!” Diana screams over and over. She wrenches free of Brendan, almost losing her footing as she does so. Rafe, Trystan and Yvan rush toward them, and I follow close behind in a nightmare daze as I clutch Konnor to my chest and dart around what feels like a sea of people, all turned in the direction of the screaming and murmuring in confusion.
I push past a knot of Gardnerian military apprentices who are watching Diana with shocked interest, craning their necks to see.
They don’t know, I realize as I pass them. They don’t know what’s happened.
Ahead of me, Rafe has reached Diana, who’s sobbing uncontrollably. Rafe grabs hold of her and pulls her into a fierce embrace as Yvan and Trystan fall in with Jarod and Brendan. Diana pushes away from Rafe and begins to Change, thick hair sprouting all over her skin, her body lengthening in some places, contracting in others, her clothes tearing.
I reach them all as Diana rapidly finishes the Change, her forepaws falling to the floor with a dull thud. I skid to a halt next to Yvan, shocked to witness Diana’s transformation. She’s the largest wolf I’ve ever seen, golden-haired and magnificent with wild amber eyes.
Diana gives Rafe a devastated look and bolts into a run. She clears the room, fast as lightning, scholars shrieking with fear in her wake.
“I’ll go after her.” Brendan peers toward where Diana ran out, a dazed expression on his face.
“I’ll go, too,” Rafe offers in turn, his face stricken.
“No,” Brendan tells him, his eyes darting down the length of Rafe’s figure in grim appraisal. “You’ll never catch up with her in that form. And you can’t scent her like I can. I’ll bring her back.”
“There’s a tower,” Rafe tells Brendan with heightened urgency. “On the north end of the grounds...just past the University stables and a broad field. Bring her there.”
Brendan nods and runs out, so fast his form is a blur.
Grief whipping through me, my eyes meet Yvan’s, his fire giving a hard flare toward me.
“I’ll help find her,” he tells me, his voice low. I nod, and he glances at Jarod and my brothers for a moment before breaking into a run across the hall that I know is only a fraction of the speed he’s capable of.
Jarod is doubled over and looks like he’s having trouble breathing. His eyes are wide and uncomprehending, as if he’s suddenly trapped in a nightmare with no escape. “My parents...” he chokes out, “my sister...my entire pack.” His knees buckle.
Rafe and Trystan catch him before he hits the ground, holding on to him from either side.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Jarod says, his voice constricted.
Rafe glares across the room at the large cluster of Gardnerian military apprentices with barely contained fury. “Come on,” he says to Jarod. “We’re going to get you out of here.”
Jarod regains some of his footing, his face taking on a dazed expression as we lead him through the dining hall, all of us the center of attention while bewildered and mortified conversation buzzes all around.
As we pass by the table of military apprentices, one of them smirks and calls out, “Hey, Rafe!” Then he lets loose with a boisterous wolf howl, the other apprentices breaking into laughter.
Abruptly, Rafe releases Jarod and lunges at the young man, pulls him out of his seat and punches him in the face so hard that a sickening crack reverberates throughout the room. Then Rafe hurls the apprentice onto the dining table, blood gushing from the young man’s nose as plates, cups and silverware fly everywhere. The other apprentices jump back to avoid the spray of food and drink and the body being hurled about.
The young man’s companions move to pull wands, but Trystan is faster, his wand already pointed at the group.
“Get back,” Trystan warns, the Level Five Mage stripes edging his military uniform a silent threat. The other apprentices waver and eye him with extreme trepidation, their hands on unsheathed wands and swords.
Rafe looms over the bleeding young man, fists clenched, cold fury in his eyes. “If I ever hear you mocking her like that again,” he snarls, “I will kill you.” Rafe turns back to Jarod and takes his arm once more.
We stride out of the dining hall, Trystan half-turned with his wand pointed behind us, the crowd growing quiet as they watch us go.
As soon as we’re outside, Rafe turns to me. “Get Andras. Tell him to get five horses saddled and ready for a long journey. Get him quickly!”