Marked (The Coldest Fae Book 3) by Katerina Martinez (novel24 .txt) 📗

The space inside the tent was warm, and homey. The floors were a patchwork of thick, furry hides sewn together. There were chairs, tables, and other bits of furniture, all that looked like they’d been made by hand from those same black trees from the forest. Some of the tent’s sections had been partitioned off with heavy, woolen curtains, and in the center of the main tent, a decently sized fire pit provided plenty of heat and light.

Mira was carefully placed on a large bean bag made from various leathers. On it, embroidered with a kind of precision and quality I had not thought possible considering the bean bag was made of thick hide, was a beautiful scene picturing a darkened wolf howling at a gorgeous, full moon.

Toross took his position next to Scary Spice. With a wave of a hand, she bid the other fae to leave us, presumably so she could speak to us in private. There were other fae in the adjoining sections of the tent, I was sure. I could hear them, smell them. But she wasn’t concerned about them.

After a moment, the woman spoke. “My name is Ashera,” she said, “First Alpha, Guardian of the Valley, Protector of the moon children.”

I wasn’t sure whether to bow or not, so I bowed. It seemed like the safer option. Mel bowed too, and Mira lowered her head from where she sat. “My name is Dahlia,” I said, “This is Melina, and Mira. If we offended your people, I’m—”

“—you did not offend us,” she said, “In fact, we helped you. You should show gratitude.”

“I am. We are. I don’t think we would’ve survived the encounter with those Vrren if not for Toross and his… pack?”

“Pack is correct. We had been following you for some time. Very few travelers go so deep into the woods, and even fewer stay the course toward the storm. What is your purpose in going there?”

“That’s… really complicated.”

“Not more complicated than what the mark on your hand represents, if it is true.”

“Why do people keep doubting if it’s real or not?” I asked, “I don’t know what it is, I just got it a few days ago.”

“Because the mark you bear speaks of a prophecy, but you would not be the first false prophet to have surfaced within these lands.”

“False…? No, I’m not a false prophet. We were actually looking for your people anyway because you might be the only ones who can tell me what this mark really means. Can you tell me, or not?”

“We can tell you,” she said, “But first, we will test you.”

“Test?”

“The last false prophet who claimed to be the white wolf failed miserably. As did the one before, and the one before. If you fail, you will die. If you survive… we will see.”

I was about to argue with her, to protest at, well, the whole idea of being tested. Ever since I’d gotten to Arcadia, life had been a series of tests and challenges. I didn’t want another test. I wanted to figure out what this mark on my arm really meant, if it could help me learn more about who I was, and more importantly, I wanted to find the Prince.

He was out there, somewhere. I knew it. I could almost smell him, always, but he was constantly out of reach.

Instead of protesting, I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Alright, fine. What is this test?”

“Simple. You must catch Jaleem.”

“Who is Jaleem?”

I felt the sharp, hot bite of pain around my right ankle and immediately fell to the ground. I hadn’t even hit the floor, and the wolf that had bit me was already bolting out of the tent. It was the same wolf that had bitten my arm, the asshole.

Blood poured from the wound, hot and sticky. I wrapped my hands around it to stem the flow and grit my teeth. “Why did he do that?!” I shrieked.

“Would you not want to cripple your opponent to make sure they cannot catch you?” Ashera said. “You have one hour to find him and bring him low.”

“I can’t even stand!”

“If you cannot stand, then you are no white wolf.”

Adrenaline coursed through me. I could feel my heart hammering against the sides of my neck, against my temples. Melina knelt beside me and touched my shoulder. “Just think it,” she said, “Tell your body to heal. Concentrate.”

I stared at her, wide eyed, my hands getting warmer and bloodier by the second. I wanted to scream, maybe to cry. I did neither of those things. Instead, gritting my teeth, I shut my eyes and concentrated on the pain in my leg, on the blood in my hands. I visualized the skin knitting, the blood stopping, and in moments, impossibly… it did.

When I opened my eyes again, the skin around my ankle was starting to heal, to close, to seal.

“See?” Mel whispered, “Now, go and get him.”

I still couldn’t believe my own eyes. I tried to stand, to put weight on my leg, expecting my ankle to give, but it didn’t. After glancing at Ashera, then at Mira—who gave me an encouraging nod—I turned to face the opening in the tent, and started running after the bastard that had bitten me.

CHAPTER SIX

Most of the fae that had been outside of the tent a moment ago had now been replaced by wolves. They crowded the opening, watching me as I spilled outside and into the night, making it almost impossible to know if Jaleem was one of them.

Shit.

I scanned the crowd, taking a few careful steps into it and trying to keep my eyes sharp. The gathered wolves were all staring at me, all standing, poised, and ready to attack at a moment’s notice. It was intimidating, but I suspected that was the whole point. They didn’t want me to succeed, here.

I decided to try something weird; to dip my toes into these new abilities.

Turning my chin up slightly, I sniffed the air, opening my