Fire Prince by H. Danielle Crabtree

Author:H. Danielle Crabtree [Crabtree, H. Danielle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: H. Danielle Crabtree

11

Garrett’s breath came out as smoke as they slipped down the narrow streets toward the edge of town.

Lyulf’s memory of the camp location guided him. He held out an arm, stopping Myah from entering the larger and wider muddy dirt road that wended north to the Osten capital, Turris, and south to the bridge and the Morgensol capital, Rhine. Sticking his head around the edge of a building, he searched for anyone milling around, but only heard laughter and music from the inn.

He pulled away from the building, turning toward Myah. Small gasps of steam puffed from her lips through chattering teeth. She rubbed her hands down her arms, and then cupped them over her mouth, allowing her breath to warm her fingers.

“Here,” Garrett whispered, pushing the bag of supplies toward her. Her fingers curled around the top of the sack. “Stay here—in the shadows.”

Her gloved hand brushed the leather gauntlet of his left arm, stilling him. She worked her bottom lip with her teeth and opened her mouth as if to speak, but her lips clamped shut. When she opened her lips again, she whispered, “Be careful,” and squeezed his wrist.

Her expression, her tone melted a little of the armor around his heart, and he couldn’t find his voice to respond, so he nodded instead.

He flipped up the hood of his cloak, and willed the emotional armor to solidify like steel around him once more. An excuse for his absence formed in his mind—in case someone from the Elite Guard spotted him. Moving like a ghost in the shadows, Garrett fisted a knife and slid along the buildings’ exteriors toward the camp, each step light to avoid giving away his presence.

Oren had taught Garrett silence on their many training sessions and hunting trips through the years. He had lost many deer in the early years because he had snapped a branch or rustled the leaves or approached them with the wind at his back. He had spent those nights hungry, not because Oren was cruel, but because that was the way of life.

If you did not hunt, you did not eat.

If you gave away your position, you could die.

If you made a mistake in battle, it could cost you your life.

If you failed to protect the ones you loved, you would live with that sorrow your entire life.

Garrett’s vision slipped into Lyulf’s. The wolf hid near the camp, watching the horses. The equines, saddle-less and secured to low-hanging tree branches, stomped and yanked on the ropes, their heads up and ears swiveling as they released panicked snorts.

“Stop scaring the horses,” Garrett sent to Lyulf.

The fire wolf grumbled but left his hideaway. His giant paws crept along the edge of the river, pressing into half-frozen mud, before he crawled into the brush again, farther from the horses.

Garrett pulled his vision back from Lyulf’s and hurried from the road to the river’s embankment. Campfires dotted the woods ahead. Following the boundary of the waterway toward the light, he heard the horses snorting and shuffling long before he saw them in the pitch black.

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