Daughter of the Moon (The Moon People, Book Two) (33 page)

—22—

A Daughter's Vengeance

There was no time left to linger. She had to gather her clan and leave before Miral made up his mind. He knew where to look, but it would still take time for his scouts to find the valley Octavia had described. Time enough, perhaps, to gather their supplies and flee.

Adel swallowed the desperate anger welling up inside her, trying not to think about anything beyond the necessities of the moment. To do so would not be of any help her followers right now. But the thoughts still clutched at her like wicked phantoms, threatening to steal away her strength of will. Had it all been for nothing? Was she destined to keep on running, throwing herself on the mercy of whichever alpha's territory she strayed closest to? Perhaps she had been a fool to think she could win the respect of her kin without the strength of warriors. It was simply not the way of the world. If Miral attacked, conjured flames would not be enough to frighten his clan into submission a second time.

The den mother tried to keep her step slow and steady as she departed from the meeting area, not wishing to betray the urgency that snapped at her heels like a tide of slavering hounds. Her people had been making preparations to leave quietly. They would be ready to depart within moments if she gave the command. The single tent would remain atop the hillock after they were gone, and with a little luck it would be some time before anyone ventured close enough to realise it was empty. That only left the newcomers who had agreed to join them.

Adel cursed under her breath, realising that gathering them all in secret would be a nigh-impossible task. The absence of the rowdy group of young men would be noticed immediately, and it would take time to gather the handful of young women she had agreed to accept under her tutelage when she made the offer to the other alphas. Perhaps it would be better to simply leave them. What kind of danger would she be leading them into, anyway? They would be safer with their own packs.

She was so caught up in her concerns that she did not notice the hurried footsteps following her until her father caught her by the arm, jerking her to a halt between two long storage tents that had been emptied of their food supplies many days ago.

"Daughter," he growled, the hard silver of his beard bristling as they came eye to eye for the first time in more than ten years. She noticed she no longer had to tilt her head upward to meet his gaze.

"Do not call me that," she shot back, yanking herself free of his grip as if it had physically burned her. "Leave me be, there is nothing you can say that I wish to hear."

"I do not need a seer's sight to know that you are tempting fate," he said, holding his ground with a stubbornness that matched his daughter's. "As much as you continue to disrespect me, you are still my daughter. I have no wish to see you dead at Miral's hand, and I know you would sooner die than become his thrall."

"Then fight him yourself, do as you wish, it does not concern me!"

"Adel," he growled, his thick eyebrows lowering in a look she remembered all too vividly from her past. How it had cowed her back then, leaving her angry and resentful and bitterly helpless. It had made her weak. "Khelt no longer binds you to his clan," he continued. "You have no reason to remain apart from your people. With you and your followers we could be strong again. Your mother will not lead the seerhood forever, and they will need a strong new leader to guide them—"

A bark of hysterical laughter left Adel's throat, all of her anger and despair setting a cold, wicked fire in her eyes. "You think I would ever come back to you?! You threw me away, cast me aside like I was a gift to bargain with!" A fury like nothing she had ever known took hold of the den mother, twisting through her veins like ice as she lunged at her father, digging her fingernails into his neck as she slammed him up against one of the heavy wooden stakes supporting the tent. An audible splintering of wood followed the weight of the impact, and Ulric's eyes bulged in shock and indignation. He brought a heavy hand down to strike his daughter, but she caught him by the wrist before his weathered palm could reach her cheek. His stubbornness was not the only thing she had inherited, and while her father's powerful body was beginning to wither with age, she was still young and strong. Far stronger than she had been the last time he struck her.

"Where is the alpha's strength now?" she hissed, clawing at his neck until she drew blood. "Where is Karel to beat me in your stead?" It was only then that Adel realised there were tears in her eyes. "How could you think," she all but sobbed, "that I would ever,
ever
, come back to you?!"

"I did all I had to for your good, and for the good of my pack!" her father choked out, his handsome features made ugly by rage. "And you spat in my face at every turn!"

"You took everything from me! My pack, my sister," her voice trailed off until it was barely audible. "You took
him
."

"You cannot blame me for your sister," he retorted, knuckles curled around her wrist as he tried to pry her away from his throat.

"Would she have lived if not for you?!"

Ulric said nothing, gasping for breath as he struggled within his daughter's grasp.

"I hate you," Adel hissed. "For the mercy of every dark spirit whose name I know, I would see you dead. I have seen the demons of the world beyond ours, and you belong there in the darkness with them! Every good thing I have ever felt, none of it is pure— all because of
you
!" She stared at him, letting the pain and rage take her, tightening her fingers around his neck, dragging him into the dark void that had lingered in her heart for ten long years. He had torn something precious from her, leaving a frayed hole in its place that stifled the love she longed to feel for those closest to her. For Netya.

She could have killed him. She did not care for anything beyond her hatred in that blind moment of anger. The dam holding back a tide within her had broken loose, and the flood that followed was drowning out everything but her desire for revenge. She wanted to hurt him. She wanted to kill him.

But one small thought held her back. Netya. The girl that had awoken something within that terrible hole in her heart. A tiny glimmer. What kind of a woman did Adel want her apprentice to learn from? Not a murderer. Let death be the craft of alphas and warriors, but not the women of Adel's clan.

She threw her father to the ground with a choked noise of anger. He lay there in the dirt, gasping for breath as he clutched his bleeding neck, old and humiliated. Cast down by a woman. If any of the other alphas had witnessed his disgrace, he would never again have sat within the circle as their equal.

Adel raised a trembling finger at him, her father's dark blood dripping from her nails. She was shaking, her muscles numb.

"I am a greater leader than you. My clan will stand above all others, and we shall do so without the kind of power I spared you from today. When the dark spirits come for you, you will die knowing your daughter is a queen among alphas. I swear it."

Ulric's reddened face looked up at her from the ground, his wheezing breaths cutting off any response he might have uttered. He had not changed. He was still every bit the man Adel hated, and she knew she would carry that hate with her until her dying day. But in his expression she also glimpsed fear. The kind of fear he had once made her feel. A bitter smile clutched at Adel's lips. No one could inflict anything worse upon her than what this man had already managed. Not Miral, not anyone.

She pressed the sleeve of her gown to her face, wiping away the tears that threatened to make a mess of the charcoal painting her eyes. Turning her back on her father, she left him there in the space between the tents. Her step was steady and unhurried despite the trembling of her body. She did not know whether anyone else had witnessed what took place, nor did she care.

Fern and Netya were sitting at the foot of the hillock when she returned, their bundles of belongings tucked alongside them ready for travel. A look passed between the girls as she approached. They could tell something was amiss with their den mother.

"Has something happened?" Netya asked.

"Octavia has told Miral of our den. She will depart soon, and the rest of the gathering will follow." There was no trace of fear or anger in Adel's voice.

Fern's eyes widened. She hopped to her feet, clutching her bundle to her side. "Shall I tell the others? There cannot be much time— Oh! But what about the rest?" She glanced in desperation toward the group of young men lounging several camps over.

Netya hesitated, chewing her lower lip. "The other packs will notice if we rush to gather them."

Adel nodded. Her apprentice had come to the same shrewd conclusion as her.

"Then we must go by ourselves," Fern began, but Adel raised a hand to silence her.

"No. We will not lose what little strength we have managed to gather out of fear." The den mother fixed her followers with a hard gaze. "Find those who have agreed to join us. Every last one of them. Do so quickly and quietly, and have them slip away through the forest. Tell them to meet us where the river divides to the north. Once everyone has arrived, we run hard for the mountains."

Fern nodded instantly, taking the shape of her wolf as she dashed away in the direction of the men's camp. Netya lingered a moment longer, looking anxiously at her mentor.

"If Miral knows where our den is, what will we do if he comes?"

Adel took her apprentice by the shoulders, leaning down to look her in the eyes.

"We drive him back."

—23—

Homeward

Upon silent paws they picked their way back through the misty brambles at the base of the hill, braving the more treacherous route rather than drawing attention to their departure by using the cleared path. Netya hoped the stragglers following them would be wise enough to do the same.

Her wolf was keen and alert that afternoon, focused on the journey ahead of them, but anxious without Caspian at her side. He would catch up to them soon at the agreed upon meeting place, and then they would make for the mountain pass they had taken with Miral. It would mean leaving an obvious trail for far longer than they would have liked, but there was no other way back that did not involve many weeks, perhaps even months, of travel skirting all the way around the mountains again.

Adel led the way through the dim forest, leaving the musty scents of the sacred gathering place behind them as they traced the passage of the river. Netya did not realise how accustomed she had become to the ethereal atmosphere of the place during her time there, and now that they were leaving she felt a pang of sadness. Despite the tensions they had faced, the gathering had still left her with many new and fond memories. It had broadened her understanding of the different peoples of the world and how they lived together. Everything seemed larger now that she had seen how many of her kin could come together in one place, and it made her mind reel to think that this was still but a fraction of their full number.

As they arrived at the place where the river forked into two smaller inlets she reverted from the shape of her wolf. Her hand immediately rose to touch the empty space upon her breast, feeling the absence of her pendant yet again. She curled her fingers into a fist and squeezed them tight, shooting one last glance back the way they had come. She could not lie, some part of her had clung on to the hope that she might get the treasured necklace back before they left. Perhaps Caspian or someone else would challenge Miral, defeat him, and demand the return of what he had taken.

A foolish fantasy. She would be beside herself with worry if Caspian did such a thing. And she would have been the first one to stop him.

With a bitter ache in her heart, she realised that her token of Caspian's love had probably been cast aside and trampled into the mud by now, or charred to ashes in Miral's fire. It held no value to the rival alpha or anyone else. Only to her. Releasing the painful breath she had been holding, she tried not to think about the faintly cold sensation that now lingered around her neck in its place.

A handful of people at a time, the pack's new followers slowly trickled out of the trees to join them. They numbered eleven in total. All ten that Adel had expected, and one more. Six young men, four girls close to Netya's age who were to be trained as seers, and a single boy. The youngster had received no invitation from the den mother, and she rose to her feet with a glare as he hurried up the riverbank in the wake of two of the men.

Before Adel could accost the boy, however, Wren swept forward with a squeak of joy to greet him. Clearly the two of them had become friends over the course of the gathering, but before they could enjoy their reunion the den mother pulled them apart.

"There is no room in my pack for more children," Adel said. "Go back to your own clan, boy."

He puffed out his chest, showing more courage than most grown men were able to muster when they addressed Adel. "My name is Pera, and I have no clan."

"No child survives without a pack. Now leave, I will not say it again."

Still the boy held his ground. "My mother sent me away to alpha Ulric years ago, and he does not care what becomes of me! His pack have never been my family."

"Please let him come, Den Mother," Wren said. "He knows all the tales of you, and he can hunt with the others!"