The Alpha's Concubine (Historical Shifter Romance) (48 page)

"I ask nothing of you." Vaya fixed her with the most sincere look she could muster. "If it means saving the den mother, I will do everything I can to lend you my aid."

* * *

Netya remained a few paces behind Vaya, as the huntress had instructed, heart still pounding after the confrontation in Caspian's lodge. She did not know if what she was doing was wise, or reasonable, or desperate. All she knew was that Adel was dying, and that she could not afford to waste a moment convincing the others of her innocence. Even with a wolf to speed her home, it might still be too late for the den mother by the time she returned.

How strange it was that Vaya, of all people, had been the one to come to her aid. Perhaps, for all her flaws, there was goodness in the woman's heart after all. But Netya had little time to dwell on such things. She could hear the voices of the others as they searched for her, and it was only a matter of time before one of their wolves picked up her scent. On her own, she stood no chance of crossing the plains without being caught, but with Vaya's help, it might just be possible.

They crept down the side of the outcrop using a narrow and precarious path between the rocks that Netya had never seen before, sticking to the shadows as they made their way around the far side of the natural monument. When they reached the ground, Vaya made her wait, and the pair of them sat shivering in the bushes for several long moments until they were sure the coast was clear.

"Hold tight, and do not fall," Vaya muttered. "We will be at the edge of the Sun People's territory by dawn."

Netya nodded her understanding as the huntress took the shape of her wolf. She barely had time to climb on and tuck in her legs before Vaya broke into a run, streaking through the undergrowth with barely a sound as they disappeared into the darkness.

There was no moon that night, and without the eyes of a wolf Netya was forced to put her faith in Vaya's sense of direction. The dim glow of the fires atop the outcrop disappeared before long, and the bushes thinned out as they left the cover of the scrubland behind and set out across the open plains.

Netya's shoulders were sore and aching from the marks left by Vaya's claws, but she ignored the pain and held on tight. The shaft of her spear bounced against her spine where it hung from the leather strap looped across her chest. Cold air whipped at her eyes. Vaya was fast, faster than any wolf she had ridden before, but the urgency of her speed left little room for the comfort of her rider.

Netya did not care. She endured until her body throbbed and her muscles were stiff, searching the horizon hour after hour for the dark patch of trees that marked the edge of the forest. It was not until the focus of her adrenaline ebbed and exhaustion began to take hold that she realised she was returning home. Back to a place she had not seen in over a year. This was not the manner in which she had hoped to return, but it was happening now regardless. What would she do? How would she explain her situation?

She tried to calm herself and think. For Adel's sake, she had to be wise, as her mentor had taught her. She could not tell the truth. No one from her village would ever lend their aid to one of the Moon People willingly. But even if she could sneak her way in without anyone noticing, she did not know where the medicine she required would be kept, or even how to identify it. For all the plants she had spent the past months studying, she was still as clueless as ever about those native to her homeland.

It brought an agonising weight to her chest to think that she might be forced to return home without so much as laying eyes on her mother and sisters. It had been easy to put them out of mind while she was caught up in the excitement of everything that had happened to her since leaving, but now that she was on her way home, the memories of her previous life began flooding back all at once.

How could she explain where she had been? Would she have time? For Adel to have any chance at living, Netya would need to be there and gone as quickly as possible. As much as it hurt her, she crushed her feelings of sentiment aside and tried to focus on what mattered. She needed to embody her mentor's stoic courage. This was not a reunion, it was a task. Just as Adel had not hesitated in her conviction to remove Erech's leg to save his life, Netya could not allow the things that tugged at her heart to compromise her goal.

She had never before seen the death of a loved one with her own eyes, but she felt she could almost glimpse it that night, and it terrified her. If only she could be more like Adel.

The stars rolled across the sky as they ran, the land changing shape around them from one mass of black to the next. Hour after hour dragged by, each feeling more desperate than the last. Tense focus kept Netya awake, and by the time the shape of the forest appeared in the distance, she knew what she intended to do.

Vaya slowed her pace, panting with exertion as they slipped beneath the dark canopy of the trees. The familiar musty smell of the forest enveloped them. A short while later, Netya made out the shape of a dry stone wall through the undergrowth.

She was home.

—
36—

The Sun People

The village nestled within a small natural dip in the land, a high bank on the western side separating it from the stretch of forest that eventually gave way to the plains. It was to this western bank that Netya guided Vaya. The narrow river that provided the village's water bordered the southern side, and to the north and east the ground was open, the trees much thinner, providing little cover for anyone who wished to approach unseen.

"Wait for me here," Netya said as she slipped from Vaya's back, putting a hand against the wolf's flank for a moment as she swayed with dizziness. The night was still dark, but dawn had been tugging at the horizon when they left the plains. The hard ride and lack of sleep had taken more of a toll on Netya than she'd thought.

Vaya growled and lay down in the grass, catching her own breath while she had the opportunity. Even with the incredible stamina of her wolf, it seemed miraculous that she had been able to maintain her pace the entire way.

Reminding herself of how little time could afford to be wasted, Netya unslung her spear from its strap, using the shaft for balance as she edged her way carefully down the steep slope. Even under the cover of night, the village that had once been her whole world seemed different and strange to her. There was a new house of logs close to the river that had not been there a year ago, and several tents had been set up nearby. The soft glow of firelight cast shadows between the collection of mismatched dwellings, painting their walls with inviting tones of orange that made Netya's throat tighten with longing.

She avoided the new house, waiting until she was parallel to the centre of the village before moving closer. All was silent save for the low crackle of flames. The smell of woodsmoke was sweet in her nostrils, so much more familiar than the scent of the fires back at the outcrop. Her fingers brushed against the rough logs of the house to her right, tracing a path across the back wall that they had traced many times before. Somewhere, on the other side of that wall, her mother and sisters slept.

Sniffing away the tears that threatened to come to her eyes, she moved her hand away and hurried on past. As much as she longed to go inside, she could not. If only she had more time.

A long earth lodge separated her mother's house from the next wooden building, and it was to this final dwelling at the edge of the village that Netya hurried. With no way to enter save for the doorway on the opposite side, she straightened up and strode at a brisk pace into the central area between the houses. Fires, blankets, and the remnants of the last day's meal were strewn all around, and Netya counted the shapes of three slumbering bodies outside the tents nearby. If she caught anyone's eye, she could only hope her white wolf pelt would not draw too much attention to her.

Taking a deep breath, she turned her back on the open area and faced the doorway, resisting the impulse to duck past the blanket that covered it. She rapped her knuckles quietly against the wall three times, in the same
tap tap-tap
rhythm she had always used to call her friend. She thought she heard a small noise coming from inside, but only silence thereafter.

With the back of her neck prickling, she repeated the knock twice more. After the third try, the sounds of movement returned. When Layon drew back the blanket covering the doorway, the hopeful expression on his face was too much for Netya to bear. He had remembered her knock.

Without a word, she threw herself into his arms, all but sobbing as the drape fell closed behind them.

"I knew you still lived," he gasped, crushing the breath from her lungs as he squeezed her fiercely. It startled Netya to hear him speaking in the language of the Sun People, with a cadence of voice that now sounded strange to her ears. Rearranging her thoughts to adjust back to her own tongue took Netya a moment, and in the meantime Layon let go of her and took a step back, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I barely recognised you," he said. "What happened that night? Where have you been?" Layon's eyes flicked in the direction of another set of drapes to his right, the ones Netya knew cordoned off the sleeping area of his house from the living space. He was speaking in hushed tones, and, while she was thankful for his discretion, he could not have known that she was here in secret.

Glancing through the gap in the drapes, Netya saw a dark-haired woman sleeping on a broad bedroll that was large enough for two. Layon's space was empty beside her, and one of her hands was cupped around her swollen stomach. By the look of her, she had been with child for some months.

"It was difficult for all of us after the night you disappeared," Layon said, an almost apologetic note in his voice. "Derith was very kind to me during that time."

A strange sensation wormed its way through Netya's body. She recognised Derith now, but even without her enlarged stomach, she seemed somehow different. It was not a pang of jealousy Netya felt. Jealousy, perhaps, would have been better. Instead, a heavy sadness settled upon her. How much else had changed in her absence? How much had she missed? Having never spent so long away from home before, she had simply expected everything to be much the same when she returned. But life had continued on without her. Had she waited too long?

"What ever happened to you?" Layon whispered, tugging the drapes closed. "Did you escape the Moon People?"

Struggling to piece her weary, scattered thoughts back together, Netya shook her head. "I am sorry, Layon, but I cannot stay and tell you everything. I must be gone again by morning. Just know that I have been well, and living among good people who have cared for me."

"Gone? Why? What has happened? Oh, Netya, you must tell me!"

"I cannot! Listen, someone I care for is close to death. I risked much to come here, because I know our people have medicine that can help her. Will you get it for me?"

She could not help but feel for poor Layon as he looked at her in bewilderment.

"You cannot stay?" he said after a brief pause.

"I will come back to see you again soon, I promise. I will see all of you again. But please, right now every moment is important. Do you still help Seymon with his herbs?"

"Yes. He is barely able to organise them himself these days."

Netya let out a relieved breath. "I need the medicine that purges the poison of the nightwood berries. I mean —" She shook her head, searching for the name her people used. She realised she must have heard it fewer times than the Moon People's version. "The bitterthorn berries. Do you know the one?"

Layon gave her a hesitant nod. She took his hands and clutched them to her chest, hoping he understood the desperate pounding of her heart for what it was. "Please Layon. It must be fast, and I cannot stay. No one must know I was here until after I am gone. They would only try to stop me from leaving."

"If I find what you need," he said falteringly. "You must at least tell your mother. She believes you are dead."

Netya shook her head. "There will be no time—!"

"You do not know what it has been like for her, Netya!" Layon exclaimed, jerking his head suddenly in the direction of the sleeping area as Derith murmured, before lowering his voice again. "I will do as you say, because you are my friend. I will not ask you of the things I long to know. But in return, you must put that poor woman's heart to rest. At least speak to her before you leave."

There was no response Netya could think of to argue with. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

"The seeds you need are almost as dangerous as the bitterthorn berries themselves. I will have to wake Seymon to find them, and think of some lie to explain why I have disturbed him in the middle of the night. It may take some time. Go to your mother while I am gone. I will meet you behind your house, near the bank." His expression softened a little. "You remember, our old place?"

"I could not forget in just a year," Netya said, refusing to give in to more tears. She suspected they would come of their own accord soon enough, whether she fought them or not.

"It feels like you have been gone so much longer." Layon squeezed her hands, then lifted up her headdress so that he could look into her eyes. She need not have hurried him along. After taking in the sight of her for only a brief moment, he lifted his cloak from where it lay crumpled on the ground, and hurried out into the darkness.