Chapter One

One beast and only one howls in the woods by night.

A single scream cut through the winter's night.

My hands paused on the rope, the water bucket scraping against the side of the well as it ground to a halt. The woods were so silent I was almost sure I had imagine the cry, my ears now straining to remember the sound. The night was so quiet that I excused the cry to child's play, sure the little girl had shrieked when her brother yanked her hair.

The pulley squeaked as I yanked the bucket the rest of the way up, water splashing over the side of the well and melting the snow. There was an uneasiness in the pit of my stomach now and it was working its way into my lungs, quickening my breath as I followed the footpath back to the cottage.

I dropped the bucket when I heard the rumble of laughter. I darted off of the path, crouching behind the trees as I worked my way towards the cottage slowly, my ears picking up the sound of crying. That uneasiness hardened to dread.

"Please—" I heard the woman beg, "please don't do this."

"Where is she?"

The woman's voice shook. "Please—please—" she cried sharply as her daughter gave a sharp cry. "I beg you," the woman shouted, falling to her knees in the snow. I could see them now, the woman and her two children, the family that had provided me with shelter for the last six months.

The Dogs were there, holding lanterns and torches, their garish faces distorted with malice. One of the Dogs had the little girl in his grasp, another held the young boy face down in the snow, a knee on the middle of his back.

The woman held her brown hands up in surrender. She was asking mercy from people who were incapable of feeling empathy. "I don't know who you're talking about," she gasped, eyes fixated on her little girl, "it's only us here."

The head of the platoon, a grizzly looking man, twisted his mouth into a snarl. "In the house," he ordered. The woman started screaming immediately, thrashing around in the hold of her captor as her children were dragged back into the cottage.

"Please," she heaved, tears and mucus running down her face and neck. She let out a sharp cry as her captor kicked her swiftly in the ribs.

"Enuf," he grunted, "givin' me a fuckin' headache."

The woman started to sob.

"Spread out," Grizzly ordered his other man, reaching out as one of the Dogs placed a torch in his hand. "She's close." I froze as Grizzly lifted the flames to his face, slowly turning the torch as if to inspect it.

When he lifted his eyes it was if he was looking right through me.

"Are you just going to watch as they burn?"

"Run Aleena!" the woman screamed as she struggled at the door, her fingers prying at the frame as her captor tried to shove her through it. "Run!" I turned away sharply as the Dog kicked her in the face, breaking her jaw and silencing her before throwing her into the cottage, her children screaming.

"Go!" Grizzly shouted, throwing the torch onto the hatched roof of the cottage.

I jolted, stomach roiling with guilt and grief as I forced my feet into a run. The forest was thick and dark, made even more difficult to navigate with the fresh fallen snow and the approaching storm.

I had no choice but to run.

No choice but to keep running as I heard the crackle of fire, smelt smoke, heard the little girl scream, heard them moan, as they fell silent.

I couldn't stop to watch the cottage burn, couldn't think of the family curled up together inside, burning.

I ran through the trees, recalling the days spent with the girl and boy playing hide and seek and using the hidden places and paths they had showed me. The girl's screams cut through my ears just then and I fumbled, falling into the snow and gasping as it pushed up my sleeves and bit the thin skin there.

Gone, they were gone now.

"Goddess," I cursed, my will leaving my body as I recalled those screams, letting them bounce around my skull. I buckled and heaved, the contents of my stomach now splayed out on the snow. The smell was putrid, the taste even worse as I slipped lower, head tucked to my chest as I shoved my fist into my mouth to stifle a sob.

My mother's face came to me then and I remembered the way she looked just before she died, remembered the tiny, reassuring smile she gave me as a parting gift. She had to be the reason I kept running—she had to be enough.

The thought of the little girl's hands made me wonder if anything was enough anymore.

"Where are you, bitch?"

If nothing else, self-preservation would be enough for now.

Shutting those memories away, I picked myself up and crouched, waiting and watching until the Dogs showed themselves. There were eight men, all armoured and draped with weapons; two crossbows, three swords, two hatchets, and a mace.

Grizzly led the group, his lantern lifted to reveal his face to me. I memorized that face, every deep line and fold. That face would die first, I decided, and it would die slow.

With my eyes trained on the Dogs, I swung wide, my footsteps near silent as I cut through the trees, careful to walk on the harder snow in an effort to hide my prints. Keeping low, I turned and sprinted flat out, intent to put as much distance between myself and my pursuers.

I could hear their heavy footsteps behind me, the Dogs ill trained for the snow. Their voices were a deep rumble as they tried to provoke me out of hiding and into a frantic run. It was their laughter that bothered me the most, that made me itch to murder them outright.

I crouched in the snowbank, my heavy cloak crusting with ice along the hem. It was light blue, allowing me to hide amongst the drifts of ice and snow as my pursuers rushed by. I drew my hood tighter around my face, hiding my hair as I tightened my thick, leather gloves around the edge of my cloak.

My toes were aching from the cold, the soles of my boots damp from the bucket of water I had dropped earlier. My nose nipped, my cheeks flared, my eyes stung. It took everything I had to force myself forward, to hold my breath as my hunters drew nearer.

"—so close," one exclaimed, lifting his lantern. I recoiled from the splash of light, retreating behind a tall pine. "She must be close," he growled out in frustration, swinging his light in a wide arc. I caught the flash of his breastplate, the flame that was carved in the center of his chest.

Damatha's army of men—her Dogs as they were affectionately called.

With shaking fingers, I tugged off my gloves and tucked them deep into my cloak. I crouched deeper still, the snow reaching my knees and wriggling down my boots. I winced as the cold nipped my bare ankles.

"Spread out," another man commanded, his fur hood obscuring most of his face. "She's near."

I took a deep breath and then guided my fingers through the air, pulling the snow towards me just enough to make sure my form was hidden. My body was shaking from the effort and the dropping temperature, but I held sure—knowing that I could outlast the chill far longer than any man.

"Goddess—" one man grunted, blowing his breath into his glove to warm his fingers.

I used the cold to pull more snow, to drop the temperature a little lower. I would drive them away by making the night unbearable. A few started to slouch, drawing their body inwards as they fought with the elements and their own lack of will.

I felt a sharp snap and lost my breath, watching it crystalize in front of me. Without warning, the snow ceased, and all of the men stopped, their lanterns swinging frantically as they searched for me.

Pulling back sharply, I pressed my back to the tree and sucked in a long breath. I lifted my boots, extracting them from the snow drift as I looked around for a clear path to run. The forest was thick and dark, characteristic of the unforgiving Northern landscape.

I felt the glow of a lantern splash across my face and looked up to see a man grinning over me. His sneer was missing multiple teeth, his face was unshaven. I looked up into his eyes for one moment before I threw my hands out and blasted him with snow.

The man's holler sent the rest of the men running. I bolted, fighting against the knee-high snow and losing. My cloak was dragging behind me and I reached out and grabbed it, coiling it in my arms and exposing my body to the biting wind.

"There!" a man shouted, light from his lantern pooling around me.

I threw out my hand and blasted snow and ice backwards, not stopping to see if I hit my intended target. Bringing my hand forward, I tried to clear my path but I was quickly running out of energy.

I felt a jerk and yelped as I was thrusted backwards, my feet flying out in front of me as a man grabbed my hood and threw me to the ground. The deep snow broke my fall, cushioning my body as I sunk deeper towards the frozen ground.

My eyes closed as light splashed across my face, a burning lantern wobbling overhead. The rusting hinge made the lantern squeak as the wind threatened the flame. "There you are, girl," Grizzly growled, reaching for my hood and pulling it off of my head. My thick, bluish hair spilled out onto the snow and they gave a collective cheer.

"Grab her," Grizzly ordered.

Immediately both of my arms were seized and I was hoisted upwards. I struggled and fought, but the men laughed and jeered, tossing me around with ease. I stumbled over my heavy boots, pinpricks of pain biting into the soles of my feet as they filled with snow and chunks of sharp ice.

Grizzly held out his calloused hand, the features of his face made garish by the shadows from the lantern. His nose, thick and bulbous, looked distorted against his small eyes and cleft chin. "We've been lookin' for ya," he grunted, reaching out to take a fistful of my hair. His smile chilled me as he brought the strands to his nose and inhaled. "Did you like that show?" he asked, jerking his chin backwards to where a plume of smoke drifted upwards over the trees. "Search her."

My cloak was ripped from my body and I gave a shout, my hand shooting out to blast the nearest man with a burst of cold air. He cried out as he was thrown into a thicket of thorns and I turned my hand to the next man only to be grabbed roughly. The primal fight to resist capture seized me as I gave a yelped, desperate to dislodge the man's hold but the use of magic had tired me considerably and I barely had enough energy to fight back.

"Tsk," Grizzly clicked his tongue, "you didne' want to be doin' that."

A man with dark, oily curls stood in front of me and grinned. His hands were dirty and scarred, his fingernails caked with dried blood—a fact he made sure I knew before he dragged them down my body. I kicked when his hands came to my waist, slipping underneath my tunic and exposing the flesh of my abdomen to the cold.

"Careful," he tutted with a sly smile. He pulled the small knife I kept in my waistband and handed it to Grizzly. He continued his search and I tried to pull away, only to be held tighter. I turned my eyes to the dark sky after that. "Nothin' else."

There were no stars that night.

Grizzly twirled the knife. "The Queen wants ya bad, girl," he informed me, "she's got a pretty penny o'er yer head and is promisin' to make the man who finds ya captain o' the Dogs."

"She's not a queen," I spat, my voice rough from disuse and pinched high from stress.

Grizzly raised a bushy brow. "That's treason I reckon," he said, "is that why she wants ya so bad?"

I didn't answer.

The oily man came close again and just like Grizzly, he took a fistful of hair and tugged. "We don' have to take 'er back so soon, do we?" he asked, "we can have some fun, no Sir?"

Grizzly ground out a laugh and picked up my cloak from the ground. He shook the snow off of it and then pressed it to his nose. "There's nothin' like the smell of a girlie, is there?" The men all rumbled in agreement, jeering one another as they reached their hands towards my cloak.

The oily man pressed his dirty hands to my face and I recoiled with a glare, that same primal instinct making my teeth grind. "You'd be lucky ta be with us for a nigh' ya know, girl. Better with us than in ol' Damatha's cell."

"I'd rather the cell," I spat back, titling my head as far away from the man as I could.

The oily man laughed along with the others before he turned to Grizzly. "Ya know, I never checked under 'er dress," he told the Captain. "Do ya think I should?"

I realised then that I was a rabbit caught in a snare forced to face down the mouth of a wolf.

Grizzly clutched my cloak tighter and nodded.

"No," I grunted, once again feeling the vice-like grip of the men who held me.

The oily man held out his filthy hands. "I'm just followin' orders." He reached out and grasped the collar of my tunic, his eyes trying to catch a look. I pulled away savagely, almost enough to make my captors stumble in the snow.

The oily man glared and then lumbered forward, his hands lifting the bottom of my tunic once more. I kicked out and caught him in the knee. He wailed as he fell. Before he could stand again, I brought my knee straight to his nose.

"Bitch!" he screamed as he clutched his face, bright red drops spotting the pristine snow.

I spat on him.

Grizzly barreled forward and pushed the oily man out of the way. "Ye got to treat 'er like a lady," he ground out through gritted teeth. His hand clutched the back of my neck as he spun me around savagely, his other hand firm on my back as he pressed my face to the ground.

The men laughed and slurred, their swinging lanterns casting a distorted shadow of Grizzly's body hunched over mind in the snow. I bucked widely, trying to force myself upwards despite Grizzly's heavy paw. With a violent push and a deep growl, Grizzly threw me to the ground.

The snow engulfed me, freezing the edges of my skin whilst rubbing my cheeks a cherry red raw. I balled my hands into fists, ignoring the dull, freezing thump in my fingers. Looking inwards, I tried to draw on whatever energy I had left, forcing it to push through my icy veins.

"The Queen ain't the only one who wants ya dead," Grizzly whispered to me, a speck of spit clinging to his beard. I recoiled as his calloused fingers drew a line down my face, his eyes reflecting the lantern's light like an animal's. "Maybe I should just kill ya m'self."

I shivered deeply, my teeth slamming together as I watched the men pass my cloak around. Grizzly sat his lantern down in the snow beside us and then reached for his belt, his eyes fixed firmly on my chest as he drew out a short blade.

With a swift kick, I sent the lantern flying for his head. Grizzly cried out as sparks danced across his face and cloak, a few embers sinking into his clothing and catching fire. He swore and grunted as his men boomed with laughter.

I picked up the shattered lantern and swung out again, aiming for the man's gnarled face. Grizzly grabbed my elbow and gave a sharp twist. With a bitter cry I released the lantern, the glass sinking deep into the snow and my only weapon disappearing with it.

"—how dare ya," Grizzly snarled, shocked. "I should whip ya for that."

The men leered, their features made sinister by the flickering light. Grizzly slapped me hard across the face, the resounding smack loud enough to still the trees. I sucked in a sharp, cutting breath as he loomed over me, his hands petting me heavily.

I stared up at the trees, listening to the howling wind and watching the leafs dancing dizzily above me.

I inhaled, closed my eyes, and exhaled.

Grizzly grunted as he jerked backwards, clutching the ice that was lodged deep into the centre of his chest. One by one, the lanterns went out as the men clutching them fell to the ground, speared through their merciless hearts by a knife carved from ice.

Grizzly grabbed my shoulder and pulled me roughly to him, his eyes bloodshot and frozen with fear and disbelief. "Witch," he snarled, blood bubbling from his lips, pouring out of the wound in his chest. His blood was hot enough to melt the dagger of ice that pierced him and the air was cold enough to freeze his blood as it left him. I wiped the thin trail of blood from the corner of my own mouth and grinned.

"Enjoy the flames of hell," I said, grabbing what was left of the thick blade of ice in his chest and twisting. Grizzly groaned and then his shoulders caved in, his body slumping as I pushed him backwards into the snow until his face was covered by it.

I crouched on my knees as I watched as the snow turn red and his body blue.

Then I fell backwards and was still. My eyes fluttered closed, the shivering trees replaced by an endless void. I shivered and trembled, my knees drawing to my chest as I curled inwards. My head thumped dully, my limbs encased in ice as I fought off fatigue and nausea.

I sunk deeper and deeper into the state between consciousness and unconsciousness, my ears becoming more sensitive to the sounds of the woods around me whilst my head grew heavier. I heard the footsteps of critters as they skittered across the brambles, up the trunk, and through the tree tops. I heard the creek in the distance as it fought off the looming ice from the bank. I heard the swish of the trees as the wind rattled them, evicting the snow from the branches.

And then I heard footsteps.

I held my breath and tucked my face deeper into my chest, my hair spilling across my cheek and providing cover. I listened as the man approached, his footsteps light across the sparkling snow.

There was no falter in his breath as he came across the bodies, no stammer in his heart, nor stumble in his steps. This was a man who was no stranger to violence. I strained my ears as the man paused, listening as he turned one of the soldiers over and started rifling through his pockets and satchel.

A match struck and then light danced across my eyelids as the man lit a lantern, using it to guide him through the bloodbath. I forced one eye open, watching as the man crouched in front of the next soldier.

He stuffed an apple into his own satchel, then a pocket knife, then a small pouch of gold coins. The man lifted the soldier's crossbow into the air and turned it around a few times before slinging it across his back and rolling the body to free the arrows from underneath.

I held my breath as the man turned, the light behind him casting a shadow across his face that was deep enough to obscure the finer details of his features. The man touched Grizzly's body next, his form close enough for me to ponder the make of his cloak. It wasn't fashioned in a style I recognized nor was it made with Northern skins.

He was a foreigner.

I watched the man lift his tanned gloves to the ice lodged in Grizzly's chest, his fingers worrying around the frayed wound. With an air of cold indifference, the man pulled Grizzly's satchel from underneath his body and starting pillaging. The foreigner pulled a pocket watch from underneath Grizzly's breast plate and then he threw his body back into the snow.

I snapped both eyes closed as the man swung his light towards me.

My body was humming with tension as the man approached, his fur-lined boots crunching in the snow. He set his lantern down beside me and hesitated, my skin pebbling where he let his hands hover.

I felt his hand touch mine and sprung, launching myself forward and catching him off guard as I slammed my shoulder into his chest. The man gave a low cry and rolled to the side, drawing an arrow before I could draw in a breath.

"You're alive," he stated, his voice smooth and unlike the rough Northern dialect I had grown up overhearing.

"You're a thief," I retaliated.

"Scavenger," the man fired back, lowering his bow a fraction.

"Stealing from the dead is bad luck," I countered.

"Good luck has always remained a stranger to me," the man stated, dropping his bow altogether and sheathing his arrow. I caught a flash of golden hair beneath his hood, then a sliver of tanned skin that made me think of the beaches I had heard about in ballads. He was not from the North—that much was clear.

I reached for my cloak and shook off the snow, the man followed me with eyes the deep blue of an azure sky. We both stood at the same time, the man drawing his satchel nearer as he watched me tie a bow at my neck.

I looked at the splotches of blood across the snow and then met the eyes of the foreigner. "You aren't going to ask me about these men," I stated, "nor will you speak of my presence in this forest tonight."

The man inclined his head. "So long as you offer me the same courtesy."

I nodded, clutching the lining of my cloak as the man's mouth twitched into a smile that evaporated almost instantly. I couldn't place the softness of his face, the slightness of his nose or the gentle slope of his lips. His features were so unlike the roguish Northern men I had grown accustomed to.

I couldn't decide if this man came from the sun dipped clouds of heaven or the burning embers of hell.

I watched as he turned and left, darting through the trees like a fox in the wood. The trees swallowed his figure, the branches and thicket obscuring his form after only a few yards. The forest fell silent then and I turned from the men I had murdered, wondering what sort of luck followed me.

I stalked through the night once more, my body thawing slowly beneath my heavy cloak. I pulled the hood over my hair and retrieved my leather gloves from the inside pocket, pulling them on over my marked hands.

A wolf howled in the distance, the predator's call to a lonely and cold moon. I wanted to dip my head back and screech and yelp, wanted to call out to the moon in fury, curse it for forgetting the promises it had made to my mother. My lips were still and silent as I walked, my stomach rumbling with need as my thighs stung from exhaustion.

It was no coincidence that I followed the stars to the tavern that night.

The squat building was glowing in the distance, warm light spilling out onto the crooked trees and icy path. I shook the snow from my boots as I stepped onto the gravel, thankful for a clear walk towards the sleepy bar.

The tavern was built from mismatched stone walls and a thatched roof. The chimney was pumping out smoke, black enough to stand out against the snow-dappled trees. The door was propped open by a lonesome old boot, allowing both the smell of stew and the sound of laughter and slurred words to pour out from the establishment.

I approached slowly, as if I were a coyote approaching a fresh carcass, unsure if the wolves were still lurking. I kept my gloves on as I pushed open the door, the smell of smoke and whiskey pinching the inside of my nose.

There were just under a dozen patrons left in the pub, a few sprinkled around tables while the majority congregated around the bar top. I caught the eyes of a few women who scowled at me, their wrinkled skin and haggard hair fueling their jealousy as they caught my youthful skin and tight figure.

I slid onto a barstool quietly, slipping my hood off my head and setting my hands in my lap. Candles flickered all around, some of the men looming dangerously close to the flames as they reached for their drinks, their long beards only a hair's length from catching fire.

"Cheers!" they cried, drinks sloshing and spilling as they clinked them together. The patrons' faces were ruddy with drink, their eyes fixed in permanent slits as they fought to see through the alcohol's haze.

"What can I get ya, doll?" the bartender asked, her face kind beneath a heap of unruly black hair. Her mouth puckered slightly when I lifted my eyes to hers. I watched as her eyes flicked away, landing on a young man who was curled around a pitcher of ale. "Hungry?" she asked.

I nodded and she spun away, disappearing into the kitchen but not before casting another long look at the young man. The men beside me jeered and sang as they drank, demanding refills faster than the slim boy behind the bar could pour them. He was around the same age as the boy who had burned tonight.

I pushed back those memories along with rising bile.

The slim kid had a mess of black hair, just as unruly as the bartender's. It was his face that gave away their relation. He had the same high, round cheekbones and the same slope to his nose as his mother. From the grimace on his face and the shake in his hands, he hadn't inherited her tough disposition.

The woman returned with a bowl of stew and a wooden spoon. "It's rabbit t'night," she announced, wiping her hands on her apron. She lifted a dark brow as if to invite me to challenge her menu. "Thirsty?"

I shook my head and she moved onto the next customer, her eyes once again drifting to the young man at the end of the bar. I picked up my spoon and scoffed down my stew, not bothering to taste the spices—or lack thereof—or ponder the origin of the meat.

The men beside me guzzled the last of their drinks and pulled on their caps, dropping gold and silver coins on the bar top before bidding the bartender farewell and stumbling out into the cold night. I watched the young boy's shoulders visibly relax as he reached for the mop and bucket, thankful the customers were leaving.

Now no one sat between me and the young man.

The bartender came round with her cloth, wiping up the spills from the men before. "How was it?" she asked, inclining her head to my empty bowl. I pushed it towards her.

"Delicious," I answered, drawing the eyes of the young man.

He had pale eyes, almost translucent and a shock of thick, dark hair. His brow was strong, his nose slightly sloped, his cheeks high and round. He had a taut mouth, fixed into a frown, and a glare that made my skin pebble.

"Rafi," the bartender warned.

The man—Rafi—stood, abandoning his ale as he stalked towards me and pulled out the stool next to mine. The bartender called his name again but he waved her off, his eyes focused on mine with an intensity that both chilled and intrigued me.

I held still as he brought his face close to mine. "What is Aleena Ashwood doing in this bar?"

I turned to ice.

Rafi lifted his hand and the boy bartender hurried with another ale, his curious eyes flickering between us. Rafi looked away as he chugged and then drew the back of his hand across his mouth. His empty mug meeting the bar top with violence.

"I'm not—"

Rafi shook his head, holding up a finger as he requested another drink. I watched transfixed as he leaned back slightly, pulling down the collar of his jacket to reveal the image of a flame tattooed into his neck. "I know who ya are," he murmured, taking another deep swig of his ale, his eyes never pulling away from my face.

I reached into my pocket and grabbed a few silver coins, throwing them onto the bar top. Rafi caught my hand before I could withdraw it and yanked off my leather glove. I curled my fingers as he grinned, letting me go only after seeing the tiny moons tattooed on my fingers, the eight stages of the cycle tattooed just below each knuckle.

My eyes dropped to his waist and I caught the hatchet he kept there, along with the dagger and heavy sword. Between his weapons, bulk of muscle, and knowledge—I was at a disadvantage.

"What are ya doing 'ere?" he asked, tipping the rest of the ale into his mouth.

"Passing through," I answered darkly, my eyes trained on the hatchet as I waited for the right moment. From the corner of my eye I saw the bartender watching us from the mouth of the kitchen, her arm on her son's wrist.

"Passing through ta where?" Rafi asked, ignoring the curious glances from the ladies in the corner booth. I could understand their infatuation, could see the lure of his thick lashes and pale eyes.

"Anywhere," I spat.

His eyes flashed. "That's a shame," he murmured, "I was hopin' you'd be interested in headin' North."

I hissed through my teeth, my fingertips growing numb with cold. "The only way I'm going North with you is if you drag my cold body through the snow."

Rafi stared for a moment and then he laughed. I just sat and stared, waiting for him to nbe done. He inclined his head to the young boy and waited until he had more ale to turn his body towards mine. I watched the hatchet shift at his waist.

"I need ya warm, hen," Rafi said, his voice holding the remnants of a chuckle.

I reached for the hatchet and Rafi struck, grabbing my wrist and twisting. I hissed and jerked my hand around, clutching his wrist and sending a wave of ice into his skin. I watched him clench his teeth, the only sign of discomfort he displayed as his eyes glinted with amusement.

"I'll kill you," I threatened, low enough so the other diners and drinkers wouldn't hear.

Rafi laughed again, his entire frame shaking. "Oh, I'd like ta see ya try."

I let his skin get a little colder underneath my touch.

"I won't let one of Damatha's Dogs take me in," I warned.

Rafi's teeth gleamed as he grinned. "I'm no one of her mutts, doll," he assured me, "in fact, her Dogs are huntin' me too."

I withdrew my hand and he shook out his arm, fingers worrying over the skin I'd nipped with frostbite. "You're one of them," I stated, looking pointedly to the tattoo on his neck.

Rafi took a few swigs of his ale, swishing it around his mouth and grimacing. "I used ta be," he answered, "before I wasn't." I watched his eye flit to the open door and then back to his drink. I recognized that look.

"You defected," I guessed.

Rafi licked his lips and leaned closer. "You need ma help," he taunted, "I know ye do."

I tugged my gloves back on. "What makes you think I require help?"

Rafi's eyes drifted to the small speck of blood on my cloak. "It's no yours," he whispered, "legends say yer blood runs blue."

My throat tightened. "How do I know this isn't a trick?" I asked, "how do I know this isn't a new scheme thought up to bring me to her?"

"Ya don't," Rafi answered with a shrug. "I know ya need help getting up North to yer allies, I know ya need protection, I know ya can't kill every one o' Damatha's Dogs that come after ya. I know how they work, I know how they hunt—I can help ya get to where ya need ta go."

I reached into my cloak and withdrew my coin purse. I handed the entire bag over to the man. Rafi raised a dark brow, his mouth twisting with another burst of laughter. My face warmed again as I snatched my money back.

"What makes ya think I want yer coins?" he asked.

"You must want payment," I growled.

Rafi nodded. "I want a pardon," he explained, "once yer done with Damatha."

My gut twisted. Of course.

"I don't know your crimes," I said tightly.

Rafi's face twisted with shadows. "I have only one crime, Miss Ashwood, and it would chill even yer blood if I told ya what it was."

I held his eye for a long time before I held out my hand. "Then I'll never ask what it is." He grinned and planted his hand in mine. I gave a tight squeeze, letting him feel the chill of my skin through my glove as I added, "my name is Lee."

My new protector smiled, "and I'm Rafi Ryder." 

* * *

Quotations at the beginning of the chapter from Angela Carter's The Company of Wolves.