Hans and Greta started the long walk to the kingdom. He remembered what his father said of it.

“The smell of too many people and not enough trees.”

And that was true. But it was also exciting. Half the kingdom was farmland with animals and growing things. The other half was where things were made and sold. Wagon wheels. Horseshoes. Bread. Boots. So much.

They stood in front of a baker’s cart piled high with honey cakes and seeded loaves and things Hans didn’t even have names for.

“I wish you could see how wide your eyes are,” Greta said. “Like saucers.”

“All the better to see everything I want to eat,” he said.

“Be patient. You must keep your wits until we’ve bought the necessities.”

She gave him a look that he understood—she was telling him he couldn’t lose control. He couldn’t become a wolf. Not here.

He dragged his feet and pulled the little cart they’d brought with them to carry their purchases home. She was right. That didn’t make it easier.

After they finally found someone who’d make change for a gold piece, they loaded their cart with potatoes and flour, onions, dried meat, salt, cloth, and a pair of boots for each of them. They’d bought cloaks too. Greta’s was dark blue, Hans’s as green as new leaves, and as a special surprise, Greta let him choose a beautiful red one for Cappella.

“It’s easier spending money that was never yours to begin with,” Greta said. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

“I know she will.” For a moment, he even forgot about his hunger.

Everything they’d purchased had cost them less than a single gold coin. It made him feel hopeful for the future. Whatever they needed and couldn’t make, they could buy.

“Greta?” He looked at her.

“All right,” she said.

They were headed back toward the bakery cart when a commotion rose in the cobbled street. Someone important was coming. People pointed, and two golden flags with lions on them fluttered on poles carried by men in shiny clothing. Then came soldiers in heavy boots, and after that, the prince and princess.

The prince had blond hair, like Greta’s. But they looked nothing else alike. Where Greta had dark blue eyes that reminded Hans of the sky just after sunset, the prince’s eyes were so light they looked almost white. Meanwhile, the princess had pale brown hair with reddish undertones. The prince might have been showier, but he also seemed like the jagged mountaintop behind the kingdom, shoving rudely at the sky. The princess was more like something grown of valley earth, solid and true.

With so many people around, Hans thought about what Father had said about not being able to breathe in the kingdom. Then Greta cried out. Someone had bumped into her.

She pointed at a thin, ginger-haired man in a fine silk tunic. “My coins! He stole them!”

The man thrust his hips at her. “Do you want to reach into my pouch for them?” He laughed, turned, and then pushed through the crowd.

That money was theirs. It was their future, their security. Hans was hungry and he was angry, and he could not stop the wolf. His clothing ripped, and his shoes slipped from his feet, and he was on all fours, snarling. People screamed. He lunged and sank his teeth into the man’s wrist.

“Help me!” The man kicked Hans in the ribs and jerked free.

Hans snarled and prepared to bite the man again, but suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. Someone had slung a rope around his neck, squeezing his windpipe. The more he struggled, the tighter the rope got.

“Hans!” Greta cried. “Hans!”

He hunched his back, the rope taut, all thoughts of coins and breakfast forgotten. Now he wanted one thing: air. If he held very still, he could pull a thread of it through his nose.

The prince crouched in front of him. “Do you know what happens to frissers who shift outside the ghetto?”

“Albrecht, leave him alone. Can’t you see he’s not even full grown?” The princess clamped her hand on her brother’s shoulder.

The prince shrugged her hand away. “He’s big enough to be dangerous.”

“Watch your words, brother. Weres are no more dangerous than any other person.”

“He shouldn’t be here. Look at the little beast. He’s torn that man’s shirt and flesh.”

“Albrecht! Enough.”

“It’s nothing personal, Ursula. This is a dangerous frisser who’s hurt one of our human subjects. If you weren’t so emotional, you’d see the truth.”

Hans snarled, and the rope tightened. He swayed, his tongue thickening. Then the princess was next to him, steadying him, as she loosened the rope.

The prince scolded her. “I’ll tell Father you did that.”

“Shut it, Albrecht. You,” she said to Hans. “Stay here. Don’t move. Don’t let anyone provoke you.” Then she turned to Greta. “What are your names, and what happened here?”

Hans sat on his haunches. The crowd loomed.

Greta’s voice trembled. “That man stole our money.”

“She lies,” the man said.

Hans growled. The princess shot him a glance, and he lowered his head.

Prince Albrecht circled Greta. “Your frisser needs better manners.”

“Albrecht, enough. You know what Mother says about that word.”

“Mother isn’t here,” he said.

The princess turned to a guard and pointed at the thief. “Search him.”

One guard put his arm around the man’s neck, while another patted his pockets.

Greta had moved close enough to Hans that they were touching. She smelled salty and sour. Fearful.

The guard produced two gold coins, a few silvers, and a bounty of coppers.

“Is this yours?” the princess asked Greta.

“Not all of the coppers. Just some. But the gold and silver are.”

Albrecht picked the gold out of the guard’s palm. “I think it doesn’t belong to either of you.” He showed the princess the coin. “Same markings as Mother’s.”

Her brow furrowed. “How did you come by it?”

Greta’s face reddened. “It was a gift.”

“From whom?” Prince Albrecht asked.

“I—I don’t know,” Greta said.

“Oh, so I suppose it just magically appeared on your doorstep?” The prince had lifted Greta’s braid from her shoulder and was examining it.

Hans sat as still as he could, hoping the fur rising on his hackles wasn’t too obvious.

“It’s ours. I swear it.” Greta stood tall, and Hans was proud of her.

The prince and princess exchanged glances but said nothing.

“She’s lying,” the thief said.

“One of you is lying,” Princess Ursula said. “That is certain.”

“It’s our father’s gold, made by our mother.” Prince Albrecht dropped Greta’s braid and addressed the thief. “How did you come by it?”

The man reared back. “Ehh, the truth is—it was hers. She dropped it and I was trying to give it back.”

Greta’s whirled toward him. “I didn’t drop it. And I didn’t steal it either. It was given to us.”

“Enough,” the princess said. “Take the thief to the summer castle, remove his trousers, and let him walk home without them. He can think about what telling a lie and showing his ass have in common.”

“Such language, Ursula,” Prince Albrecht said. “What would Mother say?”

The princess shot him a fierce look and turned to Greta. “You cannot explain how you came to have this gold?”

Greta lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “It was left for my brother and me after our parents died. I do not know who left it. That is the truth.”

“We should tell Father,” the prince said.

“Their parents have died and it’s two coins. Hardly anything. Let’s leave them be.”

“We should enforce the laws of the kingdom,” the prince said. “This one had the king’s gold, and that one took his frisser form outside the ghetto and bit a man. That’s three laws broken.”

Princess Ursula pointed to Hans. “He can go back to the Row. The sister can come with us to the castle. We’ll ask Mother and Father what to do.”

The prince stepped close and squatted low. His face was inches from Hans’s.

The prince smelled of many things: meat, bread, metal, ash, and death. It was unmistakable, that little whiff. Hans’s heart raced.

“Don’t taunt him, Albrecht,” the princess said.

“I’m not,” the prince said. “I’m taking the measure of him.”

“Hans,” Greta said. “Go. I’ll sort all of this out and then find you.”

The prince looked at Greta as she spoke. The way he watched her made Hans’s legs feel oily and weak. He’d seen hunters in the woods before. They had exactly that look.

“Both of them should come with us,” the prince said. “I’ve always wanted a pet.”

“Albrecht, stop.”

“Perhaps we should leave it up to the cub,” the prince said. “Do you want to go with your sister into the nice, warm castle? Or do you want to cower on the Row with the rest of the frissers? What do you say, little dog? Oh, I beg your pardon. Animals can’t speak. Woof, woof.”

Hans wanted to take his human form again, but his wolf aspect resisted. It said to him, This is who you are. This is how it feels to be fully alive … how it feels to smell the world … the breath of humans … the scent of smoke on the wind … of soil and the cycle of decay and rebirth. You are a wolf, a wolf, a wolf.

But Hans knew he was human too. He was both at once. And who he was at any moment ought to be his choice and his choice alone.

His spine straightened, his fingers stretched and became sensitive at their tips, his tail slipped back into his body, and then he was crouching, unclothed, before the prince and everyone else. Cloth fell around his shoulders. The red cloak. The one he’d meant for Cappella, placed there by Greta. He stood and spoke his wish.

“I’ll go with my sister.”