Eight

“Sofia’s asleep?” Mama asked as I snuck out of the back room, letting the curtain fall closed behind me.

“Like the dead.”

She frowned. “I don’t care for that expression.”

That felt reasonable, considering. “She’s sleeping like a baby,” I amended, fighting the urge to start firing questions at her. Holding my tongue for the rest of the day had been almost as much work as churning butter and kneading dough, and now that we were finally alone, I felt like I was about to burst from my need for information.

Yet my mother was as calm and composed as ever, and I knew from experience that she would not talk until she was ready.

She wore a red cloak just like mine, except that white fur trim lined not only her hood, but the entire garment.

“You’ve had that since you were my age?” I asked, and she nodded.

Despite the combination of fear and relief I’d seen in her eyes when I’d returned from my trial intact, a rare gleam of pride shined in them now. It must have been difficult for her to maintain her secret for so long. “I only wear it at night, when I head into the dark wood.”

“Why? It’s beautiful.”

She gave me a small smile. “I don’t like to stand out.”

“Should I save mine for our secret work?”

“No. Our neighbors have already seen your cloak and they’ll find it strange if you stop wearing it.”

“Did they see yours, when you headed into the woods for your trial?”

“No, because I was already in the woods. I grew up in the cabin, remember?”

Actually, I’d forgotten.

“How have you kept the trim so clean?” I asked, kneeling to examine the bottom hem of her cloak. Though the fur around her feet must have been brushing the ground for years, I could see no sign of use or discoloration in it.

“Whitewulf fur doesn’t stain easily. Dirt seems to slide right off of it.”

Come to think of it, the one I’d killed in the dark wood had looked pretty bright, despite presumably living in the forest.

“I always told your grandmother that we should use the fur for cleaning.” My mother laughed softly. “But she said that would be disrespecting both the beast itself and the effort that went into slaying it.”

“That does sound like Gran.” I stood and took the leather belt my mother handed me. “You must have slain many of them, to have this much fur on your cloak.”

My mother huffed. “I’ve dispatched many more than this fur represents. To say nothing of the other monsters.”

The thought of how many must be out there sent a chill across my flesh.

“Are you ready?”

“Almost.” I took my new hatchet from the shelf over the bread oven and dropped it into a loop on my belt, then I fastened my own cloak over my shoulders. “Should we take a lantern?”

“We can’t sneak past the watchman on duty carrying a light, and we won’t need one. You will see better in normal darkness too, now, not just in the dark wood.” My mother hesitated at the door, turning to look at the curtain leading into the back room. “I’ve never left Sofia alone.”

“She’ll be fine. She sleeps like the— Um . . . babies,” I said, and my mother’s lips quirked up. “Did you ever have to leave me alone when I was little?”

“No. Your father was here to watch you when I had to venture into the dark wood. And you were old enough to take care of your sister in an emergency, by the time he died.”

I’d been eight years old, the same age Sofia was now, but . . . “I had no idea you ever left in the night.”

“That’s because I didn’t linger in the front room talking,” she chided with a smile. Then she pushed the door open quietly, and I followed her out into the cold night, relieved to note that she was right. My eyes made much better use of moonlight now.

We walked down the dark dirt path past the town square, headed toward the western edge of the village. Fear and anticipation buzzed beneath my skin at the thought of going back into the dark wood.

“What are we doing tonight, exactly?”

“Hunting. Patrolling. Learning. Testing your stamina and reflexes.”

“By killing monsters?”

“Yes. Culling them from the population. That is the lion’s share of our duty.”

“When were you planning to tell me about my betrothal?” I asked as we quietly passed the potter’s cottage.

“Let’s try not to wake all of Oakvale,” she scolded with a glance around at all the darkened homes. There wasn’t so much as a candle lit in a single window. The only source of light, other than the moon and a sprinkling of stars, was the distant bob of a lantern to the east, carried by a watchman on patrol duty. And beyond that, the glow of the halo of torches defining the edge of the forest.

“I need to know,” I insisted softly.

My mother sighed, then she glanced to the west, toward the broad stretch of dark wood in the distance. She took my elbow and guided me somewhat insistently down the path until she could tug me behind a barn, to prevent the watchman on patrol from catching a glimpse of moonlight gleaming off her white fur trim.

“Mama, how could I be betrothed?” I snapped, having reached the end of my patience. “How could you not tell me I’m betrothed?”

“It wouldn’t have made any sense to tell you before your ascension.” Her jaw was set in a firm line, but her gaze looked worried. As if she weren’t entirely confident in that decision. “Until you discovered what you are, you couldn’t have understood the reason for the betrothal.”

“And why couldn’t you tell me what I am? Why wait until my sixteenth year, then lure me into the dark wood under false pretenses?”

My mother’s sigh seemed to carry the weight of the world. “I’m sorry, Adele. That isn’t how I wanted it. But the trial tests your instincts. Your reaction to danger, before you know what you’re capable of. Spilling whitewulf blood triggers the first change into a redwulf.”

“You couldn’t have warned me? Or taught me how to kill a whitewulf?”

“It doesn’t work that way. Guardians have tried that in the past, and the girls who knew what was coming failed to ascend. To transform. It seems that only those who act on true instinct are capable of claiming their guardian form. Which is why you can’t tell Sofia any of this.”

Her trial was eight years away, yet already I was terrified for my little sister. “This is barbaric.”

“It certainly used to be,” my mother agreed. “We used to have to send girls into the dark wood and just hope they ran into a whitewulf before something else killed them. That’s how my aunt died. So your grandmother decided it would be safer to catch a wolf and release it directly into a potential guardian’s path. Her innovation preserved the test of pure instinct, yet prevented me from running into something else in the woods before I’d spilled whitewulf blood. Before I’d claimed my destiny and my abilities. She likely saved my life and yours. And Sofia’s. And by extension, she saved the lives of everyone we will protect over the coming years.

“Those people are why it is important for you to accept your calling. Your responsibility. And to marry a man who can give you daughters who will one day take up that same mantle.”

My mother exhaled slowly, meeting my gaze in the moonlight. “Your betrothed is named Maxime Bernard, and he’s a few years older than you. I believe he’s seen nineteen summers.”

“He’s not Grainger,” I said through clenched teeth.

“He lives in Ashborne, and he will—”

“Mama, are you going to make me marry him?” My voice sounded sharp with horror.

“Of course not. If you think you cannot learn to love him, you may break off the betrothal. But you will at least hear me out. At least understand what your options are before you make your choice. And I certainly hope you know how very fortunate you are, to even have a choice.”

I nodded, my jaw clenched hard enough to ache. I did know that.

“Max is a carpenter,” my mother continued. “Having seen his father’s work, I suspect he is a very good carpenter, and he’s already built you a cottage on the southern edge of the village of Ashborne, a few days’ journey to the north of here.”

My gaze narrowed on her in the dark. “How do you know he’s built a cottage?”

“Do you remember the merchant who came shortly before the freeze? He was from Ashborne. He brought me a message from Max’s mother, assuring me that he is prepared for your union. That he has met his obligations, as negotiated by your father and me on your behalf when you were not yet two years old.”

“He’s prepared . . .” I closed my eyes, trying to think it through. “Which means he—this Maxime—must have known about our betrothal for some time?”

She nodded. “His mother assures me that he’s eager to meet you. To begin your life together. To prove himself worthy of calling a guardian—of calling you—his wife.”

“But I’ve never . . . Mama, I’ve never even seen him! He might hate me! I might hate him!” And even if I didn’t, he wasn’t Grainger!

And finally, the full impact of what I’d just heard hit me. “A cottage in Ashborne. I’m to live there? I’m to leave Oakvale? Leave you, and Gran, and Sofia?”

Sofia was only eight years old. If frequent visits couldn’t be arranged, she would grow up with no better memory of me than I had of our father.

And . . .

“Mama, Elena and I are supposed to be neighbors! We’re supposed to raise our children together.”

“I know that’s what you wanted, Adele, but a guardian has to put her duty before her personal interests. And this is what we agreed to in the negotiation.” Pain flickered behind her eyes, and I realized that despite the arrangements she’d made, she dreaded the thought of my absence. Then her gaze went carefully blank. “All the other benefits of marriage aside, Maxime will provide you with a home, and in return, you will protect Ashborne from the dark wood.”

“But . . . why? Why can’t I stay here?” Assuming I accepted this union. Which I had no intention of doing. I intended to prove to her that Grainger would choose me over his duty to the village, if it came down to that. But how could I prove that without showing him what we were?

“Max’s mother was only blessed with one daughter, and she died in infancy. The villagers of Ashborne need you. Whether they know it or not.”

The field seemed to spin around me as I tried to make sense of what I was hearing. “You’re selling me in service to another village? To people I’ve never met? To a husband I’ve never even seen?”

“Adele, you are not the first couple to be betrothed as children. This is a common arrangement among guardians. Marriage is a contract with benefits to both parties, and your father and I made sure your needs were well-represented. You will be cared for. You will be treasured, which is much more than most new brides can expect. And you will be free to carry out your responsibility—to hunt monsters in the dark wood—in peace. Alongside a husband who will protect you from villagers likely to misunderstand.”

“How will he do that?”

“He will explain away any necessary absences. He will answer any difficult questions. He will be your anchor to the community and your shield from suspicion. And he will be your confidant. As your father was for me.” The longing and weariness in her voice spoke volumes about how much she still missed him.

“And Sofia?” I asked. “Have you sold her hand as well?”

My mother flinched, looking wounded by the accusation. “She will stay here, and in a few years, Max’s younger brother, Alexandre, will come apprentice with Monsieur Girard.” The local carpenter. “And when your sister is old enough, Alex and Sofia will be wed.”

“If she agrees.”

“Yes,” my mother conceded. “And you could be instrumental in helping her see the wisdom of that.”

“Assuming she survives her trial.”

“Don’t say such things,” she snapped. “Sofia will be fine. She is already exceptionally fast and well-coordinated. As are you.”

That was true. I’d beaten Grainger in every race we’d run since we were small children. Even now, when no one was watching, he would sometimes challenge me to a race around the northern village pasture, which inevitably ended with us collapsing into each other’s arms and laughing like loons.

“I can’t marry this Max, Mama. I don’t even know him. And I love Grainger.”

She stared at me for a long moment before answering, studying me as if she were assessing my sincerity. And finally she sighed, her breath a puffy white cloud against the dark night. “You will at least give Max a chance to win your heart. He’ll be in Oakvale soon.”

“He’s coming here? Why?”

“To court you, of course. To get to know you in advance of your marriage. If you agree, you’re to be wed . . . well, as soon as the next full moon.”

Shock washed over me like an icy dip in the river. “That isn’t possible. There’s still the marchet. He’ll have to—”

“That’s all already taken care of. The Bernards are very eager to have you, Adele. He will treasure you. The entire village will love you.”

My chest felt tight. I felt as if I were being carried along in the wake of my mother’s plans for me, like a cart hauled behind a galloping horse.

How could everything have changed so quickly?

“You can’t possibly be sure of any of that. Just because you and Papa were happy—”

“That wasn’t always true for your father and me. It took some time, but though our marriage began as a strategic arrangement, it blossomed into a very special connection. We shared my secret from the beginning, and that became an iron-clad bond between us. We grew to love each other very much. And he loved you and Sofia even more. He wanted this safety and security for you, Adele. He traveled to Ashborne himself to negotiate the betrothal. He would want you to at least give Maxime a chance.”

I groaned. That was the one statement she knew I would not argue with. I’d never gone against my father’s wishes while he was alive, and I wasn’t going to start now. At least, not without a reason that didn’t sound like the whining of a spoiled girl over her own good fortune. Which meant I would have to meet this Max. I’d have to get to know him well enough to find a valid objection to the union.

“Fine.”

“You will give him a chance to court you?”

I crossed my arms over the front of my cloak. “Do I have any choice?”

“Of course you have a choice. As I said, if you don’t like him—if you honestly can’t imagine ever growing to like him—you do not have to marry him.”

“But the people of Ashborne will suffer for my decision.”

“Yes. I won’t lie to you about that. Your betrothal is about more than the union itself. More than the children you will have. It is about protecting an entire village whose guardian will soon be too old to carry the mantle all on her own.”

“That isn’t fair, Mama.”

“Life isn’t fair, Adele. And without us, eventually places like Oakvale and Ashborne will be swallowed by the dark wood.”

So many lives, all dependent upon my decisions. My discretion and my dedication to a mission I’d only just discovered.

The weight of such a responsibility threatened to crush me.

With a sigh, I turned away from my mother and marched quietly toward the edge of the village.