Chapter One
Hooves clattered on the dirt road, wolf paws padding softly beneath them. Armor clanked and leather creaked under the autumn sun. Sapphire flags danced in the wind, a billowing image of a silver wolf embossed on the soft fabric. At the head of the army rode a man, his face serious and his eyes focused on the road ahead. A thin, silver ring lay over his blonde locks and an azure cloak fluttered over the hindquarters of his bay war-horse. His armor shone, and his horse pranced under the protective metal breast, neck, and faceplates it wore. Kumar took a deep breath of the crisp air, his blue eyes straying from the road ahead to the white she wolf that walked beside his horse.
“Do you think he has her already?” he asked gruffly in wolf tongue.
Jeera glanced at him out of the corner of her muddy black eyes, gauging his reaction before replying cautiously, “Yes.”
He clenched his travel stubbled jaw, the nostrils at the bottom of his straight nose flaring with anger. He clenched his hands around the thick reins, returning his penetrating gaze back to the only road that ventured through Forest Immul.
His stomach growled. They had been on the road now for seventeen days and it was midday and Kumar hadn’t allowed his soldiers to stop for breakfast yet. He wanted to get to Trebizond’s capital city as soon as possible. But as he felt himself sway slightly in the saddle, he heard Jeera’s voice, strongly resembling Garnier’s, reprimand him harshly.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, Kumar. But we won’t be able to help Toomay at all when we’re weak with hunger,” Jeera growled sharply as her ears pricked at the sound of his stomach rumbling. “I swear, sometimes you need a sharp bite to put you back in your place…”
Kumar sighed before he called a halt. She was right. He couldn’t do this anymore. If he was going to win back his throne, he would need to take excellent care of his soldiers. Eeran’s army still outnumbered his.
The army sprawled over the road and under the shade of nearby trees, eating hunks of bread, cheese, and meat as they watched the firey fall leaves drift to the ground. A breath of heat came from further within the trees; the troops could just see glimpses of the leathery hide the heat belonged to between the leaves. It had taken them awhile to become used to Weiryn’s presence but now they ate comfortably, grateful for the dragon’s warm breath. A few troops watched their king pace on the road, some with sympathy reflecting in their war torn eyes. They had heard what had happened along the Langaria-Trebizond border. King Dufthak had begun his attack. Both Trebizondian and Natalian armies had been engaged in battle. A battle that was still swelling to surround the border villages and great Oaken Mountain Range. Now they marched to Tatorak, the capital city of Trebizond’s Southern Province, named in tribute to the great human god, Tatorak himself.
Kumar continued to pace, listening to the dirt crunch beneath his leather boots and the chain mail clink against his steel chest plate, inscribed with the Trebizond emblem of the majestic wolf. He ran a hand through his hair before he halted in the middle of the road, gazing yearningly towards Tatorak. Towards Toomay. Yet he felt the pull of Lydia behind him. He could imagine her vividly sitting atop the palace wall of Amorak, her dress rippling in the breeze, her auburn hair caressing her face, those honey eyes dancing as she smiled at him.
He closed his eyes and took a breath, clearing his head with the cool air. Summer had fled quickly. Winter was on its way. The army wouldn’t be able to turn back to Amorak until the snows melted. If something went horridly wrong there would be no retreat once the snows blocked the main roads. His men and wolves would be inevitably caught and slaughtered by Eeran’s elite. Kumar threw his face towards the sky and searched for his god. He found Tatorak’s bleak, winter-dulled face in the sun and gave a quick prayer. Tonight, when Luna, the wolf goddess and companion of Tatorak, made her appearance in the moon, he would pray to her too. For Toomay, his sister.
Jeera lay with her head on her paws; her large wolf ears pricked and alert. The breeze ruffled her brilliant white coat. Her eyes shifted and changed from their brooding dark colour back to her original electric blue. She rested her gaze on her human, barely twenty and carrying the greatest weight in the world upon his shoulders. The true king of Trebizond.
“Where’s Airies?” Kumar asked from across the road, his eyes still fixed on the tree filled horizon.
“Last time I heard, he was back with the provision caravans. He may be up ahead scouting the forest,” Jeera replied, raising her black nose to sniff the air before she shook her head. “He’s downwind of us. Probably back with the caravans.”
Kumar nodded, his eyes distant as he turned and continued to pace. Too many battle plans were scattering around in his head. Too many strategies were crowding his thoughts. And haunting every thought was his worry for Toomay.
“What do you think he’ll do to her?” Kumar forced out, halting in front of the she wolf.
Jeera raised herself up onto her haunches, raising her head to meet his gaze. “He is human,” she paused, her voice strained, “and what makes it worse, is that he is a man.”

~<*><*><*>~

Tears rolled down Toomay’s face as she watched Eeran’s soldiers drag Keyar along the marble tile and out of the grand throne hall. Helplessly she struggled once again against the iron grips that the men had around her arms. Her long blonde hair was knotted and strewn wildly around her face. And her sapphire eyes were wide with terror and misery, misery that gnawed at her stomach and ripped at her heart. The terror stood before her, smirking in the form of a man. His chocolate curls framed the olive face perfectly, accented by a light gold crown encrusted with jewels. Deep brown eyes swirling with cruelty glinted at her from under black brows. Hard lips were stretched over white teeth to display an unpleasant smile.
King Eeran stood for a moment, examining his prize properly; scrutinizing Toomay’s every feature as he circled around her like a starving vulture. Toomay raised her chin slightly, her soft lips trembling. She stared past him, focusing on the airy throne hall around her. Soldiers in shining armor stood in the light hall, positioned beside the numerous pillars that lined each side. A raised dais had been built out of marble at the far end. Two thrones stood upon it, mother of pearl and gold inlay winding through them. Behind the thrones sat the outside world that shone through panes of expensive glass. Tatorak’s harbor lay beyond and below, for the palace stood on a cliff that sloped and curved gradually to the sea.
Dread poured like molten metal through Toomay’s veins as Eeran halted before her.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment, Toomay,” he said, his voice dangerously calm, “you’ve been quite… elusive. I hope that’s all over.”
“Lachista devour your soul,” Toomay hissed.
His laugh, cold and heartless, echoed through the hall. “Get her cleaned up.”
Two maids appeared from the shadows of the many arches that lined the walls behind the pillars, hurrying towards Toomay. The soldiers grumbled and tugged at her arms, following as the two maids turned down a corridor.
Toomay watched the two maids warily, detesting them more and more as they whispered together and gossiped down the hallway. The soldiers that held her talked lowly to each other. Toomay didn’t even bother to listen. She lost herself in her own thoughts as they traveled through the many winding corridors. Finally they reached a small bathing room.
“You may leave,” one of the maids said to the soldiers as they brought Toomay in, “the girl will be losing enough pride today, she doesn’t need your prying eyes on her too.”
Toomay stiffened as the men laughed darkly, letting go of her and reluctantly leaving the room, for of course, their eyes were now drawn to the body they had just been escorting.
“Now come on, milady,” the smaller, pudgier maid said, “into the tub.”
She obeyed, shedding her clothes and slipping into the warm water of the porcelain bath that sat in the middle of the tiled floor. Her thoughts were still with Keyar as the maids busied themselves scrubbing away the dirt and blood from her face and arms.

~<*><*><*>~

The harsh sound of his body grinding against stone rang in Keyar’s ears as he slid to the ground in the dungeon he had been tossed in. He swore as the taste of blood washed over his tongue. Despite the nausea that still had a hold on him from the sleeping spell, Keyar shot to his feet and crossed the dungeon within a few steps.
The cell door was thick and wooden, only a small square of metal bars allowed any light from the torch-lit hall to be shed into Keyar’s dungeon. Keyar wrapped his fingers around the bars and shook the door fiercely.
“Let me out!” he shouted at the guard that had tossed him into the cell.
The guard laughed and said something lowly to his fellow guards.
“Did you hear me? Let me out!” Keyar shouted again, knowing it wouldn’t do any good yet not letting it sink in. He couldn’t let it sink in; he had to get out.
“Hole up in there!” one of the guards growled.
“Tahaka eat your soul!” Keyar spat. “And then throw it up for Lachista to feed to the damned!”
A guard snapped something and came over to the door, meeting Keyar’s gaze for a second before the hilt of his sword came through the bars, smashing the bridge of Keyar’s nose. Keyar swore again as he backed off from the door and slid to the stone floor, holding his bloody nose in one hand. He groaned, a lonely tear, full of every emotion that was coursing through his body, ran down his cheek and mixed with the scarlet blood that clung to his skin.
On his wrist, Keyar still had Toomay’s hair bracelet, bound to her by an ancient magic. It was supposed to warm when Toomay was near him. Or burn lightly when she was in pain. It seared against Keyar’s wrist, keeping him fully aware of the pain she was experiencing at that very moment.

~<*><*><*>~

“If you think I’m going to tell you anything,” Auggi said to Niron, “you can think again.”
Niron smirked, watching the young woman with curious silver eyes. He stood in the small clearing, his five men grouped in a semi circle behind him. A fire crackled between himself and Auggi and Lisbeth, who were crouched upon their sleeping sacks, Auggi with a dagger clutched tightly in her grasp.
Niron’s eyes flickered from the four sleeping sacks to the four horses partially hidden in the brush and trees. “Are you sure about that, lassie? You aren’t in the perfect position to bargain.”
She scowled and shifted slightly, gaining a better position to jump up and slit his throat at the opportune moment. She had once wanted to meet this thief lord. Now she wanted him dead. It’s funny how those things work out, she thought grimly.
The thief lord of the Southern Province moved his gaze from Auggi to Lisbeth. “Well, little one, would you care to tell me how you ended up with such a bitter sister?”
“She’s not my sister,” Lisbeth snapped before she could stop herself. Auggi grimaced. Keyar really needed to teach his sister how to shut up and survive.
Niron raised his eyebrows as he took a step closer, cleverly keeping himself just out of Auggi’s reach. His men watched, their trust in their leader almost unshakable. Almost.
Niron crouched down in front of Lisbeth, giving her a pleasant smile.
“Do you have a sister?” he asked.
“A brother,” Lisbeth said.
“Lisbeth,” Auggi hissed, “don’t answer him.”
“Why not?” Niron countered, keeping his eyes locked on Lisbeth’s emerald ones. “After all, I’m only a curious man who’s here to help you find your way in this formidable forest.”
“Like hell you are,” Auggi said visciously. Where were Kumar and Toomay?
Niron’s eyes never strayed from Lisbeth’s. “What’s your brother’s name?”
Lisbeth felt a shiver run up her spine at that question. There was an off note in the man’s voice, something hidden beneath his innocent question that finally told Lisbeth to shut up. She closed her mouth and shook her head, her brilliant red hair bouncing in the firelight.
The thief lord’s blood ran cold as he watched her scarlet hair fall from behind her ears to in front of her face. In that one moment, her face had strongly resembled Keyar’s. Niron frowned. It couldn’t be. Could it? He had sold him in Chicoten. How could he have made it back to the very forest where Niron had originally captured him? And if Keyar was around, where was Toomay?
“Lisbeth, is it?” Niron asked pleasantly, disguising every thought that was running through his mind.
The young girl nodded hesitantly, her green eyes flickering to Auggi and back to Niron’s rugged face.
“Well Lisbeth, I see Keyar finally rescued you,” Niron said.
Auggi blanched and Lisbeth gaped.
Niron raised his eyebrows, “So, I was right. You know, he told me about you and your sister. Once, when he used to work in Kessar. Did he tell you about Kessar?”
Lisbeth shook her head.
“Did he tell you about his wolves?”
Lisbeth shook her head again.
“Did he tell you about me?”
Lisbeth shook her head once more.
“Did you meet Toomay?”
Lisbeth nodded before she realized what she was doing. Niron grinned.
“Where is she?”
“We don’t know,” Auggi said. “They left. You should too.”
The men chuckled from behind Niron, their eyes glinting in the firelight.
“I’m afraid that isn’t going to happen just yet,” Niron said, standing up and glancing around at their campsite. “Well boys, lets pack up their gear. If Toomay and Keyar-“
He stopped short as he heard a shout in the distance. His entire body tensed as the low murmur of voices wound through the trees. He told his men to stay and watch the two girls before he ducked into the trees and slunk from forest shadow to forest shadow.
After a few moments, he had reached the edge of the road, crouching behind a few bushes and watching the scene before him.
Toomay was in the grip of a soldier, struggling weakly in his grip. Keyar lay unconscious on the road. Then, Toomay’s head lolled to one side as her body went limp, caught in a sleeping spell.
Niron listened to the soldiers talk as they waited for a horse and cart to throw the two prisoners in. Keyar and Toomay were to be taken to Eeran. The thief lord scowled as the soldiers left. What was so important about these two? Wanted by the king?
He slipped away, back through the forest to the campsite before he crouched beside Auggi, taking a dagger from his boot and tracing it lightly under her chin.
“Now, you are going to tell me why Eeran wants Toomay and Keyar.”
The glare that Auggi would have given Niron was hampered by what he had said. She ignored the blade at her throat and narrowed her eyes. “What did you see?”
“Soldiers. Took both of them,” Niron said evenly. He nodded at the blade, “Tell me.”
Auggi locked gazes with him, hers fierce and hateful, “Toomay is of Guylo bloodline. She is part of the old binding spell legend. Her brother is the true king of the North. They die and we die.”
Niron’s men sucked in their breath, a few of them forcing a laugh.
“She’s lying,” one said.
“I wouldn’t lie,” Auggi snapped at him before she returned her eyes to Niron’s, “not with a dagger pressed to my throat.”
Niron dropped the dagger and watched her carefully. He had heard the stories. Being the thief lord of the South, he had heard every story. Yet he had never expected them to hold much truth.
“Prove it!” Another man said with a snicker.
“And how would you have me do that?” Auggi snarled. “Kill them both? Where would that leave us? Dead! Besides, if Eeran is bothering with sending his soldiers after a single girl when his country is hovering on the edge of more than one war, doesn’t that prove enough? You’d have to be an idiot not to believe it!”
“Don’t call my men names,” Niron warned as his followers growled from their circle behind him. Auggi opened her mouth and closed it, for once thinking before she talked. Niron nodded, “There. See? No insults needed.” Then he took the blade away from Auggi and snatched the one she held in her hand, slipping it in the folds of his tunic before he stood up and glared at his men.
“Didn’t I say to pack up the camp already?”
They grumbled in reply and began shuffling about and rolling up the sleeping sacks and packing the horses.
“Where are you taking us?” Lisbeth asked.
“Back to Chicoten,” Niron said.

~<*><*><*>~

Toomay shivered as she left the warm water of the bath, taking the towel the maids gave her and wrapping it tightly around her. She sniffed as she stepped out onto the tiled floor, wiping the back of her hand across her face.
“Don’t cry, dear,” the short maid said, “it will be alright.”
“It won’t, Reema, don’t give her false hope,” the other maid said, her voice a mixture of harsh tones and concern.
Reema shot the other maid, Ingis, a look before she came to stand in front of Toomay, placing her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “You’ll be fine, now let’s get you into a nice dress…”
She picked up a light blue cotton dress from a chest along one wall, holding it up and cocking her head slightly to the side. Then she nodded and helped Toomay into it gently. Then she combed out Toomay’s hair while Ingis collected Toomay’s dirty clothes and left to clean them.
Toomay watched the thin woman leave, her eyes still shining. She took a shuddering breath and closed her eyes. Another tear ran down her cheek. Reema wiped it away quickly.
“Don’t let him see your tears,” she murmured as she helped Toomay up.
There was a sharp knock on the door and a guard’s voice. “Are you done in there?”
“Give the lady a minute!” Reema called. She locked gazes with Toomay, whispering, “Don’t worry.”
The door opened and the guards came back in, grumbling something as they each took a hold of Toomay’s arms.
Then Toomay was taken to King Eeran’s quarters.
The bedroom of Eeran’s quarters was huge and sprawling. Along one wall was the bed, centered between two archways that led out onto the balcony. Along the other walls were multiple dressers, maps, and artwork. The entrance to Eeran’s office was a small archway near the far end of the room, tucked into the corner. Toomay stood in the center of the chamber, her bare feet sinking into the luscious rug. She stared at herself in the huge mirror that hung on the wall across from the bed. Her reflection was not what she had looked like in Amorak.
Her blue eyes didn’t shine as bright as they once had. Her long blonde hair threw more shadows on her pale skin, hiding the bruises and scars on her neck from the slave collar that had been there a few weeks before. Toomay shuddered. She hated the reflection. She hated the mirror. She hated the room she was in.
She spun around and stormed over to a dresser, grabbing a vase and hurling it at the wall. It burst into pieces. Toomay scowled at it and whipped around and reached for a statue. She yelled as she threw it at the bed, her eyes shining as she went to the door and pounded on it with her fists. She screamed at it before she whirled around and snatched up another small statue, throwing it with all her strength at the wall. It made a dent and fell with a thud to the carpet. Then there was a click as the door behind her swung open and Eeran strode in, his chocolate eyes dark.
“Let me go!” Toomay shouted, trying to step around him and raising her fists to pound on his chest as he blocked her path. He caught her wrists and forced them down to her sides.
“Behave, princess,” he said coolly.
Toomay spat on him and struggled violently. She yelped as Eeran growled and threw her to the floor.
“Caun,” he called, “bring a basin of water.” His eyes never left Toomay. They smoldered, his mouth twisted into an ugly smirk as he hauled her back to her feet. He grabbed her wrists a second time to prevent her from hitting him. The wizard floated in, his robe billowing behind him along with two slaves that carried a basin of clean water. They placed it on a dresser and began cleaning up the scattered messes Toomay had made.
“Now, Toomay,” Eeran hissed, briefly running his eyes over her before he turned her around and forced her to look at the basin of water, “we will have no more of this behavior.”
“And what makes you think that?” Toomay spat.
Magic spilled from Caun’s hands and mutated the water in the basin, filling it with dark colours until it made a picture. Then Eeran’s voice whispered visciously in her ear, his breath sending an icy shiver down her spine.
“He makes me think that.”
A dead weight settled over Toomay, her entire body staggering under the sheer pressure of it. The water in the basin rippled as Keyar’s face flashed upon its surface. Toomay let out a silent cry as she realized Eeran was right. Completely right. She could not disobey him when everything she did or said held Keyar’s life within it. One misstep, and Eeran would kill him. She felt sick to her stomach as Eeran brushed the back of his hand torturously across her cheek.
“Thank you, Caun,” Eeran said, waving the wizard away. The servants left as well, their eyes lingering on Toomay before they hurried out of the king’s quarters.
Toomay’s lip trembled, as the door slammed shut. “You wouldn’t hurt us.”
“I would, and you know it,” he whispered, his hot breath on her neck raising goose bumps along her skin. Toomay raised her chin slightly, biting her lip and squeezing her eyes shut, trying to ignore the tears that trickled down her cheeks. She wasn’t here. She was back in Amorak with her brother and Jeera. And Keyar. She wasn’t here. This wasn’t her.

~<*><*><*>~

Keyar was slumped on the floor of the dungeon. The damp stone against his skin kept his head clear through the blinding pain of his nose. He had set it back into place with one, aching crack. Now it felt as if it were on fire. If only that were the only thing that was burning. Keyar groaned and shifted, staring at the bracelet that was burning his skin.
He couldn’t tell if it was night yet. The dungeons were built below the castle, behind the cliff face that the palace was built upon. No windows shed light upon the cold tunnels and despairing cells. They rotted in shadows here. Small, slippery shadows cast by the dull torchlight the guards had mounted on the stone opposite each cell.
Only his instincts told him night had fallen upon Tatorak. And the bracelet. He could only imagine what was causing Toomay’s extreme pain. He swore and shifted again, slamming his fist against the floor. He was stuck here. Bleeding and caged.
He couldn’t get out of this.