had sensed his sorrow, Nina had opened her eyes, the pale green of a bud about to unfurl, a color that brought him back from the ice. “What was his name?”
“Trassel.”
The corner of her lips tilted. “Troublemaker.”
“No one else wanted him.”
“Was he a runt?”
“No,” Matthias said. “The opposite.”
It had taken more than a week of hard travel to reach the Ring of Stones. Matthias hadn’t enjoyed the trip. He’d been twelve years old, new to the drüskelle , and every day he’d thought about running away. He didn’t mind the training. The hours spent running and sparring helped to keep the longing he felt for his family at bay. He wanted to be an officer. He wanted to fight Grisha. He wanted a chance to bring honor to the memory of his parents and his sister. The drüskelle had given him purpose. But the rest of it? The jokes in the mess hall? The endless boasting and mindless chatter? That he had no use for. He had a family. They were buried beneath the black earth, their souls gone to Djel. The drüskelle were merely a means to an end.
Brum had warned him that he would never become a true drüskelle if he did not learn to see the other boys as his brothers, but Matthias didn’t believe that. He was the biggest, the strongest, the fastest. He didn’t need to be popular to survive.
He’d ridden in the back of the sled for the entirety of the journey, huddled in his furs, speaking to no one, and when they’d finally arrived at the Ring of Stones, he’d hung back, unsure of himself as the other drüskelle bolted into the big barn, yelling and shoving one another, each of them diving for the pile of wriggling white wolf pups with their ice-chip eyes.
The truth was that he wanted a wolf pup desperately, but he knew there might not be enough for all of them. It was up to the breeder which boy was paired with each pup and who went home empty-handed. Many of the boys were already talking to the old woman, attempting to charm her.
“You see? This one likes me.”
“Look! Look! I got her to sit!”
Matthias knew he should try to be personable, make some kind of effort, but instead he found himself drawn to the kennels in the back of the barn. In the corner, in a wire cage, he caught a yellow flash—light reflecting off a pair of wary eyes. He drew closer and saw a wolf, a pup no longer, but not yet full grown. He growled as Matthias drew closer to the cage, hackles raised, head lowered, teeth bared. The young wolf had a long scar across his muzzle. It had cut across his right eye and changed part of the iris from blue to mottled brown.
“Don’t want no business with that one,” said the breeder.
Matthias didn’t know when she’d snuck up behind him. “Can he see?”
“He can, but he don’t like people.”
“Why not?”
“He got out when he was still a pup. Made it across two miles of ice fields. Kid found him and cut him up with a broken bottle. Won’t let no one near him since, and he’s getting too old to train. Probably have to put him down soon.”
“Let me take him.”
“He’d just as soon tear you to bits as let you feed him, boy. We’ll have a pup for you next time.”
As soon as the woman walked away, Matthias opened the cage. And just as fast, the wolf lunged forward and bit him.
Matthias wanted to scream as the wolf’s teeth sank into his forearm. He toppled to the ground, the wolf on top of him, the pain beyond anything he’d ever known. But he did not make a sound. He held the wolf’s gaze as its teeth sank more deeply into the muscle of his arm, a growl rumbling through the animal’s chest.
Matthias suspected that the wolf’s jaws were strong enough to break bone, but he did not struggle, did not cry out, did not drop his gaze. I won’t hurt you , he swore, even if you hurt me .
A long moment passed, and then another. Matthias could feel blood soaking through his sleeve. He thought he might lose consciousness.
Then, slowly, the wolf’s jaws released. The animal sat back, the white fur of his muzzle coated in Matthias’ blood, head tilted to one side. The wolf released a huff of breath.
“Nice to meet you too,” said Matthias.
He sat up cautiously,