she walked toward the door, she passed the old armoire. Clothes spilled out onto the floor, and she caught sight of pale lace and blue embroidery. That stupid human, she thought viciously.
That stupid, blind, selfish creature.
If she’d put on a nice skirt and a shirt, if she’d worn clothes and not fur, if she’d tried half as hard as that rusalka had—
He’d never have known the difference. He’d have kissed her, just like he’d kissed that rusalka. He wouldn’t have had that fire, he wouldn’t have reached for his sword, he wouldn’t have—
Ren stopped, hand on the door.
Slowly, she turned back to the long-forgotten clothes.
“YOU WANT TO DO WHAT?”
Spit sprayed from Ry?’s lips, and on the other side of the library, cozily ensconced in armchairs, three vila began to giggle.
“Keep your voice down,” said Czarn mildly. “I don’t think the whole castle needs to hear about this.”
Ry? rounded on the wolf.
“Did you know about this?”
“Absolutely not,” said Czarn delicately.
Ry? sputtered, too overcome to even form words. Ren stood in front of him, arms still crossed. She wore a white lace blouse, decorated with flowers embroidered in pale blue and gold, along with a long navy skirt. Both items were very uncomfortable, and she’d struggled more with the buttons than she cared to admit.
“It’s insane,” added Czarn after a moment. “And brilliant. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it.”
Ry? only managed to make a hissing sound.
The three of them were standing on the topmost balcony, overlooking the rest of the library. Even in the moonlight, the library was alive. Birds hopped among the tooth-marked shelves, collecting shredded pages and gold leaf for their nests. Bats hung, snuggled together, from the chandeliers overhead.
On the opposite side of the library, on a matching balcony, the vila continued to pick at their nails and chatter in voices better left unheard.
“Czarn says he’s a Wolf-Lord, Ry?,” said Ren. “That means he’s a dragon slayer. He could do it—”
“We’re not asking a human to slay the Dragon for us,” growled Ry?. “End of story.”
“Oh my,” murmured Czarn. “I believe the bears have gotten into the Unnatural history section.”
Ren glanced to where three bear cubs were happily shredding their way through the shelves of the east corner.
“And Ren,” said Ry? in a very dangerous voice, “how did you meet this human?”
The timbre of his voice was enough to make a herd of deer glance up, several of whom delicately exited the library.
“I—” Ren unfolded her arms, then refolded them. “I helped him. The rusalki were going to get him.”
“WHAT?”
The rest of the deer bolted.
“Don’t what me,” retorted Ren. “I’m the queen!”
“No!” shouted Ry?. “You’re my little sister!”
Czarn crossed the balcony to stand next to Ren. Then he settled back with his tail wrapped neatly around his feet.
“Trust me, Ry?,” said Czarn. “The Wolf-Lords are reasonable men. They are not like other humans. And besides, this one owes a debt to Ren. She pulled him out of the water.”
Ry? puffed himself up like a sphynx and blinked.
“Reasonable?” he repeated. “Reasonable? I’m surprised, Czarn, after what they did to you.”
Ren didn’t mean to, but her eye flickered down to his paw.
“Perhaps,” said Czarn, in a low voice that warded off further questions, “my past might indicate my enthusiasm for this plan has been carefully considered.”
“You don’t sound enthusiastic,” pointed out Ry? hotly.
Czarn lowered himself onto his belly and crossed his paws before responding levelly: “This is just my voice.”
Ry? leapt off the pedestal. Two hundred pounds of fur and muscle hit hardwood. He stretched, claws cutting scars in the floor. Then he said quietly, “I worry you’re asking for trouble, Malutka.”
Ren met his eyes.
“You were happy to make me strzygi bait this morning,” she said. “Why is this any different?”
He blinked.
“You know this is different, Ren. Strzygi are one thing. Humans are another.”
“What about the Dragon?” Ren could hear the edge in her voice. “It’s the worst of them all. And this human—this Wolf-Lord—he could kill it, Ry?. He could kill the worst monster this forest has ever seen.”
At that moment, a white eagle swooped through the open window and settled on one of the chandeliers. They were solid gold, the chandeliers, and molded into circles of animals that chased each other’s tails. Its swinging shadow fell over the three of them, sent smaller shadows of animals dancing over the hardwood.
Ren loved those chandeliers. They reminded her of what her forest had once been. She held on to that dream; she knew, because she couldn’t let go of knowing,