these Mountains, they warn their children not to call wolves from the forest.
But this is not a forest, my son.
And we are the wolves.
Anzelm did not say this part out loud. But Lukasz, counting stitches, said it to himself.
Then his older brother settled against the windowsill, cradling an imaginary baby in his arms, and Lukasz tried not to laugh. But Anzelm had very few faults. Lukasz could forgive his melodrama.
“Listen close, my Lukasz,” said Anzelm. “That’s what our father said. If ever you are lost, or alone, or frightened, remember that this is your home. These Mountains will always call you back.”
He pushed himself off the window and inspected Lukasz’s handiwork.
“Excellent. Perfect skin alignment. Well done.”
Then Anzelm returned to lean heroically on the windowsill, one hand on his hip and the other on the frame, and it was as if he were looking at the hills themselves, not the dirty streets below.
“Shrouded in blackness and keeping away from the light,” he whispered, “the wolves howled their congratulations to the Lord of the Moving Mountains.”
Then Anzelm gathered up the tray to take it back to the supply area. He left Lukasz alone, sitting with Jarek on the wrought-iron bed, sunlight streaming through the high window.
And then Lukasz heard them.
“One of the men from the Mountains.”
It was a girl, a few years older than him, who spoke.
Lukasz stood up and listened at the door. He couldn’t quite see into the hallway.
“Yes, well,” answered another person’s voice. “Don’t get too attached.”
“But Ola—”
“Agatka, what did I tell you?” whispered the other voice. “Our father will never allow it. Flirt with him all you like, but it will never happen.”
“Ola!”
“They’re savages,” snapped the first voice.
Lukasz went very still. Surely they weren’t . . . ?
But the etiquette book on his brother’s nightstand . . . ? And the guest lectures? The polonaises? They couldn’t . . . they couldn’t really think—Lukasz’s mind turned cartwheels, and in a kind of delirium of shock, it silently screamed:
The dinner forks, for God’s sake!
“Savages, do you understand me?” repeated the voice. “They drink human blood in those Mountains. They made deals with demons to keep their hold on them. Agatka, we won’t have you mixed up in it.”
They moved away. It was the first time that Lukasz realized, no matter what praise they received, that he and his brothers stood apart. They would never truly belong—never be accepted—among this world of paved roads and elegant parties. Not even Anzelm. Outside, the carriages rolled on in the street, clattering below and breaking over Lukasz’s ears like a thunderstorm.
It was a long time before Lukasz realized that he didn’t want to belong.
He never found out what happened, exactly. But Agatka must have told Anzelm what her sister had said. Or maybe what she really thought of him herself. Lukasz wasn’t sure. But a few days later, he saw Anzelm chatting with Agatka outside the hospital. While Lukasz watched from across the square, he tucked her arm in his, and together they ducked into an ice-cream parlor. Fifteen minutes later, Agatka came back.
Anzelm did not.
31
REN AND LUKASZ REACHED THE Mountains by the evening of the next day.
The trees thinned around them, then disappeared. Ren had never seen a world without trees. Never seen a sky so big. Unfiltered by the forest and reflected off the glittering peaks, the sun almost blinded her. Everything was barer, sharper, somehow harsher. The air was ice-cold and clear, filled with the rush of wind and the scent of snow.
Ahead, they faced a gorge a mile wide, extending parallel with the forest in both directions. Beyond its vastness, the Mountains rose from a mist of snow and fog. Purple and blue and gray, they formed an unending vertical wall. Ren had never felt smaller.
She spared one last glance behind, absurdly sad to be leaving the dark. The forest—her forest—stretched behind them, smooth tree trunks fading to brown murk. She knew she was lying to herself, but from out here, it looked safer in there. In there, the world knew her name.
Out here, she was just another heartbeat in the silence.
These Mountains didn’t care if she was the queen. Didn’t care if she’d lost her brother. Didn’t care if the world was under attack. These Mountains had been here for thousands of years, and neither queen nor monsters had ever stopped their tides.
When she looked back, she caught Lukasz’s eye. He must have been feeling worse, because he’d asked her to take Król’s reins. There were dark circles