The throbbing in my head feels like my heart took up permanent residence there. I start to sit up but a sharp pain at my side thwarts the effort. A choked breath escapes my chapped lips and I touch my ribs, fingertips meeting soft cloth bandaging. That’s new. I stare in confusion and it’s only after several long moments that I suck in a knifing breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.

My hat is gone.

My hair is splayed over my wrapped chest for all the world to see.

“No one knows.”

Thomas’ voice says from somewhere on my right.

His forest-green eyes meet my own and silence deafens the small room. It is empty, save for us. Save for him. The door is shut. He sits on a chair beside the bed, leaning forward, elbows on his knees as he nurses folded hands. His furrowed charcoal brows fence a serious gaze.

“No one except the boy, Fin.”

It comes rushing back to me then. The blow to my head and the crack of my ribs. The world twists, and somewhere Fin shouts. Thomas stands in the background, shotgun in hand.

“What will you do?” I whisper, still seeing the frantic shuffle of feet. Still hearing the cocking of a shotgun. It slowly fades but the racing rabbit thumping in my chest doesn’t falter.

He gives me a long look and I feel the space between us stretch thin.

“I should report you. I should take you to Captain Jaxon.”

My chest tightens and my eyes flit to the door. I can make it if I’m quick. My broken ribs would make it difficult to get far before the whole city is in an uproar, but at least I can try.

“But—” Thomas’ intense gaze softens. “The way I see it, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

I blink, my mind shuddering to a stop. “What?”

“Besides, E would probably hunt me down and put an arrow in my eye if I revealed your secret. I happen to like having both my eyes.”

Thomas has that easy smile you would give a friend you’ve known since third grade. But I just sit and stare in disbelief. In distrust. Will he really keep my secret?

“Why?”

The single word slips out before I can think to stop it. Why is this man—this stranger—helping me?

He frowns, crossing his arms over a giant chest. “Why not? Whether you’re a man or woman, you’re still here looking for your brother, aren’t you? Unless that was a lie, too.”

“It wasn’t. Isn’t.” I frown and push myself into a sitting position, wincing as the effort steals my breath away. “And I didn’t lie about anything. No one asked if I’m a woman.”

He raises a dubious brow, “and if someone did?”

“A girl has to have her secrets.”

He grins and shakes his head. “Now I see why E is giving out favors.”

I feel my cheeks grow hot even as I swallow a lump of bitterness. “What would happen if I got turned in?”

Thomas’ grin fades and he combs his fingers through his beard, thinking. “Truthfully, I couldn’t tell you. I’m sure the Commander would have some questions but after that…” He shrugs. “You would be free to go. Nobody’s going to force you to stay here against your will if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Is that true? It would explain why Eli believed me safe here. Of course, I still got my ribs broken. Safe is such a relative term. It seems beasts exist everywhere.

“Is Nat really your name?”

“Nickname. I generally go by Natasha or Tasha.”

“Well, it’s nice having you, Natasha.” He winks at me.

The door bursts open and Fin comes running in, panting with his hands on his knees.

“There’s a fight” —he sucks in a labored breath and jabs a thumb behind him— “downstairs. They’re breaking—the good—booze.”

I watch the hulking man before me transform back into that grizzly from yesterday. With a grim look, he grabs the shotgun resting between the nightstand and the wall, heading for the door. He sweeps past Fin, who follows like a golden retriever puppy.

When the door clicks shut, I ease back on the pillows, letting out a pent-up breath. I stare at the empty space where Thomas was. It’s quiet. Nothing but the crackling fire in the corner breaks the silence. Thomas could be lying about keeping my secret but somehow I don’t think he is. Emotion prickles my tearducks and I bite my tongue to keep them inside. Eli has good taste in friends. Or trading partners. Or whatever the two of them are. I pull the sheets up over my head and close my eyes.

The next several days go by in a blur as I pass in and out of consciousness. Thomas comes in regularly with food, fresh water, and bandages. Everything hurts but especially breathing. Anything beyond a shallow breath is like sliding a red hot poker between my ribs. Thomas leaves me books to pass the time and I soon discover the man’s extensive collection of fiction. Quite extensive. From Hemingway to Jane Austen to C.S. Lewis, I think he likes most everything. Either that, or Eli does.

As the days pass, my ribs improve, and after a week and a half, I can get up and move again. Thomas wants me to stay in bed, but I need to do what I came here for before my time runs out. I feel antsy to get back into the city, even if the same thought brings an anxious twisting in my gut. I will certainly never go out after dark again.

The door creaks open and I roll over to see Fin walk in, his arms full of wood. I watch the boy slowly nudge the door shut before making his way to the fireplace. He crouches and neatly stacks the chopped logs one by one then stands, clapping his hands on his overalls, and turns around when our eyes meet. He freezes like a baby deer, big blue eyes glued to me.

“It’s Fin, right?” I ask, pushing myself up, looping my legs over the edge of the bed as I do.

Fin steals a nervous glance at the door.

“You made sure Thomas stopped those men who attacked me, didn’t you?”

It’s like I waved a magic wand because the scared boy before me disappears, replaced with one whose chest puffs in pride.

“I am. I told him it wasn’t your fault, too. They were the ones picking a fight.”

“I appreciate that. What you did was pretty brave.”

I hold in a laugh at how cherry-red his face turns. He examines the ground with avid fascination, hands disappearing deep into his pockets, and again I’m struck by how similar he is to Ivan.

“Do you have some time to talk?”

I pat the spot beside me on the bed and his eyes go round. He looks behind as if I might be speaking to someone else in the room before he comes to perch on the edge of the bed. His eyes dart around the floor as he chews on his lip.

I tilt my head. “You look like you have a thousand different questions in your brain fighting for the spotlight.”

He turns anxious eyes my way. “They told me all girls stay trapped in the stone. But you’re not stone, so how…”

I shrug a shoulder. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Have you seen any other girls?”

The desperate hope in his eyes feels like a dagger through my heart. This little boy undoubtedly lost his entire family the moment he woke up in this new world. How long has he been alone? What horrors has he suffered without a mother or sister to support or comfort him?

I hesitate. “I haven’t. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t others. Or that there won’t be more women who show up.”

He swallows and I see his lip tremble. His shoulders move in quick, shallow breaths and his small hands twist the material of his overalls. The poor thing is trying so hard to not cry.

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I reach over and pull him into a gentle embrace but his arms snap around me like a drowning man might snatch at a life preserver amid a storm. Choking sobs escape his small frame and he grips fistfuls of my shirt.

I rub his back and attempt to swallow a lump that suddenly appeared in the back of my throat. How different am I from this boy? We both hope for something very unlikely. Yet still, we hope. And sometimes it’s that hope that hurts more than anything else.

It makes my heart ache for Ivan and for a moment it’s as if the tears wetting my shirt belong to my little brother, not a boy I just met yesterday. It catches my breath and I give him a kiss on the top of the head. Maybe it’s because he reminds me so much of Ivan but I want to protect him, no matter the cost.

I sing—softly—so as to not raise suspicion from passersbys on the other side of the door. A sad song, but Ivan’s favorite. My voice quiets Fin’s weeping and then stills him completely. After a while, he pulls away to look up at me, wiping tear stains from his cheeks.

“My mom used to sing to me like that.”

“Mine too.” I brush aside his bangs. “You remind me of my little brother, Ivan.”

“Ivan? Like the Commander?”

I blink. What? “Your commander’s name is Ivan?”

The words come out forced. My mind begins to race and I stand without thinking. The pain in my ribs now a distant memory.

“Yeah. Ivan is our Commander. You didn’t know?”

“Where is he? I have to see him.”

Before I finish my sentence, a pair of booming trumpets fill the air. The sound resonates across the entire valley and Fin races to the window. My gaze follows his own.

“They’re back!” he exclaims, pointing at the front gate which opens to reveal a dozen men on horseback riding into the city. “The Commander is there in the front.”

I strain to see the man leading the procession. Broad shoulders covered in leather armor and a build not unlike Eli’s, only bulkier. But my heart stops when I catch a glimpse of shoulder-length, curly blond hair. Could it be?

“Ivan.”

The whisper escapes my lips as I race for my boots, not bothering with socks as I shove them over my bare feet. Tossing my coat over my shoulders, I tuck my hair away in the hood and dash from the room and down the stairs.

Thomas shouts something, but I am already out the door. The throbbing in my head and the spasms of pain at my side sucking my breath from my lungs can’t stop me. Nothing and no one can. Not when Ivan could be less than a block away.

As I approach the crowd of men, I have to shove my way through to reach the procession. When I catch sight of the back of that blond head, I shout as loud as my aching lungs will let me.

“Vanny!”

He stops. They all do. Confused faces turn to me, but there is only one face I want to see. The man at the front slowly turns his horse.

A pair of blue eyes meet my own and a chill strikes me from the roots of my hair down to the tips of my toes. I know those eyes. Everything else might be changed but those sky-blue eyes are exactly the same.

I shove my hood down and the breeze whips my hair around like some kind of living creature freed from its prison. Startled exclamations swirl with confused whispers, but the sea of men parts as I approach. My breaths grow shallow as my heart pounds in my chest. Recognition slowly settles into those blue eyes.

He drops from his horse and we stand before each other like two strangers from different worlds. Different times. A stillness comes over the men and silence steals the voice of every soul there.

I give a shaky smile. “Hey, little wolf. It’s been a while.”

I hear him gasp and his eyes go round. He reaches out to touch my cheek as though I might be a vapor in the wind or a ghost. I hold it there, pressing my face into his gloved hand.

“Natasha?”

The world blurs and I let out a hiccupy laugh. I fall into his arms and squeeze. He returns the embrace, but it doesn’t take long before the questions come.

“How is this possible? You’re awake? You’re here?”

I pull away, wiping my eyes. “It’s a long story.”

I stare at his face and laugh. Everything is so different. And yet, still the same. The boy I once knew has turned into a man with a beard. A beard. I reach out and touch the thick blond hair in disbelief.

His eyes twinkle. “Come, you must tell me everything.” He snaps his fingers and some men bring over a horse.

We ride through the city as the crowd behind us grows larger with every passing moment. I feel like some kind of circus attraction but Ivan looks ahead, unaffected by the stares. The crowd may be staring at me but I find myself staring at him.

He sits as though he was born in a saddle. As if the two were one creature. His straight back holds a new kind of confidence I’ve never seen before. Gone is the summer smile and the air of boyhood innocence I remember, replaced with an intensity and a ferocity that could make a man cower with only a look. He is no longer my little wolf; instead, I stare at a lion. A king.

We stop at what I can only describe as a castle, if not a small one. But the masonry is spectacular and truly a feat in and of itself. The enormous double doors swing wide as we approach and the inside matches the outside in splendor. Brick walls kiss high ceilings and a red carpet leads to a wide-open throne room. Natural light floods the space from numerous windows high up on either side.

Ivan removes his dust-laden leather armor, tossing it and his fur coat aside on a table where someone carries it away. Then he takes a seat on the throne with a smile, leaning forward, hands folded beneath his chin.

“What do you think?” he asks with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Of what? Of this—” I wave at the castle walls. “or this—” I gesture at all of him.

He laughs and the sound warms my heart. Despite the many years between us it feels good to know he is still my brother. Still the person who can light up a room with his smile.

“Both. But first, are you hungry? I’m starving.”

Fifteen minutes later, I find myself wide eyeing a spread I’ve not seen since before waking up from the stone. Every cut of meat you can imagine carefully prepared alongside dishes with lamb and pork slathered in all kinds of glistening sauces and cheeses. The smell sends my mouth watering.

“I can’t believe you have cheese,” I say between mouthfuls, trying to keep from groaning at the delicious creamy texture. Eli’s fresh catches every day brought variety, but it seems like nothing compares to cheese.

He chuckles. “We have the best of everything. It’s a testament to what a civilized life can provide.”

I consider his words and swallow a bite of ribeye. This is a far cry from what I had with Eli but somehow it never mattered. I would give it all up in a heartbeat if it meant Eli would sit here beside me—even the cheese.

“It must be a relief, making it here,” Ivan says, his steady eyes watching me. I realize he finished eating a while ago.

I slow my gusto, dropping a cube of the cheese. “It’s a relief seeing you again.”

He swirls the contents of his goblet before setting it down to look at me. “Not quite what you were expecting though, is it?”

“No, but not bad either.”

In truth, everything happened so fast. I can hardly register what any of this means. For Ivan. Or for me.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” I say quietly.

A softness appears in his eyes. “Of course you would say that. As if you had any say in the matter. You were stone, Tasha.”

“Still. You had to grow up in this world alone; I wanted to prevent that. That’s why I’m here.”

“To save me from this harsh world?” He smirks as he takes a sip.

The smile is contagious. “Exactly. Never expected it to fit you like a glove.”

He grins back. “If only Uncle could see us now.”

The lightness in my chest grows heavy and I wipe my fingers on my pants out of habit, despite the napkins by my plate. “Uncle woke up maybe a hundred years ago—I’m not sure when exactly—but he left me a journal. Helped save my life several times.”

Silence fills the room like cold fills a winter cave. Uncle was as much a father to me as he was to Ivan when our parents died, maybe more. His loss still leaves a hole in my heart but out of necessity, I boarded it up. Focused on survival.

“Then I have him to thank for my sister being returned to me.”

Ivan swallows and raises his goblet in a silent toast and I follow suit. Maybe I can pry some boards free. After all, I’m safe here and if anyone can appreciate the loss, Ivan can.

“It’s like he knew I might wake up.”

Ivan is silent.

“He wrote about you too. Said he was going to head East in a couple of months.” I say quietly.

“Do you know how he died?”

After my initial shock, I went back to give Uncle a proper burial. Waking up to a changed world with everything and everyone I once knew gone and then looking over to see the bare bones of Uncle, the man who raised me, was almost too much to bear. Like a living nightmare, every morning brought no relief from the darkness I felt inside. But tragedy has a way of revealing strength you never knew you had. Grief and loss: they’re scary until you face it and walk away afterward.

“It looked like a bullet to the chest.”

Rib bones shattered. I can only imagine what went down. Or who shot him. But somehow he still managed to make it back to me before he died.

Ivan’s grip on the goblet tightens. I see a storm behind those blue eyes. Perhaps he always held out hope for Uncle’s return. Hoping he might wake from the stone and walk through those city gates one day. But now that hope is shattered. He is gone forever, the person responsible—long dead. Vengeance and justice—both stolen in one breath.

I step over to Ivan and bend down, pulling him into a hug, squeezing as tight as my ribs allow. I cram my eyes shut and suddenly I’m not hugging the man who must be eight years my elder, but my little brother. He lets out an exhausted breath and we stay like that long enough for that hole in my heart to get filled in, just a little bit.

The evening passes quickly. We reminisce over Uncle and the old days before all this insanity. It feels good to share memories from that life with him but I avoid all mentions of Eli and my travel here. Something doesn’t sit right in my gut. I’m not sure what. Maybe it’s from all those times Eli hinted at his own dark past. Or maybe there’s something about Ivan that unsettles me. He’s my brother but nothing about this moment is what I expected. He’s not what I expected. Thankfully Ivan doesn’t press the issue of how I got here.

We walk down long halls side by side when he stops in the doorway of a large bedroom.

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh? Are you calling it a night already?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “I have some business to take care of.” He nods to the room. “This is for you, if you want it.”

“Trying to get rid of me so soon? It’s only half past midnight.” I tease, shaking my head as I step inside. It matches the rest of the castle with a large queen sized bed, a mahogany style desk, and a fireplace in the corner. I approach a window on the far end and stare out over a wide open field, four stories below. A blue, moonlit hue paints the green grass and fall colored trees.

When I look back, Ivan is watching me from the doorway with a tender look. “We can keep talking if you want.”

I sigh and walk over, giving him a few playful shoves out the doorway. “Go. We can talk more tomorrow. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

He turns with a grin, “I’m glad you’re here, Tasha.”

I smile back. “Me too.”