A River of Golden Bones, page 1
Dedication
To those trying to discover themselves in a world that can be unyielding and unforgiving, this book is for you. May this story remind you that the answers you seek are not beyond you but buried within. Keep unearthing the brilliance and beauty that is you.
Content Warnings
Death, loss, blood, violence, fire, transphobia, misgendering, as well as sexually explicit scenes
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Map
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Dramatis Personae
Acknowledgments
Announcement The Amethyst Kingdom
About the Author
Also by A.K. Mulford
Copyright
About the Publisher
Map
One
The golden carriages kicked up dust as townsfolk rushed to the streets, packing every window and stoop. They waved their handkerchiefs at the two coaches, craning their necks, trying to get a peek at the crown prince. The villagers didn’t know why he was there, but I did, and it made my heart leap into my throat with excitement. I knew tomorrow I’d be leaving town in one of those gilded carriages back to his castle.
A rook cawed above me, iridescent wings shimmering as it landed on a maple branch. I scowled at the midnight bird—a bad omen. Sawyn’s army of cloaked guards brandished the same moniker. And now, whenever I saw them, my stomach turned sour, sobering me from the thrill of the encroaching carriages.
With a frown toward the rook, I leapt from my trusty perch. I didn’t need any bad omens today of all days. My gut lurched as the wind rushed around me and I landed in a crouch. I did a quick scan of the clearing, though I knew no humans were nearby. Their scent would’ve carried easily through the dry summer forest.
I peered back at the maple tree, but the rook had disappeared into the dense foliage. I tucked my amber necklace back under my neckline and dusted the leaves off my threadbare dress. Sticks snapped under my bare feet as I darted downhill. My dress snagged on a thicket of thorns and I pulled it free, grimacing at the sound of fabric tearing. Vellia would have to mend it again. I hated dresses, but Vellia insisted I wear them when I ventured from the cabin, as wearing tunics and breeches would only draw more attention.
As if I wasn’t stared at anyway, being one of the two strange girls who lived in the wood.
I shielded my eyes from the glinting sun as I ran—not from the rook, though it still had me a bit spooked, especially with who was coming, but toward the road. My bare toes clung to the rough bark of a fallen tree as I crossed the narrow creek, rushing toward the royal procession. In one of those carriages was Graemon Claudius, the crown prince to the Silver Wolf kingdom of Damrienn. My friend had returned at last.
My heart drummed in my ears. I wondered if he looked the same. We’d still been pups the last time I saw him, only thirteen years old. Full moons were the only time his father, King Nero, permitted him to visit us here, and only ever as a Wolf—it was too risky any other way. For if anyone discovered a Gold Wolf in this village, the news would surely spread to Sawyn . . .
I glanced up again, to see if I could spy a rook spying back on me.
When no birds caught my eye, I cleared the forest with a swift leap. My bare feet slapped against the dusty cobbles as I raced toward the throng of well-wishers. It was with a sense of mischievous contentment that I knew I would be watching the world through their human eyes one last time, pretending to be just another among them. My lungs panted sweet air as I pushed my legs faster. I rushed past broken carts and bags of spoiled grain, my hair whipping behind me as I steered toward the main road.
I skirted down a shortcut and heard the crowd roar. I turned my head toward the sound, not watching up ahead, and slammed into an unyielding object. My feet slid out from under me as I bounced off what I realized was a cloaked figure. Arms wheeling, I braced myself for the hard thump onto the stone when two powerful hands grabbed me midair and hoisted me back to my feet.
“Apologies,” I blurted out, even as I scrambled for the paring knife in my dress pocket. Vellia wouldn’t let me bring my dagger, but I could justify a paring knife for foraging.
The figure chuckled—a deep, throaty laugh that made me still my hand.
“Hello, little fox.”
The familiar rasp of his low voice made my eyes go wide. My stomach somersaulted at the sound of my nickname. Brushing the curls off my face, I narrowed my eyes, peering into the darkness of his hood. Only one person ever called me that name—and that person I hadn’t seen in seven years.
Someone who should be in one of those carriages instead of standing before me.
“Grae?” I dropped my hand from my knife’s handle.
He pulled back his hood, and the sight of him rattled me more than colliding headlong into him had. This was not the boy I had known. No, this was not a boy at all. I’d never seen a more stunning man. He had classic Damrienn features—obsidian hair pulled to a small knot at the crown of his head, golden brown skin, and hooded umber eyes. But he was also twice my size, towering over me, the peak of shoulder muscles from his neckline denoting a warrior’s physique. He was gorgeous, and yet still wolflike even in his human form, with glinting canines and a hardened jaw. His angular cheeks dimpled as he smirked down at me.
“Wh-what are you doing out here?” I asked, scanning the vacant backstreets.
“We’re visiting, of course.”
“I mean what are you doing here, in this alley?” I said.
His grin widened. “I wanted to see the village where you grew up without being noticed.” His voice was an octave lower than since last I’d heard it. “Maybe a bit too unnoticeable, seeing as you ran straight into me.”
That voice. Gods, help me. His Wolf voice had spoken into my mind during his visits, but we had been thirteen then. Hearing it now was . . . distracting.
“Briar and Vellia are waiting at the cabin for you,” I whispered. It was all I could think to say as my gaze hooked on his face, dumbstruck.
How was it possible this is what Grae looked like?
His dark eyes twinkled, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. “Walk with me?”
My lips parted, and I followed him down the alley and onto the wider back road. Cheers and whistles bounced off the stone as we walked across the worn cobbles. My heartbeat thrummed in my ears. He was really here.
I cleared my throat. “How did you know it was me?”
Grae’s cloak flapped behind him as he peeked at me. Every time those red-brown eyes landed on me, it felt like the ground gave way.
“Your hair.”
“My hair?” I snorted, grabbing a brown ringlet and pulling it straight. “I don’t have curly hair in my other form.”
Immediately my eyes darted to the curtained windows and closed doors. No one was around to hear me, but I still said other instead of Wolf. Sawyn would pay handsomely for the last Gold Wolves’ location, and no matter how pretty the man next to me was, I was always on guard. We had kept our secret these many years through dogged vigilance, not even whispering the word “Wolf,” and that wasn’t about to change.
“Not the texture of your hair.” Grae chuckled, the sound making my toes curl against the rough stones. “The scent of your hair.”
“My scent?” Most humans smelled the same to me, like rising bread and tilled earth, but each Wolf had their own scent, like a fingerprint special only to them.
And he remembered mine.
Grae took a deep, slow breath, making me blush. His nostrils flared as he seemingly tasted the air and let it out again. “Like lilies in summer sunshine and a hint of spice . . . cinnamon perhaps?” He murmured each word as if savoring it.
Pinpricks covered my lips up to my ears, and I knew the creeping blush had probably turned my cheeks bright red.
Yes, he knew me—and I knew Grae’s scent, too. He’d always smelled like . . . damp earth and woodsmoke—a bonfire after a rainstorm. Powerful and elemental, disparate yet whole. The echoes of his essence flooded back to me, along with all those childhood memories. I still heard our laughter, that giddy glee of chasing each other through the nighttime forest. And when we were tired from our runs, we’d sit by the river and he’d tell me stories from every corner of the realm.
Closing my eyes, I breathed deep through my nose. As a Wolf, I could smell the pies cooling in open windows, the fresh hay being carted off to the town stables, and the wildflowers in the meadow beyond. I imagined the wind in my hair was blowing through my golden red fur instead as I realized that with Grae here, it possibly meant the end to our hiding, and my Wolf could finally be free. That thought made me giddy, and I hoped the forests in the capital would be larger. In Allesdale, I had to run in circles to run at all. The eastern wood surrounding our little cottage took only ten minutes to cross on all four paws. I’d learned every fallen log and muddy creek by heart and was beginning to feel like the dogs kept tied up outside the butchers.
After today, though, I’d no longer feel trapped.
Grae tipped his chin toward my bare feet, and his cheeks dimpled. “Your feet must be as tough as your paws.” His laugh had changed since we were young. Now it was a rolling thunder that emerged from his chest only to be felt deep in my own.
I checked over my shoulder again to see if anyone had heard him, but the streets were empty. Soon the carriages would roll out the other end of town, and people would return to work, but for now they were entranced by the spectacle.
“You should be more careful,” I muttered, instantly regretting that I had just rebuked the crown prince. I mean, I was royalty, too . . . but if Briar were here, she’d scold me for my lack of decorum. Grae was not the playful pup chasing bunnies in the eastern wood anymore.
“When we get to Highwick, you’ll never again have to whisper about what you are,” he promised. The sincerity in his voice made me press my lips together. “You can be proud to be a Wolf.” He lifted his chin up to the Moon Goddess. “You can be exactly as you are, little fox.”
I huffed. Exactly as I am? That wasn’t saying much. Briar was “the Crimson Princess,” with her ruby red hair and long, lithe frame. The Moon Goddess designed her perfectly for royal life. Me . . . I was Briar’s opposite in every way, the other side of the same coin. No one would ever guess that we were twins. Only a handful of people even knew who I was—Grae and his father being two of them. I was a whole head shorter than Briar and twice her size, with rounded curves that belied the muscles I’d spent years of combat training honing. Even in my Gold Wolf form, I was lacking compared to my twin—small and scruffy next to her, with a hue of rust to my golden fur. It was why Grae called me little fox . . . and it was also why his promises that I could be myself felt nothing but deflating.
The words spilled from my mouth before I could stop them. “Who I am is no one.”
Grae’s footsteps faltered at my muttered confession. He sidestepped me so quickly I almost walked straight into him . . . again. Blocking my path, he spun to face me. His stare felt like a weight pressing down on me. His calloused pointer finger touched the tip of my chin, lifting until my eyes met his dark ones. Holding his gaze felt thrilling and familiar all at once.
“You will have a home in Highwick, too, little fox.” His breath brushed my cheek. “You will stand on the dais as the royalty you are once your sister and I are married. There will never be any mistaking that you are truly someone.”
My racing heart plummeted into my gut. Not at the promise, but at the reason why he could make such a promise:
Once your sister and I are married.
That was why he was here. On the full moon, it would be our twentieth birthday, and they would finally fulfill the marriage that had been arranged since before our births. The Crimson Princess would marry the Silver Wolf of Damrienn for the good of the pack.
Shame burned inside of me at my bitterness. Neither of us were children anymore, though I still preferred climbing trees to rouging my cheeks. I knew we all had a role to play. I reminded myself of Vellia’s words, the ones she told me and my sister over and over again. That the fate of our kingdom depended on this marriage and the money and soldiers that came with it. With the might of the Damrienn army, we could reclaim the fallen Gold Wolf kingdom. This was how daughters of kings gained power—through marriages and alliances. Briar would rally support through tea parties and balls, and, as her guard, I’d muster it with my sword. I was definitely getting the better end of the deal, training in secret to be a killer instead of a dainty, poised princess.
It was the whole reason we had hidden ourselves in this quiet village.
The realization still hit me like a blow, however.
As if on cue, a rook cawed overhead, taunting me, and I pressed on. Grae fell into stride beside me.
“I’d still prefer we don’t discuss these things until we are in Highwick,” I muttered.
Grae chuckled. “As you wish, little fox.”
Little fox. He kept saying it, and it kept sounding different now, even though it was the only nickname I’d ever had. Briar wouldn’t even appreciate how good it felt to be noticed by someone like Grae. I clenched my fists as we walked, knowing I should focus more on the coming battles than on the handsome prince beside me. The pack was more important than my desires.
I looked around to distract myself. The streets began filling with people as the royal carriages wheeled out of Allesdale. Only Grae and I knew they wouldn’t be rolling into the next town, but veering off toward Vellia’s cabin in the woods. Grae and his guards would stay the night, and we’d leave at first light for our long journey back to the capital.
Grae pulled his hood up again, hiding his visage in shadow as I scanned the dreary stone buildings. I wouldn’t miss this drab little town. The haggard faces of villagers watched us as we climbed the hill. The townsfolk had always been wary of Vellia, and Briar and I by association. An old lady living alone in the woods garnered rumors she was a sorceress. Little did they know, Vellia was indeed magical, but she was no witch.
The road inclined, steeper with each step. I welcomed the pleasant burn of my muscles as I hastened to keep up with Grae’s long legs. I savored this last moment together, just the two of us. I peeked at him, unable to see his eyes from the shadows of his hood, but somehow knowing he looked back at me. Despite all my eagerness to leave, I would miss this—two friends without titles or grand destinies. That daydream would end as soon as we reached the hidden cabin in the woods where his betrothed waited.
We hurried along, yet all I wanted to do was linger. I couldn’t do that, though. Not to Grae. Not to Briar.
All things must come to an end—even if it’s just a walk through the woods.
Two
The dense canopy high above us cast cool shadows down the forest trail. My fingers brushed over the moss dripping from the trees as we fell into easy conversation. We crunched through the leaves, following the thin rivulets the carriage wheels carved down the path. Grae told me the latest news from Damrienn. Drought had hit the farms over the summer and his father was even more surly than usual, but the city had the upcoming wedding to buoy their spirits. News had apparently spread like wildfire that the Crimson Princess was not only alive but also about to marry their crown prince.
Rumors had swirled for years that the last of the Gold Wolf line yet lived, that the Marriel princess named Briar had survived the fateful night of her birth . . . but no one whispered about another named Calla. The world had searched for my twin sister these twenty long years, but I remained a shadow behind the dream of the Crimson Princess. After two decades, we would finally be able to reveal our secret: not one Marriel survived that night, but two.
Not that I thought the world would care all that much—they’d still focus everything on Briar, as they should. I was very content to let her bear all the scrutiny of court life while I watched—and plotted—from the shadows.
Grae reached out and hooked his finger along the chain of my necklace. He pulled until the amber stone lifted above my neckline and smiled. “You still wear it.”
“Of course I do,” I said, my skin tingling where his knuckle grazed my collarbone. “When a prince gives you a protection stone, you wear it.”
His cheeks dimpled. “Does Briar still wear hers?”
“Yes.”
“Liar.” He chuckled, snapping a budding white flower off a low branch and passing it to me. “I can smell the lie on you as easily as I smell the perfume in the trees.”
I scanned through the summer forest, resplendent with flowers. The woods surrounding our cabin were filled with as many memories as the cabin itself. Every full moon of our youth, Briar and I would prowl into the dark forest, hoping Grae would appear. That was seven years ago . . . I still had his last correspondence in my dresser drawer. Along with his letters came two necklaces—a ruby for Briar and an amber for me. I had wondered if Grae had selected the stones for the shades of our hair every time I had read my now-crinkled letter. Briar’s letter was two pages long, but mine was only a brief paragraph:
