The Living Throne (The War of Memory Cycle Book 3) Read Online Free Page A

seem...typical.”
    Cob looked to Arik, who took no notice.  “Arik?” he tried after a moment.
    The big skinchanger's ears twitched, and his gaze slid slowly to Cob.  His eyes looked washed-out, pupils wide, whole mien tight.  “I...do not think I can advise,” he said.  “They are not of my breed, and even if they were, I was not raised among wolves.  I do not...respond correctly.  You, the rest of you, they understand that you are not wolf and so are not to blame for your mistakes, but I am...aberrant in their eyes.  Unwelcome.”
    “I thought your spirit connected you.”
    “Yes, but it is like a parent.  It does not treat us all the same.”
    Cob stared.  He had been aware of Arik's edginess since their first contact with the wolves, but had shrugged it off as nerves or shyness.  With his Guardian experience, he realized he should have known better.  A shared spirit did not mean a hive-mind, and Arik had never behaved quite like a wolf.  Evidently the other wolves took that as an insult.
    “So maybe you should stay in the Grey,” he said, then sighed as the skinchanger shuddered.  “All right, never mind.  Jus'...maybe no one should say anythin' directly to the council.  Pikes, I don't even know if they'll speak Imperial, or if our plan will make them turn on us.”
    “We still intend to go to Daecia City like lunatics, right?” said Lark.  “Because if so, I need to get in contact with my people before we reach the shadowless circle.  They still have that robe I won, and our travel papers.  You lot dragged me out of Turo too fast to grab them.”
    “You haven't contacted 'em yet?”
    “I was catching up on my sleep.  This hasn't exactly been a relaxing trip.”
    “Well...  Yeah, you're right,” Cob said, squelching the urge to argue.  No matter how nervy he felt about the future, it wouldn't arrive any faster by yelling.  “If we're havin' this meeting tonight, then we'll probably move out tomorrow morning, so best to get all that done.”
    “Does anyone have any coins?  I used all mine on the last shadow-path and the eiyets won't come for anything but sugar or shinies.”
    The others shook their heads, then Dasira muttered, “I have some.  And the rest of your winnings.”  She fumbled awkwardly within her cocoon, then cursed as she dropped the sausage—and a moment later, the knife.  It stuck in the ground by her foot and she just stared at it.
    “Let me help,” said Lark solicitously, gliding over to feel under the furs.  Though Dasira radiated pent-up fury, she permitted it.  “How'd you get my stuff, though?”
    “You were blackout-drunk.  Who else was going to do it?”
    “I wasn't that bad.”
    “The only reason you didn't puke up your liver was that Vriene detoxified you.”
    “I wasn't that bad!”
    “Whatever you say.”
    Watching them bicker, Cob felt a strange ache in his chest.  There was a curve to Dasira's lips that could almost be called a smile.  He had seen it on her face only once, but remembered it well from Darilan's.
    Stop it , he told himself.  It doesn't matter.  We're not friends anymore.
    But it still hurt, and when her grey eyes slanted toward him, they were guarded.  The ghostly smile vanished, her expression once again blank.
    I can't run from this.  I have to face it.
    “I think Ilshenrir should go with you, Lark.  And Fiora too,” he said, feeling obvious.  “In case the shadows give you trouble.  Nobody should go anywhere alone.”
    Fiora gave him a brief narrow look, then said, “I was planning to, anyway.”  She tucked her arm in with Lark's and they turned toward the cave mouth, the wraith drifting after them apprehensively.
    Left behind, Arik gazed at him with sad eyes.  Even if Cob had meant to send him away, that might have broken his resolve, but he'd never intended to; instead, he made scritchy fingers at the skinchanger and grinned as joy flashed over his face, followed by fur.  In a moment Arik was a wolf