Free Treachery by Andrea Cremer Page B

Keepers knew that. They knew seeing him would be that much worse than being a wraith’s bitch for yet another day.
    My mind was bursting with questions about what had changed. Why was I still being tortured while Ren had been made whole? But I couldn’t risk asking. Somewhere in the sliver of my mind that still functioned, I knew I didn’t want the answers.
    Keeping my eyes downcast, I croaked, “Get out.”
    My throat shrieked at the effort; it was still raw from all the screaming. Those were the first words I’d spoken in days.
    Ren didn’t give any sign he’d heard me. I glanced up and saw that he had lain down, though his head was still lifted. His gaze was fixed on me, unwavering.
    I turned my head, resting my cheek on the frigid metal wall.
    We stayed like that for so long. I didn’t look at him again. I stayed silent, curling in on myself, pretending that his presence was only making me angry. But I wasn’t angry, and after a while, tears I could no longer hold back began to drip onto my cheeks.
    I heard the click of his toenails on the steel floor. He stopped next to me and shifted into human form.
    Still crouched close, he whispered, “She did this to you.”
    An invisible hand began to crush my throat. I closed my eyes, shaking my head, afraid to do anything else.
    The stiff denim of Ren’s jeans rustled as he rose and walked away from me. “Coming out!”
    The door squealed open, then clanged shut.
    I was alone again.
     
    The other dream was worse. Worse because I always knew it was a dream but I couldn’t get out of it. I didn’t want to. Worse because it meant I cared about myself more than my sister’s betrayal, than my mother dying, than my friends’ suffering.
     
    The high forest that skirts Haldis is my favorite. I’m tearing through it at the best time of day. Just before dawn. The ground is still laced with mist that comes up to my chest. The air is alive with scents. The day stretches out before me, brimming with possibilities.
    I’m light as the wind when I run. If I could race the slightest bit faster, I’d be flying. The forest knows me. Deer flit out of my path. Rabbits dash for their warrens, not wanting to become a morning snack.
    A clear, commanding bark catches my attention. Calla stands on a ridge, a few yards ahead of me. She wags her tail, barks again, and jumps from the ledge. She lands on the forest floor, even closer now. With a yip, she wheels and takes off.
    I know this game. We’ve played it since we were pups.
    She wants me to catch her, but she’s always been able to outrun me. But I’m older now. Taller. Stronger. This time I will catch her. This time she’ll be proud that her little brother isn’t so little anymore.
    I keep pace with her, though she twists and turns, making a maze of the tall pines. We reach an open meadow as the sunrise hits it. Tall grasses wink with dew. Wildflowers turn their faces to the light.
    With a bark to let her know that I’m about to overtake her, I lunge forward. The ground churns beneath my paws. My toenails dig into the dirt, propelling me ever faster.
    But something isn’t right. My body feels heavy. I should be running faster, but I’m slowing down. My bones ache. My muscles shriek as I feel them stretching too far, and then tearing.
    I can’t feel the wolf, only my human form, which is a painful hulk of flesh and blood. I drop to my knees when I see it. The wolf that was me is still running. Each stride brings it closer to Calla. My wolf runs with his alpha, free and full of joy.
    I’m kneeling in the dirt and I begin to scream, “Calla! Calla!”
    But she doesn’t come back.
     
    My mouth was open, my throat on fire. I knew it was the screaming that woke me. I’d been calling out my sister’s name in my sleep. That had happened too many times. It seemed to be the only thing that could pull me from that particular nightmare. And this time the dream had held me captive, even through the door opening and closing. Even