The wolves took Margot. I want to find her, but Pere won’t try to get her back. Instead, I have to take her place.

On the flight to Nova Scotia, Amy stared at the first three sentences of the first page of Mama’s journal. She recognized the flowing script and the ornate uppercase letters, heard her mother’s voice in the words, the lightest French accent tinging each syllable. In her mind’s eye, she saw her parents happy and madly in love. I have to take her place? Those first three sentences did not sound like a woman in love.

Mama said once that she’d been promised to the Whakamanu, to Pou Ngata, the future Tane. Amy never imagined that first, someone else had been promised to Papa, and, second, that Mama hadn’t wanted to marry him.

And wolves? What the hell?

As she drove her rental into the small town of Windsor, Nova Scotia, she replayed her entire life with her parents. Every interaction, every touch, every glance. On either side of the main drag sat small shops, cafés, a couple of law offices and the like, but they faded into the background of this new mystery. “I left my family to be with your papa,” Mama had said more than once with pride. “I loved him that much.”

Why didn’t you ever tell us the truth?

Between buildings, she caught glimpses of the Avon River and imagined it full of swans for the Solstice, the one time of year swans, no matter who they believed in, reveled in their true forms under the watchful gaze of the Seven Sisters. Five more weeks … Maybe this year, the Seven Sisters would bless her with a lead about her sister, and maybe the chance to spend the Solstice among her own blood, but what if they didn’t know anything? Or didn’t care that Dia was gone?

Where would that leave Amy?

She pulled into the Sunbright Inn; the only place she’d find a room according to the gas station attendant outside town. A nineteenth-century Victorian, it was painted in a creamy yellow with dark blue trim. The window boxes were full of brightly colored flowers, and the front door was a shade of orange that reminded Amy of Ember’s eyes. Dia would have loved a place like this—the perfect blend of traditional and contemporary. The way she lived her life.

No. Lives it. I will find her.

After their conversation on the way from the Halifax airport to Windsor, she fretted more over her little sister than she ever had before. She knew Papa’s brand of education all too well—stay away from pākehā, anyone who isn’t Maori—and that would not help Ember, considering people who weren’t Maori populated all of Wyoming. And the U.S.

And Canada. Hell, his children were half-pākehā.

Hoisting her duffel onto her shoulder, she stepped onto the wrap-around porch and prepared herself. Her moko always took people by surprise. Behind her back, she’d hear things like, “But she’s such a pretty girl,” or “Why would she do that?” and bite her tongue. People’s cultural ignorance wasn’t her concern. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the Inn.

The girl at the counter, while looking pristine in her navy blue suit and blue-and-white striped shirt, put Amy at ease. Cascades of pastel rainbow hair spilled over her shoulders and disappeared underneath the counter. Mama had always spoken of kindred spirits; about damn time she found one of her own.

“Hi—oh, whoa.” The clerk’s grin split her face. “Hello, there.”

“Mornin’,” Amy replied. “Or I guess it’s afternoon now, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Amy chuckled, heartened by the look of awe on the other woman’s face. Reading her nametag, she said, “I need a place to stay for a while … Journee?”

“It was supposed to read ‘Jo.’ HR didn’t pay attention,” she grumbled, leafing through the small ledger on the front desk. The mask of professionalism slipped over her features, making her face placid. “Lucky for you, I have plenty of availability.” She glanced up. “How long are you planning to stay with us?”

“Month? Maybe more, maybe less, depending on how things go.” Amy hadn’t gotten that far in her plans, but she could always check out early if need be.

“Okay. Let’s get you registered.”

After filling out the appropriate paperwork and paying a lot less than she’d budgeted, Amy took the key from Jo.

“So, what brings you to my sleepy little town in the off-season anyway?” the clerk asked.

“Research,” Amy answered. It was the story she’d come up with on the plane, and not too far from the truth. “Looking into some mythologies and how they interconnect.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“It’s not.” Amy chuckled. “Not to many other people besides me, anyway. But it’s a passion of mine.”

“Well, I know a great place to start.” Jo scribbled on a piece of paper, then handed it to Amy. “There’s a bookstore about four blocks from here. The owner keeps a pretty eclectic collection, stuff even the library doesn’t have.”

“Wow, thanks.” Amy stuffed the paper into her jacket pocket. “Anything else I need to check out while I’m here?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Journee grinned. “I’m a font of knowledge.”

Journee hadn’t been kidding. By the time Amy reached the room, she was loaded down with information on Downtown Windsor, a slew of restaurants within walking distance, and a couple of breweries she’d check out if she weren’t on a mission. Exhausted, she collapsed onto the stately four-poster bed and stared at the ceiling. Everything hinged on finding her mother’s clan. Her heart ached for her sister, and globe-hopping hadn’t brought them any closer to a reunion.

“What have I gotten myself into?” She’d never been one to put all her eggs in the same basket, so to speak, but she just wanted so badly. The last decade with Papa and Ember had been a never-ending battle, and her little cygnet had gotten caught in the crossfire every damn time. They weren’t a family; they were three people who happened to share blood and trauma. She hated herself for abandoning her sister, but Papa made living in Casper absolutely unbearable. And considering he never spoke of Mama, well … the betrayal of Trina Ngata’s memory had been the opening shot in their conflict and Ember their only casualty. It was a wonder that l’il sis loved either of them.

If Amy found Mama’s clan, if they helped her … it might change everything. She hadn’t thought too far past her hunt for Dia, but in her fatigue, she allowed herself to daydream for a moment. Of Mama’s people welcoming her with open arms, of bringing Dia into that fold, and then maybe Ember. Would she be able to convince her little sister to abandon their father? Em’s sense of familial duty kept her bound to the old codger, but he’d forced them to live through a hell of his making. They deserved a chance at a real life. A good life. Papa wouldn’t change, wouldn’t let Ember spread her wings beyond an empty café, and that was one girl who deserved to soar.

After a hot shower, she changed into a clean pair of jeans and a tank top. It was too warm to wear sleeves under her leather jacket and too chilly for sleeves alone. She checked her reflection and snickered. As if the moko wouldn’t leave enough of a lasting impression.

She tucked her hair up under a knit hat and shrugged her jacket back on. The paper with the bookstore’s address crinkled in her pocket. She could grab coffee on the way; the coffee shop was only two blocks from the bookstore, a fact Jo was more than enthused to point out.

No point in delaying. The sooner she started, the sooner she’d have her answers.

***

“Watch her.” Maxime skulked around like the predator he was, but Marrok rolled his eyes anyway. Their cousin, Gaspard, the runt of their decimated Pack, worshiped the ground the Alpha walked on, as did most of the other cubs, and that didn’t bode well for the swan daughter on the other side of the door.

Somehow, Marrok held his tongue until he and his twin were alone. As Pack Beta, he was supposed to support the Alpha in everything, but over the last several years his twin had grown more and more unhinged. Sometimes Maxime accepted Marrok’s voice of reason. Other times … “Do you think this is a good idea?”

His brother snorted. “This is chess,” the Alpha replied. “The swans think they have us trapped, but no wolf will ever fall to them again.”

Of course. It always came back to Laurent. Their younger brother had become Maxime’s shield, his justification for every terrible plan, every hate-filled scheme since he became the latest casualty in their conflict with the Kaqtukaq swans. “I despise them as much as the next, I promise you, but—”

In a flash, the Alpha pinned him against the wall, forearm braced against his throat. Marrok’s heart sped up as his muscles seized. His vision became pinpoint-focused on the face in front of him, so much like his own and yet so unfamiliar. He’d thought he knew his twin as well as he knew himself. “I do not need you going against me, brother.” The not again wasn’t spoken but definitely implied. The Alpha moved back, and Marrok rubbed his sore neck, heart still racing like a frightened deer. “I’m searching for a way to end this.”

“By stealing a swan daughter in the middle of the night? Do you think Laurent would have wanted this?”

“Laurent is dead,” Maxime said, heartbreak tinting his voice—the first hint of emotion apart from anger he’d shown

since they buried their younger brother. “Because of them, he doesn’t make choices anymore. I will make them for the good of our people. I don’t expect you to understand, but I do expect your support.”

Stunned into silence, Marrok watched his brother slink away. A wolf’s pride never fully recovered from slights, not even Maxime’s.

On his way to the bookstore, Marrok tried to remember the last time his brother smiled or cracked a joke or, gods forbid, laughed. Since their baby brother’s death, the Alpha had become a different man altogether, one the older Pack members feared—though they’d never say it—and one the younger warriors wanted to emulate. Marrok hated what losing Laurent had done, the shadows it cast in Maxime’s eyes and the weight it pressed on his shoulders. Abducting one of the swans wouldn’t lessen either of those burdens; at this point, nothing would.

Marrok had failed in his role as Beta. Failed to contain Maxime’s revenge plots, which jeopardized their small Pack more and more all the time. Failed to work through his own grief, a wound still as fresh as the day Laurent was struck down. Before that, a part of him had hoped that the Windsor Pack and the Kaqtukaq would find a way to reconcile and push past the animosity that had plagued both their houses, but it was the wish of someone who had read too many books where everything works out in the end. As he often had to remind himself, life wasn’t a novel; it didn’t have to make sense.

For about twenty minutes, he stared at the Closed sign in its place on the door. He needed to flip it, but now that he wasn’t occupied with driving, he could only remember Maxime’s arm around his throat, and the scar on his forearm pulsed in sympathy. His chest tightened and his heart raced with the imagined danger. He’d gotten so good at keeping control during these altercations, which were happening more and more now, but the memories popped into his mind like revenants with Maxime’s snarl and his sharp teeth. Going against his brother almost killed Marrok once, so why did he try this time? Why was he so damned stupid?

It wasn’t enough that Marrok had allowed Maxime’s lapse in judgment. Or that their mother wanted him to leave his Pack—his home—because the Alpha grew more unhinged all the time. Or that their small village had gone to shit because he was too weak to stand up to the Alpha again. In all honesty, it was a miracle he escaped with only the slashed arm when it should have been so much worse. When he should have joined Laurent in the Great Pack of their ancestors.

He forced himself to breathe. To focus on the here and now. The scent of the books filling his store with their peculiar perfume, the sound the overhead cooling system made on this abnormally warm summer day. He took a mint from a drawer in the counter and focused on its crunch between his teeth and the flavor dancing on his tongue. The spearmint opened his airways and eased the tightness in his chest—an asthmatic’s trick he’d picked up that seemed to help with his attacks.

It was moments like this that reminded him why he’d been resigned to Beta. Why his brother was Alpha. Why the Pack was on this collision course with a war that threatened to destroy them.

“Not today.” Resigned, he stood and walked to the door. He stared at the Closed sign, sighed, and flipped it to Open. Then he set about to Beta business.

Once upon a time, the members of the Pack had integrated into normal society, had kept jobs and held positions in the community. When his father and mother had been the Alpha pair, they’d ensured the Pack’s survival, but his father’s death had created the chasm where Marrok now dangled precariously between safety and duty. An honor-bound wolf to his core, Marrok sided with duty, even if it threatened to send him tumbling into the abyss below. Currently, that abyss held the phone numbers of contractors he needed to contact for estimates. Their carpenter had defected to Maman’s new Pack, and the buildings weren’t going to repair themselves.

At the sound of the door opening, he glanced up, expecting one of his regulars. Maybe Fantine for the new manga he’d gotten her, or Jacques to eye the cookbook he’d wanted for ages. But, no. His jaw almost dropped at the woman who walked in, and his wolf’s hackles raised in alarm. Even covered head to toe, she was the same kind of striking he’d been taught to hate. She peeled leather gloves off her long fingers and stuffed them in the pocket of her beat-up leather jacket, which she kept on despite the moderate weather and the warmth of the store. However, the hat joined the gloves, and as her lavender hair spilled to her mid-back, he fought the urge to kick her out.

Damn it all. Another swan daughter. One who obviously had no idea she’d stepped into her enemy’s den.

“Hello there,” she said. A smile split her face and caused her violet eyes to twinkle. The heat of anger flared in Marrok’s blood, spread through his limbs. Not here. Not now. Not today. “I wondered if maybe you could help me.”

By that accent, she definitely wasn’t Nova Scotian, let alone Kaqtukaq. He forced himself calm; after all, he had a business to run. “I can try.” He hoped to sound brusque, but in his brain resounded a distinct lupine whine, MINE. That … was new.

Danger, Will Robinson, you fucking idiot.

“I’m working on a project concerning various swan myths and how they connect different cultures.” She approached with her hands behind her back, might’ve been carrying a weapon of some kind. Why else would she come in here if not to get revenge for another swan going missing? There was a disarming playfulness on her face, but something in her scent was off. Fear? But not of him. By the way she smelled, she’d been afraid for a long, long time. “Have anything that might discuss area mythos?”

“No,” he answered. Simple. Flat. Final. If his wolf had been able to bite him, it would have. MINE, it repeated in his head. MINE, MINE, MINE.

Some of the light left her eyes. “Oh, right. Thanks.” She turned to leave. Tucking her hair beneath her hat caused her shirt to ride up, revealing a swath of brown skin and the hint of another tattoo besides the one leading from her chin down beneath her shirt.

Since his brother had abducted a damned swan, Marrok felt an urge, a need, to help this one. Maybe right the balance or something, he didn’t know. When he said, “Wait,” he wanted to slap himself.

She stopped. Facing him, she continued fiddling with her hair. “What?”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

Her arms dropped to her sides. “You got your hand for that, cuz.”

His lips twitched at the sarcasm. “Had you let me continue, I would have told you I don’t have books on the subject because there’s a man in town who knows all the old stories. No doubt you’ll learn what you need from him.” He scribbled out directions and handed them to her. “Do me a favor, though. Don’t tell him I sent you.”

“What? You root his daughter or something?” At his obvious confusion, she smirked. “You know …” Then she leaned in close. “Fuck?”

Disgust jolted him, and he shook his head. “Of course not.”

Her laugh filled the store like the kind of music you hated in your youth but grew to love over time. “Thanks for the help,” she called over her shoulder.

Marrok watched her leave, and his wolf whined. “What the hell just happened?”