If the twins asked, Kaukab had been sent away from Uyaraut’s border the moment he arrived. After traveling for days to reach the sanctuary of the oceanside pack, the star-spangled prince was halted by his father, Kershov, at the gates; the fearsome white beast had told his son that he’d been betrothed to Siku’s girls; then, without a single moment to rest, Kab turned and slumped back into the forest, knowing that he had to find Nukilik and Kallik but not knowing where the hell they were. This was the story Kershov had gone over with him at least three times. The plot wasn’t too detailed, because extra information where none had been asked for always came across as suspicious. Kaukab must keep it simple. He must omit the truth convincingly - not lie, Ker insisted, because most of what the russet boy would tell the twins WAS true. Hardly a sinister thing, right? Except, when Kaukab had asked why he needed to twist his words and keep secrets anyway, the Ice King had cuffed him hard across the ears and growled at him not to be such an idiot. A sick feeling settled itself in the snow-dusted lad’s stomach immediately. Not just from the sudden blow to the head - which struck him into stunned silence, having never been physically punished before - but from the realization that his own father, who expected Kaukab to play the role of a spy, was also keeping his own secrets.

If Kab were to carry out some clandestine mission . . . shouldn’t he know what that mission was? And shouldn’t the male he called “father” be more honest with his son?

If the twins asked, Kaukab understood what he was supposed to say. But right now his exhausted paws plodded listlessly across the grassy plains that precluded Uyaraut’s sea-sprayed cliffs, the night sky stretched out like diamond-studded indigo velvet above him. Distantly, Kab could hear the gentle roll and plash of the salty waves . . . could smell the breeze as it lifted from the water and coasted over black rock . . . and his heart ached, knowing he had no time to enjoy, much less glimpse that beautiful beach. No, the Alpha had been quite explicit in his instructions: Kaukab was to seek out the new Adlartok of Uyaraut. Macaria. How he was meant to do that, the white-speckled boy had no clue. Kershov had mentioned ominously that the healer had no scent. Which made absolutely NO sense to the curious teen. If the Adlartok had no signature to speak of, how was Kaukab to track her? Find her den? Know who she was when he found her? Of course the frosty Czar gave his son no further information, which meant meeting Macaria would be a test of some kind. A frustrated huff left the young brute’s lips, his weariness bringing out a grouchiness few had ever witnessed.

“Train with the Adlartok, he says. She’ll be out at night, he says. What wolf doesn’t have a scent?” Kab had unfortunately not stumbled across anyone else this evening who could point him in the right direction - hence the sluggish aimless shuffling around. He sighed again, a rumble roughing the otherwise quiet sound. “Adlartok? Macaria?” Useless shouting into the darkness. “O Wondrous Stealthy Healer? Anyone?!”

Suddenly a song broke the shaded silence - frightening Kaukab so much he dropped into a crouch on the spot, mismatched eyes of onyx and sunlight darting frantically around. The singer was undoubtedly female, mature, her mysterious voice carrying an open invitation to all. This had to be Macaria. Without hesiation Kaukab used his new adrenalin-fueled energy to gallop toward the source of the howl. He knew no perfume would betray the Adlartok’s location, so he had to rely solely on his ability to triangulate noise. Oh, shoot. Should I have brought an offering with me? Will she expect something from me? I really, really wish my “father” would have been more forthcoming with stuff . . . ! Kab ran out of breath by the time he saw the first faint glow of crimson limning the waving tips of grass. Panting hard, mesmerized, the prince tip-toed cautiously forward. The bizarre red light grew stronger as he advanced, reminding him of a fire . . . only no fire could be so deeply scarlet, nor its smolder so still.

He practically bumped nose-first into the black wolfess waiting for him. So fixated upon the red light, Kaukab did not see her midnight pelt as it blended into the darkness. His heart jumped into his throat and he quickly glanced upward - right into a face whose eyes were twin pools of glimmering blood. Instinctive dread punched Kab in the guts. He had never seen a vampire, had not actually heard much about the bloodsuckers as he grew up in the safety of Wudubearo, yet he knew without asking that Macaria had dangerous fangs hidden behind her jowls. Surely Kershov was not cruel enough to toy with his pup, and then send that same pup to his death?!

Kab tried several times to speak, his maw opening and closing like that of a gasping fish. Every hair on his earthen pelt stood straight up. “I . . . er . . . um . . . you see . . .” THINK, imbecile! She’s waiting for you! “I’m . . . my name is Kaukab? I’m Kershov’s son. I, uh . . . I’m supposed to learn some healing stuff from you?” As he spoke, the lad had slowly been sinking to his belly. By the time he finished stammering words, his abdomen was pressed flat to the dirt and his head craned upward to maintain eye contact with Macaria’s startling ruby lanterns.