A Forest of Wolves by Chelsea Luna Page B

into him. I wouldn’t have been surprised if flames had ignited and Kristoff burst into a fiery blaze.
    I’d never liked Kristoff. Along with Urek and Jiri, he’d kidnapped me from Prague Castle the night King Rudolf had revealed the Holy Roman Empire’s crown jewels. But I wasn’t the only one who’d disliked Kristoff from the beginning. Marc and Kristoff didn’t care for each other either; the hatred between them was undeniable and of long standing.
    After Marc and I had escaped, it had been Kristoff’s life that was bargained for when Urek ambushed us in the woods. Marc and Kristoff had fought. Marc had his sword to Kristoff’s throat, but Urek had pulled a knife on Marc’s younger brother, Jiri, at the same time.
    Urek had proposed an even trade: Kristoff’s life for Jiri’s. Marc had made the mistake of trusting him, but when Marc released Kristoff, Urek had slit Jiri’s throat. Urek and Kristoff had fled into the woods while Marc and I watched poor Jiri bleed to death.
    Marc’s jaw clenched. He’d crossed his arms across his chest—just like Henrik. His forearm muscles were taut, the veins protruding in spidery channels.
    I prayed Marc wouldn’t lose control.
    â€œWhere did you find him?” Marc asked.
    â€œIn Hebe, while we were looking for recruits,” Henrik answered. “This worthless idiot was passed out on the grass next to the tavern. I heard him snoring. He didn’t put up a fight . . . smells like piss, though.”
    Kristoff mumbled something behind his gag.
    â€œHe had these on him.” Henrik retrieved two gemstones from his pocket—a garnet and an emerald, both roughly the size of a thumb.
    The gemstones were part of the crown jewels Kristoff and Urek had stolen from King Rudolf. Where was the rest of the treasure? Where was the chest filled with gold coins and jewels? Had they hidden it somewhere? Surely they hadn’t spent all the treasure yet.
    A handful of rebels whistled at the sight of the jewels.
    Stephan inspected the emerald in Henrik’s hand. “We can buy supplies for the rest of the winter with those beauties.”
    â€œWhere are the rest of the jewels?” Marc asked. “Did you hide them? Spend them? Are they with Urek?”
    Kristoff mumbled behind his gag.
    Marc nodded.
    One of the rebels slipped the gag down to his neck.
    Kristoff panicked. “Let me go! You can’t hold me, Marc. You’re not the law or the Crown! I demand to be set free!”
    â€œPut the gag back on,” Marc said. “I don’t want to hear his voice.”
    The rebel regagged Kristoff, muffling his curses.
    â€œWhat do you want to do with him?” Stephan’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword—he still wore remnants of his Royal Army uniform: a white linen shirt with a black leather jerkin, royal blue breeches and soft black boots turned down into cuffs below the knee. “If you want my opinion, he’s not worth the food we’d spend if we kept him as our prisoner. It’d be easier to slit his throat and be done with it, especially after what he did to Jiri. That’s my vote.”
    The men rumbled their assent.
    â€œKill the Catholic!”
    â€œKill him!”
    â€œHe’s a murderer! And a thief!”
    â€œString him up!”
    Marc’s face was unreadable, a blank mask of indifference, which scared me because I knew how much Marc hated Kristoff. He wanted revenge for Jiri’s murder.
    This was his best opportunity to seek it.
    I placed my hand gently on Marc’s arm. “You can’t kill him.”
    â€œWhy not?” Igor slid out from behind two rebels.
    Great. I hadn’t noticed him in the group before now. He was the last person I wanted involved in this argument.
    The old man raised his ever-popular gnarled finger and shook it at me. Again. “Is this man one of your royal comrades? Another one of your filthy Catholic