His eyebrows knitted together, a pained expression crossing his face. “I missed you, too, little fox.” His fingers skimmed the chain of my necklace. A mindless touch.
“Then why didn’t you visit?”
“I was afraid of what would happen if my suspicions were true,” he murmured, dropping his fingers to take my hand. “Now, I’m certain that they are.”
The feel of his warm, rough hand in mine made my whole body tremble. I prayed my palms weren’t too sweaty as I struggled to steady myself.
“What suspicions?”
Grae opened his mouth to speak as his three guards stumbled into the entryway, Briar two steps behind. At the sound of their drunken arrival, I dropped Grae’s hand and retreated a step on instinct. To the others, I was Briar’s guard and nothing more. There would be a lot of questions if they caught me holding hands with the princess’s betrothed. I wished the floor would swallow me whole. What in the world was I thinking?
I raised the back of my cool hand to my burning cheek, trying to snap myself out of this magical spell. I blamed the wine.
“Come on,” Maez said, sweeping her arms as if herding sheep. “To bed with you lot. We’ve got to wake up in only a few hours.”
Briar reached my side and looped her arm through mine, swaying on tipsy legs as she dragged me up the stairs. I looked back at Grae, who tracked my every step under heavy brows. Whatever he had to say would have to wait. I curled my fingers into my palm, remembering the feeling of his rough grip on my own. The sensation burned into my mind. Gods curse me. Did Grae hold hands and rumble whispered promises to all his friends? I couldn’t allow myself to answer that. Either way, it would only hurt me.
The pull of the waxing moon begged for my Wolf. The silvery light kissed my skin from where I stood between the gauzy curtains. I was so ready to shed my chemise and shift, to run through the midnight trees. That would make me feel steady again, instead of the jittery mess who couldn’t get the feeling of Grae’s hand out of my head. But my fur in the wind and my paws on the earth would have to wait one more night. We were leaving for Highwick in the morning and I couldn’t go gallivanting off into the forest.
The Moon Goddess smiled down on me from the twinkling stars as I promised her, “tomorrow.” I was so close to the end of this—a pacing wildcat ready to be unleashed. Twenty years of waiting would come to an end. I’d finally have a pack and new forests to explore.
The latch on my door clicked, and I whirled to find Briar shutting the door behind her. On bare feet, she padded toward my bed and slipped into the sheets.
She grinned at me. “The moon is too bright and I’m too excited.”
With an exaggerated sigh, I walked to the bed. “Shove over.”
“Thank you,” Briar whispered, shuffling to the side.
I turned to look into my sister’s large blue eyes. “Will you still be climbing into my bed when you’re the princess of Damrienn?”
Lifting her chin with a smug smile, she said, “Possibly.”
I huffed. A sudden painful thought swept into my mind: Would she be sharing a bed with Grae? My stomach tumbled. They’d be sharing a lot more than a bed. That’s what these marriages were for, not only alliances and land treaties, but siring future Kings. Bile burned the back of my throat. I knew this day would come, I told myself. It was the price of being part of a pack; traditions must be upheld, sacrifices made, but in exchange we’d finally have a family.
It didn’t mean I liked it, though.
“You should be sleeping,” a warm voice called from the corner.
Vellia appeared, a rocking chair with her. She glided back and forth, smiling at us. Our whole life she appeared the same: a warm lined face and silver hair, but the lines never deepened, and the strands never whitened more than their grayish hue. She seemed stuck at the age she was when she granted our mother’s dying wish. I wondered if tomorrow she’d age again.
“We can’t sleep,” Briar grumbled, just as she had when we were children. “Tell us the story.”
Vellia chuckled at us—her two grown wards. “It has been many years since you’ve asked for a bedtime story.”
“Not just any story,” Briar corrected. “The story.”
Our story.
Vellia’s eyes crinkled as she bowed her head in acquiescence. “All right,” she said in her hushed voice. “Seeing as it’s the last story I will tell you.”
Sorrow stabbed through me at that confession. I knew Vellia would leave us and we’d journey to the capital alone—it was always to be that way. Even so, a life without her felt unfathomable.