Callum takes a deep, shuddering breath. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Blake puts his hand on Ryan’s wound when Callum gets up.

Callum’s eyes narrow on him. “If you touch her—”

“Yes, yes, you’ll kill me in an undoubtedly unimaginative way. Don’t worry. I don’t harm things that are useful to me.”

Callum’s warmth floods me as he touches my shoulder and squeezes lightly.

“I’ll be fine,” I say.

He takes Becky’s arm and leads her, sobbing, away. “If you need me, I’ll hear you.”

“I know.”

They head out of the room, and he closes the door behind them.

“Others could be in danger?” Blake rolls his eyes. “You’re a manipulative little thing, aren’t you?”

I glare at Blake. I do not like being called that. I wasn’t being manipulative. I was trying to help. “I got him to leave, didn’t I?”

Blake smirks. “Get a needle and thread from my case on the workstation. And the pot of white ointment.”

I hurry over. The pot sits amid an array of glass jars, pestles, and dried herbs. I grab it, then flip open his case. There’s are cold metal scalpels in there, alongside the items he’s asking for.

When I have them, I kneel by his side.

“Put the ointment on the wound.”

“What is it?” I twist off the lid. It smells sharp, like alcohol.

When I smear it onto the gash in Ryan’s side, he shrieks. Blake grabs his shoulders and pins him down.

“It’s to kill the bacteria. Wolves heal fast, but wounds can still get infected. Now, sew it up.”

“Sew it up?”

“Yes. Imagine you’re sewing a dress.”

I look at him. Was he listening in on mine and Callum’s conversation?

He nods at the wound. “Go on.”

I grab the needle and thread. Hand shaking slightly, I hover above the wound. I am by no means queasy when it comes to blood and wounds, but this is something I haven’t done before.

Blake leans over me, and I catch the scent of dark forests as he pinches the flesh on both sides of the wound together. He takes the needle from me.

“Like this.” He punctures the skin with the needle, and Ryan shrieks again as he pulls the thread through. “Then, create a knot. Like this.”

He hands the needle back to me.

I mimic Blake’s movements as I pull the needle through his flesh.

“Wolfsbane is an intriguing poison,” says Blake. “It attacks the wolf inside us. Stops us from healing, lowers our temperature, drains our strength.”

With each pull of the needle, the wound gets smaller, and I feel more satisfied. My hand is no longer shaking by the time that I’m done.

“How does the antidote work?”

“It forces the wolf to fight back.” He points at the thread. “Now pull here, tighten it. . . There. Good. Now, cut the thread.”

He passes me some scissors, and I do so.

“How did you discover the antidote?” I ask.

He walks over to his workstation, and wipes his hand on a rag. “You don’t want to know.”

I focus on Ryan. He’s already less pale, and his breathing is steadier. “Will he be okay?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“The strength of the wolf.”

When Ryan faced Callum in the fighting ring, he was courageous. He faced his fate with strength and dignity. “He’s strong.”

“Not particularly.” Blake drops the now bloody rag, and smirks when I glare at him. “It was a weak strain of wolfsbane. He’ll recover.”

I breathe out slowly. It’s like a weight is lifted from my chest.

I don’t fight the smile that spreads across my face.

Blake looks at me curiously. Then his gaze flits lazily to the door.

“You seem to be in some pain yourself, little rabbit,” he says. “Muscular pain, from your journey here, I presume. If you come to my chambers tonight, I have just the thing to help.”

Callum strides back into the room.

“He’s in recovery,” says Blake, before Callum can speak. “You can take him to his chambers, if you—”

Blake’s gaze narrows on Ryan, and he snatches something from the boy’s pocket.

“What’s that?” Callum holds out his hand.

Blake turns over a bloody envelope. Instead of giving it to Callum, he passes it to me.

I frown.

Aurora is written in elegant calligraphy across the front.

Heart beating fast, I turn it over. The wax seal has a star in its center; the sigil of the Borderlands.

My skin turns cold as I rip it open and read.

A present for you, my love.

Think of the boy as a betrothal gift. I know you were fond of him from our time at the dog fight.

I’ll be seeing you soon.

Yours,

Sebastian

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ryan’s chambers are warm and quiet.

A fire crackles in the hearth, casting light onto Callum’s face as he sits in the wooden chair beside it. He’s changed out of his blood-soaked clothes—as have I—and he’s bathed. His hair is damp and brushed back from his face. He looks younger and more boyish when he’s clean.

Becky snoozes in a chair next to the bed, and Ryan breathes softly as he sleeps. Alongside my relief at his recovery, a swell of satisfaction blooms in my chest. He is going to be okay. And I helped.

Still, a dark shadow hangs over me.

“What are we going to do about Sebastian?” I ask.

“Don’t worry about that.”

“Not all of your people have returned. He hurt Ryan because of me. And if he has more of your men. . .”

Callum runs a hand over his mouth. “It’s not your fault. We’ll get him back for this, I promise you.”

Something twists in my gut. Now, more than ever, I do not want to go back to Sebastian. And, after spending time with Callum, my initial plan of giving my father information about the Wolf King is getting less appealing.

Yet, if I stay, people will be tortured and die because of me.

I’m not sure if I can stomach it.

“I should go back,” I say.

“No.” Callum’s eyes blaze into mine.

“You’re going to trade me for the Heart of the Moon, anyway. Why not do it now?”

“No.” This time his tone is final. “We’ll find another way.”

***

I’m not sure how much longer we sit there, but it feels late by the time that Callum walks me back to my chambers.

“Thank you for earlier,” he says. “What you did for Ryan. . . I appreciate it.”

“It was nothing,” I say, embarrassed by the emotion blazing in his eyes.

“No. It wasn’t.”

Callum follows me into my room. Someone has been here in my absence, and lit the candles on the desk and the bedside table. They emit a soft glow, and flick shadows over the books and the small bed. They do nothing to fight the cold, though. My breath plumes in front of my face.

It has been a long day, and the adrenaline that was pumping through my body earlier has desisted—leaving me with aching limbs and heavy eyelids.

“Let me help,” says Callum.

“What?”

He stands awkwardly beside the bookshelf. His height and broad shoulders seem too big for the small room. His head almost touches the ceiling.

When he drags his teeth over his bottom lip, an uncharacteristic vulnerability flashes behind his eyes.

“Blake said you were still aching. And the way you were walking up the stairs. . .”

“It’s unsettling that you know these things, you know?”

He offers me a lopsided grin. “Aye. Not much is private around here. Imagine being a young pup, up to no good, and your mother being able to hear your racing pulse as you lie to her about your whereabouts.”

“Were you often up to no good?”

“Oh, always.”

I let loose a soft laugh, and his eyes brighten.

I shift from one foot to the other, suddenly very aware that we are alone in my chambers after nightfall. I swallow.